Snowed Under (Aspen Peaks #2)

30. Madeline

F inals days always felt like an out-of-body experience. Like I’d spent all this time prepping for this day and still, after all those hours, I wasn’t prepared enough. Like the movie scenes where, in the brisk morning hours, sun rising slowly in the east, the two villages prepared their best for war, having no clue what’s on the other side. No clue if they’ll make it out alive.

Logically, I knew it was nothing similar, but for someone who avoided any and all conflict, it felt close enough.

I’d been up since four thirty, mostly on account of Piper’s staring waking me up, followed by her request of A Bug’s Life (“bug,” as she called it.) But it ended up being perfect because that left me with two hours to cram.

My other three exams were less taxing than this one was going to be. They were all proctored online tests that I was able to do at home while Charlie was at school and Piper was at Olive’s house, and with the three I’d taken, I managed a high B and two low A’s. I’d take it. As long as I finished strong, I was determined to be proud of myself after this was done.

Not to prove my parents wrong, but to let myself accept an accomplishment for once.

I still hadn’t talked to either of them since the fight. Cooper had come with me to pick up Piper after we left the lodge, and although I couldn’t see them, I rolled down the window in my car and heard him say a short “I’m here for Half-Pint, and that’s all.” Which made me smile. He came with us to pick up Charlie from school, and we all went back to Paradise Bakery for almond croissants and gelato. He sat next to Charlie in a booth as they talked about the upcoming competition while I bounced Piper on my knee, causing her to burst into fits of giggles. Cooper and I shared flirty smiles and occasional winks, our knees sometimes bumping under the table. It made up for everything that had happened that morning.

And sure enough, a week after our interview, Cooper pulled into our driveway, his mom in the passenger seat, and we all drove off in his SUV to see Disney on Ice at the Aspen District theater. I’d told Charlie he could bring a friend, assuming he would hate the entire affair and would probably need some kind of emotional support. But he just shook his head and said “no thanks. I’m fine.” So we invited Dr. Lora instead, who now insisted I call her just Lora. It was still taking some getting used to.

Piper informed me, in her own words, that she wanted Lola beside her in the car. So once we got her car seat in and adjusted, Charlie, Piper, and Lora all squished in the second row. For the entire drive, both kids were laughing at Cooper’s mom and the various toys or snacks she pulled out of her purse. Goldfish were being passed around in a circle like this was That Seventies Show and Lora was Hyde. Occasionally the “Dr. Lora” would show up, asking what color something was or annunciating her syllables. “Is this blue? Bluh-bluh-bloooo,” which made the rest of us snort.

When we pulled into the parking deck and took the elevator down to the event center, there were various off-brand carts lining the closed-off streets with bubble wands, princess crowns, light-up jewelry, and other merchandise with cross-eyed characters and misspelled names on them. Piper, in Cooper’s arms, dove straight for a bubble blower with Elsa’s face on it.

We’d come here last year, and I already knew the drill, so I reached for my toddler. “No, baby. They don’t let you bring them inside.”

“Bub, bub, bub.” Piper did her impression of a bubble blower, and I sighed. “Yes, but there are bubbles inside. We’ll get those.”

“Dis bub bub.” She pointed to a unicorn one that looked close to falling apart.

“Good job, Piper!” Lora said behind me. “Such good control of your speech! Can you say ‘bub—boool’?”

Cooper shook his head. “Why would they sell these out here if we can’t bring them in?”

“They’re not connected to the venue. It’s like a third-party merchandise rule. We learned the hard way last year when I spent fifty bucks out here, and then we had to go put it all in the car because they don’t allow it.”

“Hell nah.” Cooper shook his head and pulled out his leather wallet, taking a twenty out of it. “She’s bringing in the unicorn.”

Piper squealed and clapped when Cooper handed her the bubble blower, then proceeded to blow bubbles directly into all of our faces. I turned to Charlie. “I can get you something too,” I offered.

He shrugged. “No thanks. You can get me a game or something after.”

I snorted. “Right, because a ten-dollar bubble blower and a fifty-dollar Xbox game are on the same level.”

“Hey,” he said in defense. “You asked.”

We got in line for security to check my bag and Lora’s, and sure enough, three security guards told Piper and Cooper they couldn’t bring in external merchandise. To which Cooper said, and I quote, “You can take my life, you can take my freedom, but you will never take this damn bubble blower.” Only they did forcefully take it and throw it in the trash directly in front of Piper, causing the meltdown of the century. She cried and wailed over “bub bub” until we got inside the arena, where there were dozens of concession carts, cotton candy stands, and giant stuffed Disney characters as far as the eye could see. And Cooper, the suck-up, bought her every single thing she pointed to. Lora and I stood back, watching in amusement. I turned to Charlie. “As much as he’s dropping on her, I’ll have to buy you three Xbox games to make up for it.”

“You do what feels fair, May. I won’t hold you back.”

I snorted and wrapped an arm around him, ruffling his hair and giving him a quick squeeze.

By the time we sat down, center stage, we all had our hands full. Cooper with a giant stuffed Minnie Mouse, Piper with two bags of cotton candy and a plastic princess crown on her head, Charlie with two corn dogs and an Avalanche hat that I found for sale at one of the far kiosks. I held an enormous bucket of popcorn, enough for a group twice our size, and Lora held her phone, taking a million candid photos of us like we were a family on vacation and she was our hired photographer. Photos that probably felt cute in the moment but when looked back on, would be nothing but double chins and squinted eyes from laughing so hard.

