Snowed Under (Aspen Peaks #2)

11. Madeline

I severely overestimated my closet when I signed up for this outing.

I also overestimated my parents’ ability to mind their own business. They weren’t even here yet, and I was already working on the list of questions they’d have. When I asked my dad if they could watch the kids for the night, instead of answering me, he went straight to my mom, who, from the sound of it, dove across the floor for the phone and shouted, “Where are you going tonight?”

I left out the whole date aspect of it, considering I wasn’t even certain I would call it that myself, and said it was like a friends’ babymoon with Olive and Finn. She sighed and responded with “So, no prospects, then?” As if this was the 1800s, and I was to be auctioned off at my debut.

All of this led me to standing in front of my closet, staring deadpan at the same clothes that had been in there for the last few years. If this was a date, and it absolutely wasn’t, then I’d probably go on the sexier side. But given this was more of a night out with my very pregnant best friend, and considering I really wasn’t in the mood to be hit on the entire night, I just kept staring.

Olive was no help either, since I texted her What are you wearing tonight? and she responded with Something that holds my giant boobs and allows for baby movement.

I sighed at that and settled on some very tight jeans and a lavender sweater. They would have to do. And it had absolutely nothing to do with Cooper saying he liked this sweater last week.

Just as I was done getting ready, Charlie came running into my bathroom with a Lego box in his hand. “Can we open it up now, May?”

“Tanwiupupowmay?” Piper came running in after him, attempting to repeat his sentence.

All things considered after my breakdown earlier this week, Piper’s speech had improved almost overnight. She wasn’t exactly speaking clearly, and technically, she wasn’t adding new words to her vocabulary. But she was repeating what Charlie and I said and picking up on new syllables. Plus she was no longer shrieking when we couldn’t understand her. That felt like progress enough on my end. Or, technically, on Dr. Lora’s end. I needed to remember to text her a quick thank-you and a sorry for leaving your office all snotty-nosed and ugly crying. You were right.

I eyed the Lego box with a mini Imperial Star Destroyer and a tiny Darth Vader to the side. I’d bought it for them months ago, during a labor day weekend sale, and I thought to myself there is going to be a rainy day where I really need this. It had been sitting in my closet ever since, and tonight felt like a good enough reason to whip it out.

“I guess so. Gram is about to be here, anyway.”

I opened the Lego box and dumped the little baggies with instructions out onto the coffee table, then watched as the two of them got to work—Charlie organizing the bags in chronological order and Piper picking them up and moving them instantly. The back doorbell rang just as I was about to go put in my earrings.

“Gam?” Piper shot up, looking at the back entrance, and Charlie smiled at her. He’d noticed a big change in her this week too. He looked over at me, and I winked at him before heading to the door.

Standing on the other side of the door were my mom and dad, holding those reusable grocery bags filled with toys that neither of the kids needed but were going to be spoiled with anyway.

Dad stepped in first, opening his arms and hitting the floral plastic bags on the doorframe. “Look at you. Not a day over twenty. You’ve still got that little baby face.” He used one bag-laden hand to squish my cheeks.

Mom appeared directly behind him, looking at me with this gaze that felt reminiscent of her seeing me in my prom dress for the first time. I held my breath, and possibly sucked in my gut a little, waiting for her approval. She opened her mouth, and for the first time in what felt like a decade, I honestly thought she was going to compliment me. Her eyes filled with this mix of wonder and almost a touch of sadness. The thought vanished, and as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. She moved her eyes from me to the kitchen behind me and said, “A bit more lipstick, love. That foundation makes them disappear.”

They both walked behind me, over to the kids at the table, crouching down to see the Lego set with them. This was my key issue, right here. Not that my mom hated me or that I hated her. It was that neither of us understood the other. Not since Will had died. And when we tried, it all just crumbled. Could you still love someone without liking them as a person?

My eyes rolled, and I looked at myself in the small mirror with hooks where my keys hung. I could use some more lipstick, actually. So I scurried back to my bathroom, applied a thin layer, and tucked the tube into my palm for future applications.

I grabbed my shoes sitting by the door, a pair of thick wedges that I was praying muscle memory would help me walk in, and headed over to the table. Charlie was showing my dad the instructions, both of them eyeing it before I heard my dad mumble something like bunch of gibberish and who needs that? My mom sat with Piper as she waved her hands and made random noises similar to baby Tarzan. Mom just nodded and smiled at her.

Behind us, my phone buzzed twice on the counter, and I knew by the crunching of tires in my driveway that it was Olive telling me she was here. I spoke while bending down to tighten the straps on my shoes.

