Page 101 of Curvy Cabin Fever

On our fifth night alone,curled in bed with moonlight spilling across the sheets, I ask the question that’s been hovering between us.

“Why did you stay? After they left?”

Damien traces patterns on my bare shoulder, his touch feather-light. “Thought that was obvious.”

“To be with me?”

“Partly.” His finger trails down my arm. “And partly because I needed time with just you. Without Morgan’s constant energy or Rhett’s analytical mind.”

“You love them, though.”

“With everything I have.” His voice is certain. “But what I feel for you needed space to grow on its own. Not just as part of what we all have together.”

I prop myself up on one elbow, study his face in the dim light. “And? What’s the verdict?”

His smile is slow, almost reluctant. “That I’m in deeper than I expected to be.”

“Scared?”

“Terrified.” He says it plainly, without shame. “I don’t do vulnerability easily, Aria. Ask anyone.”

“You’re doing it now.”

He reaches up, tucks hair behind my ear. “Only with you.”

The words hang between us, more intimate than any touch we’ve shared.

I think about that first night—how angry I’d been at my car, at the weather, at this arrogant stranger who made me feel both infuriated and alive.

“I thought you were the most aggravating man I’d ever met,” I confess.

His laugh is quiet in the darkness. “I was.”

“Still are, sometimes.”

“But you’re still here.”

I reach up, touch his face, the stubble rough under my fingertips. “So are you.”

He turns his head, presses a kiss to my palm. “Always will be.”

And in that moment, with the snow falling silent outside and his heart beating steady beneath my hand, I believe him completely.

On the last night before Rhett and Morgan return, we build a fire that roars against the winter chill. Damien sits on the floor between my legs while I run my fingers through his hair. Something I’ve discovered makes him almost purr with contentment.

“When they come back,” I broach the subject, “what changes?”

He leans his head back to look at me. “Everything. Nothing.” He takes my hand, presses a kiss to my palm. “We figure it out day by day. The four of us.”

“Has anyone ever done this before? Made it work?”

“Probably.” His eyes reflect the firelight. “But not the way we will.”

“Confident as always.”

“With good reason.” He turns, rising to his knees to face me. “Look at the facts. We’ve all chosen each other. Eyes wide open. No illusions.”

I trace his jawline with my finger. “Some would say it’s doomed to fail.”