Andrew chuckles at my comparison, dimples carving into his cheeks as he does. “That’s an interesting way to put it.”
“Well, I am a journalist. I have to write creatively,” I counter playfully, earning another chuckle from him. “Nonna actually helped me realize it.”
“She speaks her mind.”
I nod. “We were on one of our phone calls where we catch each other up on everything that happened that week. She asked me about Daniel, like she always does, and I guess she didn’t like the response. Then she told me a story about her and Nonno.” I pause, thinking about what she said.
Andrew’s voice softens. “What was the story?”
I pause, kneading the dough rhythmically. “She talked about how she and Nonno were strolling along the banks of their hometown river when they were teenagers. How he told her he loved her for the first time. The way she described it…the passion in his expression, the conviction in his words. I realized that I was settling for a ‘pretty’ relationship.”
Andrew is silent as he watches me. The intensity of his gaze makes my cheeks heat up.
“And so you ended it with him?” he, finally, asks.
I nod in affirmation. “Yep, and then took this reservation that was supposed to be our honeymoon. Figured I could use a solitary vacation.”
“Sounds like an act of courage to me.” His comment surprises me. My eyes meet his bright and encouraging gaze.
I shrug modestly, feeling shy suddenly. “Maybe. But it’s also slightly terrifying.”
“Being brave doesn’t mean you’re not scared. It means you do it anyway.” A knowing glint in his eyes makes me wonder about the trials he’s faced in his life. They say being a detective carries its own set of burdens.
“And what about you? Why Silver Valley?” I sigh, feeling lighter than I have in a while.
“Me?” Andrew seems taken aback by my question, rubbing his neck, leaving a trail of flour. “Well, I guess my reasons are a little less daring than yours.” His voice is cloaked with an easy humor, but there’s a flicker of something deeper. “I had a tough case a few years back, and the anniversary of it was last week. We solved the case, but that family is forever changed. It was a tough one. So every year, I take some time off, try to relax, and find somesolitude. For all the good we do, sometimes the darkness sticks with you.”
I lay my floured hand on his arm. “That’s not an easy job to do, Andrew. But it’s important work,” I say softly. His gaze snaps to me, and he smiles, a little wistfully.
“It is,” he agrees. “But so is what you do. You tell people’s stories, and that matters just as much.”
My heart beats a little faster, and I feel an unexpected warmth spreading through me. Andrew’s hand covers mine on his arm, and the touch is both comforting and electrifying. His eyes warm as he looks at me, a clear appreciation in them. For the first time, I feel seen in ways that are entirely new and completely terrifying.
By the time we are done with cooking and cleaning, it’s pretty late. We sit by the fire with mugs of hot cocoa laced with marshmallows. We’re both reading a book on opposite sides of the couch, and Angus snuggles next to Andrew. The flames flicker, casting dancing shadows around the room while outside, the snow falls gently against the window panes.
I wake to Angus licking my face. “Ew, Angus. Quit it!” I sit up, wiping my face with the sleeve of my sweatshirt.
“Angus, be nice.” Andrew’s voice comes from the kitchen. “Sorry, I just brought him in from outside, and he rushed over to you.”
I chuckle, rubbing my eyes. “That’s okay…I guess I fell asleep reading?” I question, absolutely embarrassed for doing so.
“I did too. Angus woke me up the same way to let me know he needed to go outside.”
“I was right. He is a menace.” We both chuckle.
“I’m going to start on breakfast. Any special request?”
“I’ll take an omelet special and pancakes with fruit and homemade whipped cream. Oh! And I’d like a caramel macchiato.” I get up from the couch to see Andrew standing there with an amused grin.
“Someone is a little demanding this morning, aren’t they?” Andrew chuckles and shakes his head.
“Hey, you asked!” I lift my hands in the air, walking towards the kitchen. “And besides, if you’re asking me to put my trust in your cooking skills, then I have the right to be demanding.”
“I haven’t heard any complaints about my cooking since you’ve been here. Your logic is flawed,” Andrew says with an exaggerated sigh. “But let’s get one thing straight: I am not your personal chef.”
His phone dings, and he grabs it from his pocket.
“We have cell service?” I ask.