“There’s a lasagna, salad, and brownies in the kitchen. Piper needs everything cut into small pieces. And if Charlie asks for grapes, cut them in fours. I don’t care if he’s nine. He can still choke. Also, bedtime can be pushed back to nine if they want to, but they usually like to be in bed by eight thirty anyway. Oh and—”

My dad held up a hand. “We’ve done this before, dear. Now go.”

Mom nodded. “I spent two and a half years trying to set you up, and one text from your little Olive friend, and you go curling your hair.”

I looked down to Charlie. His eyes were glued to the Legos in front of him, but his movements slowed, as if he was trying not to make any unnecessary noise. “I’m just hanging out with friends, and I wanted to get out of the house for a bit,” I clarified, more for his sake than hers. I wasn’t sure whether Charlie would care if I had a date, but I wanted to respect his wishes either way. He hadn’t seen me with a man since he who shall not be named. “It’s not really a date. Just a couple of friends and a plus-one.”

“Well, bring the plus one-here if you can manage it.”

I ground my teeth together. “Mom.”

“I just meant to meet me.” She clutched her chest and acted innocent before saying, “But you were blessed with a wonderful figure. It wouldn’t hurt to show some cleavage.”

“All right.” Charlie groaned and covered his ears. “Enough of that please, God.”

My dad rubbed at his own chest, avoiding my eyes. “It would too hurt. Gah, Eloise.”

A honk came from the car outside, paired with another vibration from my phone. I bent down and kissed Piper’s head. “Love you, bug.” She gave a mwah sound back, which was good enough for me. Then I went to Charlie and rubbed the top of his blond hair, swaying the messy hair back and forth. “Love you, kiddo. Have fun, okay?”

His lips pulled a little. “Love you, May.”

I smiled at that and grabbed my phone off the counter and my keys off the hook, blowing them both one more kiss and leaving through the back door.

Olive, Finn, and I picked a booth near the back of Zane’s. The surrounding walls were covered with sports memorabilia and big-screen TVs broadcasting various sporting events. My eyes caught on the black drink menu with white text offering an extensive selection of beers on tap, including domestic and craft brews, but my hopes for something pink with an umbrella in it were slowly diminishing. On the TV facing us, there was a Colorado Avalanche hockey game going, and Finn and Olive kept stealing glances at it.

I looked at the daunting empty chair next to me, and a lump formed in my throat. I was so desperate to just get out of the house and see my friend that I hadn’t even asked if this guy himself understood that this wasn’t a date. Even if we hit it off, and it was some magical fit with a hot fireman or something, I didn’t have the time to invest in a relationship. It was stupid of me to agree with in the first place.

Finn cleared his throat, and Olive spoke up, her hands resting on her belly. “I think Colton is supposed to be here at six. We’re kind of early.”

I glanced at the nearest clock. The hands of it were a half-naked lady’s legs. Five more minutes.

Olive must have sensed my discomfort because she leaned across the table and spoke quickly. “Let me show you these shoes I’ve been dying to get our little Tater.”

“Oh, you guys settled on a name?” I asked.

Finn shook his head. “Nope. She just calls it that because she knows I hate it.”

Olive gasped and then shrugged, as if to say yeah, fair.

I giggled and watched her pull up the tiniest pair of Converses I had ever seen. So cute and so totally pointless. No baby needs shoes before they start walking. But I kept that to myself because these two were in pre-baby heaven, and I certainly did not want to pop that bubble.

“I love them,” I cooed. “He or she will look perfect in them.”

“I’m leaning toward he,” Finn said. “I feel like as hard as the stinker kicks, he’s got his daddy’s skiing ability in there.”

Olive rolled her eyes playfully. “Yeah, or she has Mommy’s ability to kick Daddy.” Finn guffawed at that and bent down to whisper something to her, making Olive giggle.

I refused to comment on how strange it was to hear your friends calling themselves Mommy and Daddy in the third person. But the PDA thing was cute. I couldn’t blame them for riding the babymoon high for as long as possible.

“You got Piper when she was six months old, right?” Olive asked.

I nodded. “Five months.”

“How was that?” Finn asked, taking a sip of water—he refused to order a beer around his wife, since they had made some kind of pregnancy pact.

I winced. Maybe it wasn’t hard for most people, but that time, when Piper was a baby, felt like a fever dream filled with pacis, bottles, and a mountain of diapers mixed with all-nighters and lots of crying.

“Um…very little sleep and a whole lot of diapers.”

Olive groaned. “I’m not ready.”

Finn reached a hand over and rubbed her back. “You are ready. I bet there was a whole lot of cuteness too, right?”

“Oh yeah.” I smiled. Even when she was screaming, you couldn’t deny those sweet chubby cheeks. “The cutest phase ever. You guys are going to be incredible parents.” I nodded at Olive when she eyed me like I was lying. But every bit was authentic. Even if they struggled, at least they had each other.

