Page 17 of It’s Me, but Different

“How are the kids doing?” Sloane asks in an attempt to return to safer ground than memories of that time.

“They're having… a much better time than I expected,” I confess. “This place is doing them a lot of good. Ana Sofia is obsessed with skiing, and Theo… Theo smiles more now. It's been a long time since I've seen him so relaxed.”

“Silver Peaks has that effect on people,” she comments. “Harper always says it's a magical place. As if these mountains could heal the soul.”

I can barely concentrate on the flavor of the first course. Scallops over roasted butternut squash cream, decorated with leaves that look like small works of art and accompanied by an excellent white wine. The taste is extraordinary, but I'm too distracted by how Sloane's lips curve over the fork or the memory of her fingers inside me.

“River experimented for months to achieve this texture,” she tells me. “She says every dish should tell a story.”

“And what story does this one tell?”

“Wait, I have it written down,” she confesses, taking out her phone to read the text. “It's the first thaw of spring. The softness of melting snow mixed with the promise of something new that's about to come.”

Shit.

Those words hit me straight in the heart. Because it's exactly what I feel right now. It's as if something inside me is melting after years. As if something new is about to emerge, though I don't dare name it yet.

River has left everything too well prepared. Now I understand why she had that reputation for driving any woman crazy.

And when the main course arrives—lamb cooked at low temperature with black truffle puree—Sloane ventures into more personal territory.

“Are you happy in Colorado?” she asks suddenly, while pouring me a glass of red wine.

“I couldn't tell you,” I admit. “I think the quick answer is no. And you? Are you happy here?”

“I'm starting to be,” she whispers, taking my hand across the table.

The sun begins its descent behind the mountains as we finish the lamb dish. The sky colors change from blue to gold, then to orange, and finally to a soft pink that reflects on the snow as if the entire mountain were bathed in the light of a million candles.

“Come,” Sloane sighs, standing up and extending her hand. “From the terrace you can see much better.”

The contact sends an electric shock through my entire body, and from the way her fingers tense around mine, I know she felt it too.

The Peak's terrace is a marvel of engineering. Protected from the wind, but completely open to the views, it allows us to contemplate the sunset spectacle without glass barriers. The cold air makes me shiver, but the caresses on my lower back that follow make the low temperatures suddenly stop mattering.

“Fuck,” I mutter through my teeth when the sun begins to disappear behind the highest peaks.

The sky transforms into a canvas of impossible colors. Deep reds mix with bright oranges and soft pinks, while the first stars begin to twinkle shyly in the distance. The mountains are silhouetted like dark shapes against this symphony of light, and for a moment, the entire world seems to hold its breath.

“This is… the most beautiful thing I've ever seen,” I admit in a whisper.

“It's much better being next to you,” Sloane adds, and when I turn toward her, I discover she's not looking at the sunset. She's looking at me.

“Sloane… please,” I hiss, but I don't know what else to say.

“Do you ever wonder what would have happened?” she asks quietly. “If I hadn't been such an idiot… if I had chosen you and not the Olympics.”

“Many times,” I confess before thinking about what I just said.

“I wonder about it every day,” she admits, placing her hands on my waist and moving closer to me.

I know I should move away, take a step back, keep my distance. But I can't. It's as if I'm enchanted by her closeness, by the intensity of that gaze, by the way her hands cling to my waist.

“Esme…” she whispers my name as if it were the most beautiful thing in the world.

She moves closer, and I can feel the warmth of her body despite the freezing air. She releases one hand to caress my cheek, and I close my eyes at feeling the contact of her skin against mine.

“I haven't done this since…” I start to say, but I stop.