Page 7 of Meesha & Connor (What Happens In Vegas #2)

I tap my gloved fingers against the steering wheel, watching Dennis peer through my SUV’s window at the lakefront property.

The sky hangs low and heavy, pregnant with the promised blizzard.

Snowflakes already dance in the air—not the gentle kind, but the angry swirling ones that warn of worse to come.

“This lot has the best view of Winter Bay,” I explain, keeping my voice professional despite my growing unease. “Perfect for a year-round residence. The sunsets here are incredible, especially in the summer.”

Dennis nods, his eyes narrowing as he studies the snow-covered land. “Beautiful location. Not far from you and Meesha’s new build, right?”

I feel my jaw tighten. That’s the third comment about Meesha in thirty minutes.

“The property itself is two acres,” I continue, ignoring his remark. “Already has foundation work completed by the previous owner, which saves you months of construction time, là.”

“Meesha mentioned she works at the hospital.” Dennis turns to me. “She must have fascinating stories.”

I grind my back molars together, forcing my face to remain neutral despite the intrusion. “She’s very good at her job,” I say curtly, checking my watch. “We should get going. This storm’s picking up fast, tabarnac.”

“Ten years with the same woman?” Dennis says, not moving. “That’s impressive these days. Most people I know can’t make it past the honeymoon phase.”

A slideshow of memories flashes through my mind. Meesha’s laughter on our first date, her tears when I was injured and forced to give up hockey, her glowing face when we had a pregnancy “scare” last year.

Ten years of building a life together, learning each other’s secrets, creating a bond that’s become the foundation of everything I am. How could I possibly explain what she means to me?

“When you find the right person, time doesn’t matter.”

He studies me for a moment. “You’re a lucky man. Some guys spend their whole lives looking for what you have.”

Something in his tone feels off, like he’s testing me. The wind howls outside, matching the growing storm inside me.

“I think we’re done for today,” I say, starting the engine. “The weather’s getting wosening.”

Dennis smiles, the expression not quite genuine. “Of course. Wouldn’t want to worry Meesha by being late, would we?”

As I pull away from the property, snow swirling around us in angry gusts, I can’t shake the feeling that Dennis isn’t just looking for real estate. There’s something calculated about his interest in my relationship—something that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

My phone buzzes as I navigate the increasingly treacherous roads. I press the button on my steering wheel. “Hello?”

“Connor?” Meesha’s voice fills the car, tight with concern. “Where are you? The weather’s getting really bad.”

“Just dropping Dennis off at his hotel,” I reply, glancing at my passenger, who watches me with an unsettling smile. “Then I need to check on Maman before heading back to the rental.”

“Babe, they’re closing roads already. The hospital just announced emergency protocols.” Her worry travels through the line, warming me despite everything. “Maybe you should go straight to the rental?”

“Je vais faire vite, ma belle. Just want to make sure Maman has everything she needs.”

“Please be careful,” she says softly. “Text me when you’re on your way back.”

“I will. Je t’aime.”

“I love you, too.”

After dropping Dennis off with a curt goodbye, I make my way to my house. The roads are nearly empty now, visibility decreasing by the minute. By the time I pull into my driveway, the windshield wipers can barely keep up with the snow.

I hurry to the front door, fumbling with my keys as wind whips snow against my face.

“Connor! You shouldn’t be out in this weather,” Frédérique says, opening the door.

She’s wrapped in a plush cream bathrobe, cinched tightly at her waist.

“Where’s Maman?” I stomp snow from my boots in the entryway, feeling the welcome warmth seep into my cheeks.

“Sleeping. Her pain medication makes her drowsy.” She tugs the robe. “Before you go... could we talk? Please?”

I check my watch, hearing the wind’s banshee wail intensify outside. “Make it quick.”

She leads me to the kitchen, her fingers toying with the belt of her robe. “I’ve been thinking about us.”

My body tenses. “That was a long time ago.”

“Was it?” she asks softly. The robe loosens as she leans against the counter. “Sometimes it feels like yesterday.”

I keep my eyes fixed on her face. “Frédérique, I’m engaged to Meesha.”

“She doesn’t have to know.”

“I would know,” I reply, the words firm but quiet. “I should go.”

“We were each other’s first. And I’m right here...” she whispers, untying her robe to reveal a see-through camisole underneath.

I turn away immediately, fixing my gaze on the refrigerator where the magnets from Meesha and my travels create a colorful timeline of our relationship.

“Connor. Don’t you ever wonder—”

“No,” I interrupt, moving toward the hallway. “I love Meesha. This conversation is over.”

“I thought... I misread things.”

“Clearly. I’m here for my mother. Nothing else.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s forgotten,” I say simply.

When I open the front door, I’m met with a wall of white so dense it looks solid. The wind howls through the crack, blasting ice crystals against my face. I can’t even see my truck parked mere feet away.

“Tabarnac,” I mutter, slamming the door shut.

Frédérique stands behind me, concern replacing the earlier invitation on her face. “You can’t drive in that.”

I send a quick text to Meesha.

Storm’s bad. Stay at the hospital. Don’t try to drive home.

Her response comes quickly.

I know, babe. We’re all staying put.

I exhale slowly, but don’t fully relax. Opening my weather app, I check the forecasted path of the storm, estimating how long before it ends.

Six days later, I’m surrounded by wedding paraphernalia in my home office.