The bell hanging on the door chimed behind us, and a server called out “Welcome to Zane’s.” Then there was the sound of boots hitting the floor. A low, quiet thank you came out, and I turned to see a young man already waving at Finn. He was a little younger than I would have thought, somewhere around early to mid-twenties. But he was handsome—the kind of guy who looked like he opened doors for you and complimented your mother’s earrings. Scruffy blond hair, a little bit of a dark beard, a kind smile. Nothing my heart went crazy for, nothing that made my pulse skip, but cute. Definitely cute.

He introduced himself as Colton, a land surveyor who liked to be outdoors at all times but appreciated a good nap, and at some point, he mentioned loving Hemingway and thinking bald eagles were “the shit.” Not my type, if I even had one anymore. But if I had to sit next to anyone for the next couple of hours, he wouldn’t be my last pick.

He smiled at me kindly, ordered a craft beer, and struck up a conversation with Finn about a local hockey team that they both watched. Olive looked at me from across the table, mouthing, “Cute, right?” I gave a timid smile and dipped my chin.

If anything, tonight proved I wasn’t ready to date yet. I wasn’t ready to bring a man home to my parents, watch him shrivel up at their loud voices, and expect him to stick around. Much less bring someone home to Charlie and Pipes. Just the thought made my stomach cramp. Maybe I wasn’t ever going to be ready for that.

“So, Madeline.” He turned to me at a lull in his conversation with Finn. “What do you do for a living?”

My pulse did pick up at that. Cleaning was nothing to be embarrassed about by any means. And truthfully, I loved my job. The satisfying vacuum lines on a rug, clearing dust from hard-to-reach places, wiping kids’ fingerprints off the windows, their faceprints too, from where they stuck their cheeks to the glass to watch the snow fall outside. It was fun and easy, and I made enough money to pay the bills.

Yet every time I had to tell people what I did, I watched them flinch. They never realized they were doing it, and most recovered fairly quickly. Others, mostly old people, gave sympathetic looks afterward, as if I had a single thing to be ashamed about. That flinch, though, hurt. It felt like this little pinch in my side over and over again.

“I’m a housekeeper at the lodge.” I said it in a cheery voice and wore a bright smile that said I love my job and not an ounce of me is ashamed. Even so, his pupils widened and this wave of sympathy washed over him.

“Oh, that’s”—he paused to swallow—“fun. I bet you find cool stuff in the rooms.”

“Oh, I don’t clean the rooms.” Not that it mattered whatsoever. “I do the main spaces. Lobby, movie room, kids’ areas, locker room, stuff like that.”

He nodded and didn’t skip a beat when he said, “Ah, as long as you enjoy it.”

“But I’m in nursing school,” I tacked on quickly, as if I had to sell myself more. “I graduate next spring.”

I hated that I added that anytime I told people what I did for a living. If I loved it and it wasn’t harmful to myself or others, why did I care what other people thought? Specifically people I was willing to bet I would never see again.

“Oh, awesome!” He perked up at that, like I was a contestant on The Bachelor and I had just earned a rose tonight. The people pleaser in me revived itself at that. The dating part of my brain wrote it off as an ick.

We continued on with polite, simple, entirely boring conversation, and I was kind of grateful for that. Any signs of a spark would lead to complications.

And complicated was the very last thing I needed in my life.

Just as the thought entered my brain, the bell over the door chimed again behind us, and I watched as Finn’s eyes went wide. His shaking head dropped into his hand. “Oh no.”

Confused, I craned my neck and saw none other than everyone’s favorite six-foot-five children’s ski instructor walking our way, with snow on his boots and the widest grin on his face.

My mouth fell open as he strode to me in slow motion. His dark hair was scattered on his head like he couldn’t be bothered to brush it before coming here. He wore a dark green Carhartt jacket over a gray hoodie and black pants, and every eye in this place turned to him. So chaotically Cooper.

“Do you guys know hi—”

“Evening, friends. Sorry I’m late,” Cooper announced as he approached our table. He turned and looked at the old couple next to us, who were clearly on a date and wrapped his hands around the arms of their extra chair. “You two good-looking kids aren’t using this, are you?”

They both shook their heads, blushing.

He nodded. “Thank’y,” he said before turning it our way—my way—and setting it right between Colton and me. He pushed the chair so its legs tapped against my date’s and said, with very little room for argument, “Scuse me, fella. Just gonna squish in here. Thanks.”

He plopped his chair at the table right between me and the man, pulling up a menu, acting as though he had no clue that his armrest was pressed against mine. Or that his knee brushed my thigh.

My heart raced faster than it ever had.