I know honesty is the best policy, but I’m thinking reinforcements never hurt. I’m hoping Baxter’s cuddly, lovable face will help persuade Chloe to give me another chance.

* * *

After a six-hour flight, Baxter and I land at Eagle-Vail airport. A forty-minute drive takes us to Lionshead Village at the base of Vail. The two whiskeys I had to get me through the plane ride have worn off, leaving me with a dull ache in my head. Baxter nudges at my hand.

“Don’t worry, buddy. We’ll get her back.” I’m staying strong for Baxter. I have no idea what Chloe will say when she sees us.

My late flight time means I’ve missed most if not all of the ceremony.

I guide Baxter as I follow the signs indicating Lauren and Jeff’s wedding until they lead me to the base of the mountain.

“I need to get to Lauren and Jeff’s wedding,” I tell the guy leaning against the small operation booth.

“You’re in the right place.” He nods.

“Great. Where is it?” I ask.

He points his finger upwards. “Up top.”

For the first time I look up at the mountainside in front of me. It’s late July, so the only snow visible is at the top peak. The rest of the mountain is covered in grass and rocks. The ski runs can only be defined by the pine trees gathered on each side of the trail. There’s a dirt path that mountain bikers are currently traversing down.

“What?” I pull my attention from the mountain to look back at the man.

“That’s where the best views are.”

Of course, they are.

“How am I supposed to get there?”

He motions behind me. “Chair lift will take you.”

I watch the chairs swing from the belt as they move up the mountain. There’s no window to shut. Only open air and a thirty-foot drop. My stomach immediately twists, and my palms start to sweat. I can feel the fear taking over. I shake my head. No fucking way.

Beside me, Baxter watches the chairs moving, his tail wagging with excitement. I can tell he’s dying to go for a ride.

“They’re coming down, right?” I ask. I can always wait to talk to Chloe after the ceremony.

He looks at his clipboard. “Reception goes until eleven thirty.”

I glance at my watch. It’s seven. Fucking hell. I’m going to have to ride this chair lift if I want to see Chloe. Or wait four hours.

I watch a young family board the lift. Surely those parents wouldn’t be taking their children on that if it were a death trap. The logic is there, but where heights are concerned, my brain doesn’t do logic.