Page 102 of Even After This
I stare at the full-length mirror propped on the brown-carpet floor at Western Warehouse, assessing the latest cowboy boots I’ve tried on.
Claire stands next to me, arms crossed, head cocked. “I like these the best. The black goes with anything, but the stitching gives them some personality.” She steps behind us to a bench where ten boxes of rejected footwear tower dangerously.
Turning my body, I study the boots from the opposite side. “Yeah. I agree. This pair is a solid option.” As I observe the crowded store, I shake my head. “I cannot believe I’m boot shopping on the way to the airport. On December twenty-second, no less.”
When I shift to face Claire, she cradles an oversized shoebox to her chest. “Your boyfriend’s taking you square-dancing on New Year’s Eve, which means you need to shed your city-girl shoes.” Her eyes glitter with mischief. “And I think you should go with this pair.”
“Where did these come from?” I snag the box and sit down on the bench. After a failed attempt to pry off the left boot, I straighten my leg toward Claire. “A little help, please.”
Pulling, she grunts out her answer. “I picked them up as an afterthought. But they might be the exact thing to complete your travel wardrobe.” When the shoe releases, she falls backward, landing on her tail end. Her surprised eyes find mine, and we both laugh.
I open the shoebox and grin. “What are these?”
“Perfect, right?” Claire sits next to me and gazes at the Texas flag–embroidered boots in my lap.
While pulling the left boot out of the box, I remove the tissue paper from the toe.
Claire claps her hands together and rubs them back and forth. “I have a good feeling about these boots.”
“This pair will make everyone in Colorado hate me. We Texans are so obnoxious.” As I push in, my heel gets stuck. Folding my body over to wrangle the boot on, I shake my head.
“Wear them with pride.”
“Well, he’s also a terrible dancer.” I step to the mirror, studying the different boot on each foot. “But either of these should protect my toes on the dance floor.”
My eyes dart from one boot to the other. One is a neutral color, safely matching the other items in my existing wardrobe. The other is an uncertain purchase, destined for one use, then for years in the back of my closet.
“Finding where you belong isn’t easy.” She flashes a smile and taps her toe to my foot wearing the Texas boot. “But it kind of feels like you should do it dressed in this pair. Take a piece of your history with you, but walk boldly into the next phase.”
“What am I doing?” I murmur to myself in the mirror. Christmas in Colorado with Harlan. This feels like a big step. One that I’m excited about. But nervous about all the same.
Claire rises, wraps her arms around me from behind, and rests her chin on my shoulder. Holding my gaze in the mirror, she says, “You’re living.”
Living. That word settles somewhere deep. Somewhere important.
I am living.
25
“I’mnot going.”Clutching the kitchen counter behind me, facing the room, I stare Harlan down.
The guesthouse on the Holcombe ranch outside of Colorado Springs provides a secluded hideaway. Which is perfect since I plan on doing just that. Hiding in this immaculate but homey, everything-looks-like-Pottery-Barn farmhouse.
A smile tugs at his lips. “Is it meeting my family, or skiing?”
“All of the above. Plus, I think I’m coming down with something.” I fake cough. “Some kind of weird throat bug going around on late-night flights. The pilot mentioned it right before we landed. The first twenty-four hours are critical. I shouldn’t be around anyone.”
Harlan swaggers to me and places his hands on my hips. “Do you know why my family’s going to love you?”
“Because I protected them from this terrible disease?” Turning my head, I release the most obnoxious hacking sound I can create.
His lips twitch. “No. They’re going to love you because you’re mine.”
My belly whooshes, but I snap back into my fears. “Stop being all handsome and charming.”
His fine physique contained in those black form-fitting ski pants and hunter-green thermal shirt is almost more than I can handle.
Leaning in, he gifts me with the most delicate of kisses. “I admit I’m pulling out the big guns to distract you.”
