2. Charlie
1650 Words
Christmas Eve arrived quielty, hidden beneath fresh snow and the illusion of peace.
I woke to silence so comfortable it felt like a production. No traffic. No distant voices. Just the soft hiss of the coals burning low in the hearth, and the quiet sound of snow against the windows. The storm had swallowed the world overnight, turning the mountains into pale, white dreams.
For a moment, lying there beneath the thick blankets, I forgot where I was. Forgot the expectations. Forgot the question hanging unspoken in the air.
Then my phone buzzed on the bedside table.
I'm here.
Two words, that's all it took, two words and my heart kicked stupidly against my ribs, my stomach fluttered.
Showering quickly, I let the hot water steam away the stiffness in my muscles from travel. And nerves. When I stepped back into the room, wrapped in a fluffy white robe, there was a knock at the door.
I opened it to find Hunter standing there, snow-dusted and smiling like he'd stepped straight out of a holiday commercial. Dark coat, scarf loose at his throat, his confidence so loud and natural as breathing.
"There you are," he said, pulling me into his arms before I could utter a word. He smelled like cold air and his cologne. Familiar. Comforting. Almost. "I missed you."
I let myself melt into him, just a little. "You made it."
"Wouldn't miss it for the word." His words caressed my skin as he kissed my temple. "Especially today."
The word today landed with an uncertain weight.
Breakfast was a blur of warmth and indulgence. Fresh bread, steaming coffee, pastries dusted with sugar. Hunter talked easily, animated in a way that he hadn't been for months. Touching my hand, almost too often. Smiling like he was in on a secret.
I told myself that the tightness in my chest was excitement.
After, as snow began falling heavier outside, he stopped me in the hallway outside our room.
"Go get ready," he said, grinning. "I've got something planned."
I raised an eyebrow. "Something like...lunch? Or something like something?"
Hunter laughed, but it came a moment too late. His gaze drifted slightly. "Just...trust me."
Trust. There it was again.
That fickle little word that seemed to worm its way back into my life, time and time again. Even when people didn't deserve it. That word had been thrown at me over and over. People had always told me to trust them but had never shown me reasons to do so.
That's not Hunter, I told myself. No, Hunter had given me reasons to trust him. He'd shown me his love time and time again. Diamond earrings, expensive holidays, a new car. He'd never broken his word to me...only extended the time period of his promises.
"I booked you a spa appointment," he added quickly. "Full package. Massage, soak, the works. You deserve it."
I hesitated. "Are you not coming?"
"Not this one." He hesitated. "I need to...take care of a few things."
That should've been nothing. Harmless. Generous, even. What woman wouldn't kill for a few hours of alone time? But something in the way he spoke and avoided my eyes caught my attention.
"Okay," I said slowly. "If you're sure."
"Good." Relief flashed across his face. "Be ready by six."
He kissed me once. Quick. Distracted. Then, he was gone.
The spa was carved practically into the mountain itself, stone, and steam and candlelight. It should have been blissful. The massage therapist's hands were skilled and firm, working tension from muscles I hadn't realized were tight.
But I couldn't relax.
Snow fell harder as the day wore on, thick and dominating. The windows fogged with heat, turning the outside world into nothing but an endless, white abyss. The staff spoke in hushed tones, glancing towards the doors. A sense of waiting hung in the air.
When I returned to my room, dusk had already begun to settle. The storm showed no sign of breaking.
I dressed carefully. Too carefully.
The pretty black dress I'd packed "just in case." The simple necklace I'd worn to every major milestone of my adult life. I told myself I was ridiculous for thinking this could be it.
My phone buzzed again.
Almost ready.
I smiled despite myself.
Then another message came through, this one not meant for me.
Is she distracted?
We don't have much time.
My stomach dropped.
I stared at the screen, heart thudding. Adrenaline coursed through my veins. The message vanished a second later, replaced by nothing but the lock screen.
When he knocked, I was already braced.
"You look incredible," Hunter breathed, eyes sweeping over me like he was assessing something. Like he was ticking a box.
"Thanks," I replied, watching him closely.
Dinner was set in a private alcove overlooking the valley blanketed in white. Candles flickered. Wine Flowed. He talked. About work, about the lodge, about how perfect everything was, without actually saying anything meaningful at all.
