Chapter 63

Lauren

The master bedroom was silent except for the crackling fireplace in the corner, its warm glow casting flickering shadows against the walls. Outside, the wind howled against the glass, a storm rolling over the peaks in the distance. Inside, the storm was brewing between me and Alexander.

“I'm taking the couch,” I said firmly, tossing my bag from the bed to the plush cushions. “And I’m not your Luna.”

Alexander leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Like hell you are. I don’t remember you being so pouty.”

I turned to face him, narrowing my eyes. “Oh, I didn’t realize you suddenly cared about sleeping arrangements. Pretty sure you could pass out on a pile of bricks and call it a night. Why not try a bed?”

He smirked, stepping closer, the scent of his cologne—something dark and woodsy—curling into the air between us. “And I didn’t realize you were so territorial about a cushion.”

I scoffed. “We are not sharing a bed. End of discussion.”

“Yep.” He dropped his bag onto the couch near the window, settling into it with exaggerated ease. “So I sleep here.”

I eyed the chair, then him. “That thing is too small for you.”

“Take the couch, don’t take the couch. There is no pleasing you.”

“I told you—”

“Maybe I’d rather suffer through a stiff neck than listen to you snarl at me all night.” He stretched his arms behind his head, the muscles in his forearms flexing in the dim light, and I couldn’t help but notice. “Just get in the bed.”

I swallowed, ignoring how my pulse picked up at the subtle command. “Suit yourself.”

Climbing into bed, I turned my back to him, burying myself under the thick blankets, but the tension in the air clung to my skin like static. Even with the physical space between us, I could still feel him—his presence heavy in the room, his gaze burning into the back of my neck.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to sleep, but my body betrayed me. Every shift he made, every slight breath, seemed to rattle me further.

Then, just as the silence stretched too long, his voice broke through. Soft, dark, and far too close:

“Take it easy, Lauren,” he breathed, his voice dropping low, smooth like velvet. “I’m not here to cause trouble tonight.”

I didn’t answer, but my heart picked up pace as it sounded like he moved from the couch.

My breath hitched, and for a split second, I thought he might be over me, leaning in.

But the quiet was too thick, and I was left fighting the instinct to pull away... or pull him closer.

I turned my head only to find the night’s chilled air, and Alexander’s slowly rising and falling back to me on the couch.

My breath puffed the air, everything feeling colder now.

The next morning, golden light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. It kissed the frost tracing delicate, intricate patterns on the glass, transforming the windows into works of art.

The air was crisp, mingling with the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee and the earthy aroma of the woodsy lodge, the warmth of the fire flickering in the hearth nearby.

Alexander was still on the couch when I woke, a quiet silhouette against the dim room. His head rested, tilted on his shoulder, and his arms were folded across his chest as if the world could wait for him to move.

Even in sleep, he looked effortlessly composed, radiating an ease that made him both maddening and somehow perfect.

I swung my legs over the bed, the cold wooden floor biting against my bare skin, and a shiver ran up my spine. He stirred slightly, a small shift in his position, but he didn’t wake.

I exhaled, feeling the weight of the tension that still clung to the air from last night’s argument.

I should have felt more relief. After all, the morning was new, and the world outside seemed to have reset itself, but the lingering heat between us—the unresolved things left unsaid—kept pulling at me, tightening my chest.

Today, we were waiting for the hospital’s test results, which meant a full day at the lodge. A day with him.

I winced at the thought, knowing that “stuck with him” was both a curse and something else I wasn’t ready to admit. I couldn’t avoid him, not completely.

But at least I had the little pride and joy of a distraction—the kids were here, and they were the only thing keeping me from snapping at his smirk or his silent presence.

Avoiding Alexander was the plan. It was a good plan. Until Abigail and Owen had other ideas.

“Can we go skiing?” Abigail pleaded, practically bouncing in her snow boots. “Please?”

Owen, less enthusiastic but still intrigued, shrugged. “I guess I’ll try. But if I fall, I’m done.”

“Lauren and I have work to do—” Alexander started, but Abigail cut him off with a groan.

“You’re both just scared.”

Alexander arched a brow, glancing at me. “Scared?”

I folded my arms. “I am not scared.”

“Then prove it,” Abigail challenged.

Which was how I ended up in the ski rental lodge, tugging on a too-tight jacket while Alexander smirked beside me, already dressed in sleek black gear like he’d just walked out of a winter sports commercial.

“You’ve done this before, right?” I asked, adjusting my gloves.

“Plenty.”

“Of course you have,” I muttered.

He leaned in, his voice dropping. “You should let me teach you.”

I scoffed, ignoring the way my stomach flipped. “Not a chance.”

The slopes were breathtaking, the mountains stretching endlessly under a sky that had begun to darken with thick, rolling clouds.

Owen and I were struggling.

A lot.

Every attempt to glide down the gentle beginner’s slope ended in some form of disaster. Meanwhile, Abigail and Alexander were effortless, carving down the hill with perfect ease, Abigail laughing wildly as she cut through the powder.

At least I knew where she got her athletic’s from.

Alexander skidded to a stop next to me, his movements fluid. “Need help yet?”

I huffed, brushing snow off my jacket. “I’m fine.”

His eyes twinkled with amusement. “That’s one word for it.”

I rolled my eyes and attempted another push forward—only for my ski to catch, sending me tumbling straight into him.

Warm hands caught my waist, steadying me before I could fall completely. I gasped, suddenly far too aware of how close we were. My fingers clutched at his jacket, his warmth radiating through the layers of fabric.

His breath brushed against my cheek. “You’re supposed to let the skis do the work, not fight against them.”

I swallowed hard, my heart hammering. “Thanks for the tip.”

His lips quirked upward. “Anytime.”

For a moment, neither of us moved, the silence stretching longer than it should have. Then, Abigail’s voice called from down the slope, shattering the spell that had settled between us.

“I got this,” I said quickly, pushing away from him, my legs wobbling as I tried to find my balance.

Alexander smirked, effortlessly catching my arm and steadying me again. “Alright, suit yourself, princess.”

He turned and plucked Owen from the snow a few yards away, lifting him easily and skiing with him between his legs as the sound of Owen and Abigail’s laughter echoed through the air.

A small smile tugged at my lips as I watched them. Surprisingly, Alexander was a good dad. Which was… a strange thought.

The wind howled, sending a bitter chill through the air and flecks of snow into my eyes. I narrowed my gaze at the sky—the clouds were thick, dark, and low. Maybe more snow was coming, or a storm, but the weather on these peaks was never certain.

I hesitated, unsure what to think. Then Abigail’s voice called again, distant but insistent.

“Come on, Mom!”