"Do you ever wonder what would have happened if I hadn't gotten lost that day?" she asks, settling against my side.
I consider this, stroking her hair. "You wouldn't have gotten lost. The mountain wanted you here."
She tilts her head to look at me, eyes bright in the fading light. "You really believe that?"
"I believe in us," I say. "However it happened."
She smiles, that soft, content expression she gets when she's perfectly happy.
We sit in comfortable silence, watching the first stars appear over the ridge. Down in the valley, lights twinkle from the few scattered houses—families settling in for the night, same as us.
"Colt stopped by while you were in town," I mention.
"Oh? How's he doing?"
I shrug. "Same as always. Quiet. Keeps to himself up at the lookout."
"Maybe the mountain will send someone for him too," she says with a mischievous glint in her eye.
"Maybe. He'd probably run screaming if it did."
She laughs, the sound carrying across the still air. "That's what you did. Metaphorically speaking."
"I did not run screaming."
"You scowled a lot. Same thing."
I grunt, which makes her laugh harder. Some things never change.
"I love you," she says suddenly, seriously. "I love this life we've built. I love that our daughter is going to grow up here, with all this space and beauty and quiet."
"Not so quiet anymore," I point out. "You talk enough for three people."
"Someone has to balance out all your grunting and brooding."
I press a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her shampoo and skin.
"I love you too, Scarlett," I say against her hair.
Her hand finds mine again, fingers intertwining like they always do. Like they always will.
The mountain rises around us, dark and protective, holding us in its embrace. And I send up another silent thank you to whatever force brought her to my door that stormy night.
Because I was supposed to stay alone.
Until the mountain sent me her.
And now I can't imagine it any other way.