Tiny bottles of maple syrup cover every surface as I tie each one with a silver ribbon, adding a small card with our names and wedding date.

The repetitive motion is a welcome distraction from being stuck in this house with Maman and Frédérique.

“Connor?” Maman calls from the hallway. “You need to eat something, my son.”

“Later,” I answer, reaching for another bag. The storm that trapped me here nearly a week ago has morphed into the worst blizzard Winter Bay has seen during the month of April. Roads remain impassable, even for emergency vehicles, in many areas.

My phone buzzes with Meesha’s daily check-in. For the sixth day, I maintain the illusion that I’m at the rental house, not wanting to worry her with the knowledge that I’m trapped with my ex.

Another crazy shift. Thank God for hospital generators. I miss you so much.

I type back carefully.

Miss you too. Keeping busy with wedding stuff.

That much is true. Unable to escape, I’ve thrown myself into wedding preparations. The seating chart that caused so much debate is now finalized. I’ve confirmed our honeymoon reservations in Ibiza, compiled our music selections for the DJ, and sent final payments to all vendors.

“You’ve been working all day.” Frédérique appears in the doorway with a steaming mug. “Hot chocolate from your mother.”

The scent of rich cocoa is tempting. “Thanks, but I’m good. Tell Maman I appreciate it.”

“You’re quite dedicated,” she observes, gesturing to the maple syrup bottles. “Meesha is lucky.”

“I’m the lucky one,” I reply automatically, tying another ribbon.

My phone lights up with a call from Meesha. I answer immediately, heart lifting at the sound of her voice.

“Hey! Just finished another double shift,” she says, exhaustion evident in her tone. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine,” I lie, watching Frédérique slip quietly from the room. “Just finishing the wedding favors.”

“You’re amazing.” She sighs. “While I’ve been trapped at the hospital, you’ve been handling everything.”

Guilt twists in my stomach, but I push it aside. “That’s what partners do, ma belle. We carry each other.”

“I finally finished The Silent Patient last night,” Meesha says, a hint of excitement breaking through her exhaustion.

“About time!” I tease, settling back in my chair. “What did you think?”

“I can’t believe that twist! When it turned out the therapist was actually the—”

“Husband of the woman he was treating? I know! And she never spoke because she recognized him.”

“It completely blindsided me,” Meesha laughs. “I had to go back and reread certain parts to catch all the clues. You were right about the ending.”

“Je t’avais dit, eh? Told you it would blow your mind.” I smile, picturing her curled up with the book. “Speaking of mind-blowing, did you check out that meteor shower forecast I sent you? The Lyrids should be peaking next week.”

Her enthusiasm practically vibrates through the phone. “Yes! Already marked it on our calendar. Do you think we’ll be able to see them from the deck of the new house?”

“If not the deck, definitely from that clearing by the Bay.” I pull up the astronomy app we both use, the one that’s guided our stargazing adventures for years. “The forecast says minimal cloud cover, and being away from the town lights should give us perfect viewing conditions.”

“Perfect timing,” she says warmly. “Remember that Perseid shower we watched the summer we met? When you brought that ridiculous telescope that took an hour to set up?”

“How could I forget? We sat on that old blanket drinking thermos coffee until sunrise.” My voice warms with the memory. “You brought those homemade oatmeal cookies that crumbled all over us.”

“They were delicious though,” she defends, laughing. “And they gave you the perfect excuse to brush crumbs off my shoulder, which was clearly your first move.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” I chuckle, remembering how nervous I’d been to touch her, even casually. “Now we have our own viewing spot right by the lake. No more driving to the state park at midnight with your dad or Antonio as chaperones.”

“The perks of adulting,” she agrees. “You’ll never guess who is stuck together at her apartment during this storm?”

“Who?”

“Jessa and Jaxon. That’s six days now with just the two of them.”

I chuckle, remembering how those two are always sniping at each other. Jaxon is the CEO of JAK Innovations, which he founded with Kamal and Antonio—Meesha’s stepbrother.

Thank God for those three visionaries and their business acumen. Investing my money in JAK turned into a windfall beyond my wildest expectations.

It’s almost embarrassing how wealthy their success has made me, transforming what could have been a career-ending tragedy into financial freedom I never imagined possible.

“Jaxon might not survive.”

“Actually,” Meesha’s voice drops conspiratorially, “I think they’re probably fucking by now.”

“Jaxon’s a lucky man,” I mumble. “I wish I were in his position with you right now.”

“Me too, babe.”

“Just imagine, you and me, snowed in with nowhere to go. No hospital shifts, no clients. Just us, a fireplace, and days to ourselves.” I close my eyes, picturing it. “I’d keep you warm in more ways than one, ma belle.”

“Connor Beauregard,” she laughs, but I can hear the desire in her voice. “What exactly would we do with all that time?”

A smile tugs at my lips as I remember our weekend in Montreal last winter. “Remember that bed-and-breakfast in Old Montreal? The one with the claw-foot tub big enough for two?”

Her voice drops to a whisper. “How could I forget?”

“First, I’d run you a bath with those lavender salts you love,” I say, “And afterward, I would put you to bed still wrapped in that towel. Et puis, I’d take my time unwrapping you again.”

“Mmm, I like the sound of that,” she murmurs. “Maybe we can recreate that scenario once the roads clear.”

“Certain, ma belle,” I promise, my heart aching with how much I miss her. “Count on it. As soon as this blizzard ends, je m’en coming for you.”