His phone buzzed again, for the tenth time. He kept it face-down. Kept glancing when he thought I wasn't looking.
I followed his gaze, deliberately this time. Lifting my own glass, I held his gaze over the rim. "Busy night?"
Hunter smiled, quick and practiced. The true face of a hot-shot lawyer. "Always. You know how it is."
"I do," I replied mildly. "I am a lawyer too."
He laughed, a little too loudly, as if I'd made a joke. "Right. Of course."
He leaned back in his chair, stretching his arm along the back of it in a casual display that felt almost performative. He should have been an actor. "God, I need this though. A break. No courts. No reporters. Just us."
Us. The words landed oddly.
I glanced around the alcove. The candles cast long shadows across the walls, the light caught on carved symbols worked into the beams overhead. They were beautiful in a strange way. Too deliberate to be decorative.
"They really went all in on the atmosphere," I said. "It feels...odd."
Hunter followed my gaze upward, then shrugged. "That's the appeal isn't it? History. Character." He took another sip of wine. "Way better than some hotel chain."
"Do you know how old it is?" I asked.
"No idea." He waved a hand absently. "Centuries, maybe. I didn't ask."
Something about that bothered me more than it should have.
The waiter arrived with our main course, moving with the same uncanny quiet as the rest of the staff I'd seen so far. He set the plates down without meeting my eyes.
"Everything to your liking?" He asked Hunter.
"Yes," Hunter replied smoothly. "Perfect. Right, darling?"
I didn't reply. The waiter nodded once and disappeared.
I waited until he was gone. "You didn't even taste it yet."
He smirked. "I have faith."
Another familiar word.
I cut inot my food, appetite dulled. "You've been very...secretive lately."
His fork paused mid-air. Just for a second.
"Have I?"
"Yes," I said. "You have."
He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Well, I wanted this trip to feel special."
"It does." I chose my words carefully, my lawyer brain in full effect. "But special doesn't usually come with disappearing acts and mystery phone calls."
He sighed, setting his fork down as if he were indulging a child. "Charlie, you're overthinking."
Ah. There it was. The dismissal.
"I don't think I am."
Another buzz from his phone. He checked it, then flipped it down with more force than necessary.
"I promise," he said, leaning forward, voice soft and intimate. "Everything is under control."
"Is it?"
He hesitated. Just for a fraction. "Relax. Tonight is about us."
Outside, the wind howled. Snow slammed against the glass almost hard enough to make it rattle. Thick flakes streaked the windows in chaotic spirals. The storm had now erased the world beyond us entirely. There was no road, no horizon. Just white, the dark of night, and the sense of being sealed in.
I swallowed. "The storm's getting worse."
"Good," Hunter said. "Means we won't be interrupted."
That wasn't comforting.
I watched him as he ate, the way his attention kept being pulled somewhere else. The way he checked his watch. The way he seemed more invested in timing than in me.
I took a slow sip of wine, unease curling in my gut. The candlelight was too warm, the smiles too easy. The whole evening had been arranged with a precision that felt rehearsed. Every detail had been chosen, every moment curated, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being steered away from something.
Romance, I realized, could be a very effective distraction. Flowers, firelight, surprises. They were all soft things meant to keep you grateful, compliant, looking in the wrong direction. I'd spent years reading contracts for a living, learned to spot what wasn't said as much as what was. And right now, there are too many omissions. Too many half-glances at his phone. Too many silences padded with charm.
I set my glass down, my pulse ticking louder than the storm.
What was he trying to keep me from seeing?
"You're quiet," he said suddenly.
"I'm thinking."
"About?"
I met his eyes again. "About whether this is what you think romance looks like."
Annoyance flashed across his face. Or perhaps calculation.
He reached across the table and took my hand, squeezing once. "Charlie." He said it with such indignation. "Don't do this."
"Do what?"
"Analyze everything to death. Turn your lawyer brain off for a moment." He smiled, like was trying to be affectionate. "Just enjoy the moment."
I looked down at our joined hands. At how his grip felt firmer than it needed to be.
Outside, the storm howled louder.
For the first time all evening, I understood with a cold clarity that whatever he was hiding wasn't just about a ring.
It was about control.
- Writer
