Page 78 of On the Slopes of Tahoe
Less than a week.
“Ah. Well, safe travels,” Mom says, and she sounds like she actually might mean it.
“Thank you.”
“We don’t want to keep you. Enjoy your evening,” Dad says. “Erica, I’ll walk you to your car.”
She nods, walking one step behind him to the door, but then she glances back at us and I think she almost smiles.
What the hell was that?
“I have no idea,” Breck muses, and I realize I spoke the question aloud.
He reaches his arm around my shoulder and pulls me back into his side before burying his nose in my hair.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Breck
Istand, eyes closed and face tilted up to welcome the sun, as the water laps around the dock at Valhalla. Today’s ceremony was simple and perfect, and I find myself walking through every moment, proud of what we accomplished.
Each elopement I’ve officiated over the last few months feels like an insight into the true value of love and companionship. These are couples who aren’t looking for the fanfare of a big wedding: the trappings, gifts, and praise of those around them.They long for something pure, to cherish the union as something that belongs only to them.
My heart constricts like it’s physically grasping for a love like that. Like my parents had. Not for show, but because you want to be tied to your partner unconditionally. In hindsight, I should’ve known when Talia refused to get married over and over again that something wasn’t right.
In the weeks since I burned her letter, I’ve been ruminating on Rory’s words.
The future might look different for you and Willow, but you have so much to look forward to. There’s something better waiting for you. A better job, a better relationship.
And I’m finally beginning to believe her. That’s what I want—for me and for Willow. Where I’m struggling is with picturing it. All I can see right now is Tahoe—and Rory. I refuse to think of her as a rebound or as anything less than the gift she is. She’s been my rock in this storm. But even with the squall finally settling around me, trying to imagine being back in Sydney in a few days is like looking through murky water. It’s all blurry and indistinct.
My professional future is hazy at best, a complete blind-spot at worst. Helping Rory get Willow Tree Elopements up and running has been a distraction from that. The way she’s embraced this new business, even if a little cautiously, is inspiring. It makes me hopeful I can reimagine what I thought my life would look like. I can’t see it though. Not yet, at least.
I turn on the dock to face the buildings of Valhalla. The rustic, shingle-style siding and green trim are unique and meld perfectly with the imposing pine trees that surround them. The girls stare down at the camera around Willow’s neck, checking the images she took and comparing them to the ones on Rory’s camera. Rory’s head kicks back at whatever Willow says. I owe her so much for the progress Willow’s made too. For Willow tobe so far away from home for so long was a gamble, but Rory’s been her friend, inspired her with photography, and I’m glad she can take that with her when we go home.
We only have two days left, and we can’t extend our time any longer no matter how badly I may want to. Willow’s teachers are excited to have her back in the classroom, and I know she needs to be with her peers, her friends. I can’t expect Wes and Joss to keep up with my house and everything else I left behind in Sydney forever either.
I’d love to live out my days with zero responsibilities and be on constant vacation, but I need to find a way for myself, a new goal, a new passion to filter my skills into. Working with Rory has been incredible, but it’s time for her to fly on her own. She’s set to move into her new apartment a few days after we leave, and I wish I could help her get settled, like she did for us. She needs to do this on her own though, to prove to herself she can. And I need to find a way forward for me and Willow. To prove to myselfthatIcan.
I shuffle my boots over the slick boards, turning to take in the view of the lake. I’ve loved Sydney for as long as I can remember, but Tahoe is going to keep a piece of my heart. When I make the full circle, Rory’s there, a few feet from me on the dock, and I know it’s her I’ll be leaving that piece with.
“Ready to go?” she asks, her smile not reaching her eyes.
“Yeah. I was just taking it all in one last time.” My throat feels thick and my eyes burn.
I need to keep it together.
“It will still be here if you ever come back.” There’s a tremor in her voice and she looks past me to the lake.
“Yeah. I hope it will.” I inhale the fresh mountain air and wrap an arm around her shoulder, nudging her playfully.
I look for Willow, finding her by a tree, and my brow furrows. What’s she up to? She’s bent down, hands moving over the snow.I’m squinting so hard under the sun’s bright rays that I miss the snowball that comes sailing at me. THWACK. It’s a direct hit square to the chest.
“Bloody hell!” I shout, but it’s drowned out by Rory’s laughter. She’s bent double next to me, hands on her knees. Then it’s her turn as a ball of ice and snow hits her in the shoulder and she squeals. Jerking up, her eyes go wide then narrow into a playful death glare.
“You’re going down, ankle-biter,” I yell in Willow’s direction, but she just snickers and picks up more snowballs.
Rory and I fan out, moving in opposite directions. I hide behind a tree, making as many as I can. The crunch of fallen pine needles and leaves alerts me to someone’s presence. I sling my arm out around the tree and throw the snowball, only to have it collide with Rory’s stomach with anoof.
