XV. Ice and Fire

                                    

                                          
They squeezed into the small window of the tree house, looking up at the clear night sky.
"It's amazing. I'm seeing the same stars here in Sutherland," she murmured.
Emory stole her a look, his thoughts drifting to his last conversation with Henry. He didn't see her like he did his past lovers. She was more like a friend who could tell amazing stories and make him laugh. She was always up to something, always thinking of mischievous things. Restless and unexpected.
But she was different if she wasn't too excited or in haste. There was gracefulness in her movements whenever she was still, and everything was quiet and slow. Just like tonight, with her attention fixated on the stars, she looked like a floating snowflake. Light, soft, and delicate.
"Was Lucy telling the truth when she said we've met before?"
"You and her?"
And of course, she would grab every opportunity to taunt. He lightly rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean."
She laughed. "Yes. As children."
He leaned his face further out the window, his shoulder touching hers.
"We also met one more time in London."
His head snapped toward her in surprise, and her face was right there, too close, just a hairsbreadth away. He would have pulled back, but her smiling eyes froze him. They had never been this close, never shared a breath. And he never would have guessed it would be quite alarming.
He turned his head at the same time she did and he took a moment to compose himself.
He was merely a man trapped in a snowy mountain. He had needs. She was a woman with beautiful eyes and an amazing sense of humor.
That's all, he thought.
He cleared his throat. "Where?"
"A party eight years ago." The memory only she could remember carved a small smile onto her lips. "I followed you around. You caught me."
"I don't remember."
"You wouldn't. It was a brief encounter." She chuckled, shaking her head. "I pretended to be someone else, and we talked about London food."
"You must be lying. I'd remember such an encounter."
Her shoulders shook. "I'm not lying. We argued about gnomes, too."
At that, Emory blinked.
"Do you remember?"
He frowned because he had a faint memory. It was a hazy picture of a long blond hair and a mischievous smile. "I think so. What did we argue about gnomes?"
"I said they're good luck. You said they're evil."
He scoffed, shaking his head.
"That's okay," she said, leaning back on her hands. "I don't blame you for not remembering. You didn't know me."
He turned slightly so he could look at her. "But you've always known me."
As she smiled at him, bathed in moonlight, her choppy light blond hair almost white, he could only think of one word: incandescent. And it wasn't just the moonlight. It was her smile and the mischievous spark in her eyes.
But he could almost see the thin wall around her. He wanted to see through that, too. Know how dim the other side was. What secrets and pain were hiding there.
He wanted to know why she wanted to marry him. Why she had put up with him all this time. Someone with her spirit should have just left. But then, it also took a strong woman to have survived what he had put her through.