Cooper and Piper shared the seat to my left, Charlie on my right, and Lora next to him. We watched as characters were revealed one by one, gliding in on their skates and dancing along to the popular movie soundtracks. When Elsa came out, you would have thought Piper had died and gone to heaven. The lights danced around us, bubbles flying left and right. Cooper’s hand reached for mine about halfway through, lacing our fingers. He lifted my hand and gave the back of it a quick kiss, squeezing it tight. I smiled at him and thought to myself that I loved him probably more than I’d loved anyone before him.

Which had been practically all I could focus on for the last week. Every time I sat to study for this last exam, memories of bubbles and lights, Piper and Cooper singing while Charlie and I laughed at them, and Lora shaking her head, came pouring to the front of my brain.

Today’s exam was different from those others because I’d have to go in person. Most of the classes allowed proctored tests from my laptop, but occasionally, the more strict ones meant going to one of those strict test-taking facilities that meant putting your phone, keys, wallet, everything into a locker, then being forced to take the test in a tiny cubicle under harsh fluorescent lighting. The closest one was thirty minutes away, and it took another thirty minutes to sign paperwork and set up.

Which was why I now had only an hour until Olive was supposed to be here to watch the kids for me, since it was a Saturday, and I was certainly not asking my parents to watch her.

So when my phone buzzed with Finn’s name on it, I could only assume the worst.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Get this thing out of me!” Olive screamed in the background as Finn casually said, “Hey, Madeline, so uh—”

“Olive’s in labor?” I assumed. She was only thirty-five weeks along, but at her last appointment, the doctor did say that baby Beckett was pretty large for her gestation period, and early labor wasn’t unlikely.

“I’m gonna die.”

“Baby, please don’t say that. You know I can’t live without my grinch.”

“Shut up. Everyone in the entire world, shut up.”

Finn whispered low to me. “So, we won’t make it this morning.”

I smiled at the thought of Finn rushing them to the hospital and Olive gripping his forearm until her knuckles were white and his skin was bruised. “It’s fine. Go have a baby. Thoughts and prayers. Tell her she’s gonna do great.”

“I would, but I’m supposed to shut up. I’ll do that later.”

“Send me all the updates. I want to hear everything!”

“Will do,” Finn whispered.

“This is my nightmare.”

“Okay, gotta go.” My phone beeped, and I called Cooper. He answered on the second ring.

“Morning, Madeline, my studious girlfriend. My soon-to-be all-free, all-mine girlfriend.” The smile in his voice made my cheeks hurt from grinning.

“Good morning,” I answered. “So, Olive’s in labor—”

“What?” he shouted, and I nearly dropped my phone. Piper, who was on the other end of the couch, crawled to sit in my lap and listen in. “They called you before me?”

“Well, to be fair, they were supposed to watch Piper while I took my exam, so that’s probably why.”

He let out a humph. “Excuses.”

“Well, I was calling to see if you were super busy this morning or could you possibly come watch the kids so I don’t have to—”

“Talk to your parents, who we’ve agreed to shun until Piper graduates from high school.”

“Precisely.”

“Of course. Give me like twenty minutes, all right?”

Ten minutes later, he was at the door, three Xbox games in hand, including one with Disney characters on it. When I eyed it curiously, he shrugged. “Seemed like the best way to please both of them.” He lowered his voice. “I also have a whole bag of Slim Jims in my backpack.”

“Oh good, so you don’t even need to know CPR or anything.”

“Nope. I’m qualified enough.”

Charlie and Piper followed Cooper around like two newborn ducks that had imprinted on the first thing they saw after hatching. He’d walk to the kitchen, and they were right behind him. He set up the video game, and they watched his every move from two feet over.

“You ready for it?” Cooper asked, standing over me as both kids were busy on the couch.

“I think so. I crammed as much as I could this morning. Even if it doesn’t go well, I really do think I tried my best, you know?”

“You did, and I’m so proud of you.”

I didn’t know what it said about me that the words proud of you were a turn-on for me. Probably that I had mommy and daddy issues—a double dose, if you will. But either way, I wrapped two arms around Cooper and squeezed him tight, planting a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you so much,” I whispered. Not just for saying he was proud and not for agreeing to come watch them. But just for…everything.

I pulled back enough to look him in the eye as I said. “I don’t think I realized how badly I was running on E until I met you.”

He squinted down at me. “Madeline, I was the one on E. You’ve given me a new purpose. Made me a better man in every way.”

He bent down as I lifted up, and we met halfway, his lips pressing to mine in the sweetest, slowest kiss. Like molasses being poured. His mouth brushed mine a moment longer than we probably should have before he backed away, hands resting on my waist.

“I love you. Go kick some nurse ass.” He reached one hand down to squeeze my bottom, and I giggled, grabbing my keys.

I gave both of the kids quick kisses and goodbyes, but neither of them even glanced up at me, entirely focused on their newest Cooper gift. He claimed he’d stopped trying to buy into friendships, but these two kids had been more spoiled in the last month and a half than they had been their whole lives.

And it made me love him even more.