I waited in the cold cabin while Tolliver worked his way down the ice-slick stairs and began a slow progress across the front yard of our cabin and over to the Hamiltons’ place. I poked the fire and added a log, and then I pulled a chair over to the window and wrapped myself in a blanket.

Half of me was intent on following the light held in Tolliver’s hand, while the other half was standing a little distance apart screaming, “You just slept with Tolliver! You just slept with Tolliver!” in tones of mingled horror and delight. Only time would tell if we’d just (literally) fucked up the best relationship we’d ever had—or if we’d opened the door to greater happiness.

Even thinking that felt sappy. But God, it might all be okay. I snapped out of this incoherent internal babbling to realize that Tolliver was having a hard time getting to the door of the Hamilton house because of the tree branches.

I opened the window, with a lot of effort. One-handed, it was a bitch.

“You need me to come help?” I called. My voice was startling.

I felt Tolliver was restraining himself from saying that was the last thing in the world he needed. “No, thanks,” he called back, with wonderful restraint. Even hearing his voice made me catch my breath. There was something different about it, there was. Some tension that had kept him taut and stretched had snapped. I was as moony and dreamy as a girl who’d had her first French kiss, and I made myself enter the here and now.

The Hamiltons’ door was opening, and I could see Ted Hamilton. He was wearing a hat, which looked ridiculous but actually was pretty smart, considering how much of your body heat you lose through your head. He and Tolliver exchanged a few words, and then Tolliver began making his way back over to our temporary home.

I opened the door when he reached the top of the steps, and he propelled himself inside.

“Oh, God, it’s cold out there,” he said, and he made a beeline to the fire. He piled on a couple more pieces of wood and stood there for a moment, his face as close to the fire as he could get it without actually singeing his mustache. He closed his eyes with the bliss of the warmth.

“Were they okay?”

“Yeah. Mad. Ted said a few words I think he’d been saving up since the Korean War. I was glad I’m not a member of the McGraw-Cotton family. He actually said he was gonna sue.”

“Wonder if he’d have a chance in court.”

Tolliver held out a hand, tipped it one way then another. “I want to say that would be ridiculous, but you know how the justice system can be.”

We fell silent, looked at each other.

“Are you sorry?” he asked.

“No. You?”