“Zac—”

Her phone rang, giving her the excuse she needed to move away and distance herself.

It was Christy.

“How are you? Have you and Zac killed each other yet?”

“No, although we’ve come close.” She turned her back on Zac so she couldn’t see his expression and he couldn’t see hers. There was something about the intimacy of this cabin that was making her feel tense. “How are you doing there?”

She only half listened as Christy told her that they were now in London, in preparation for Seb’s work meeting.

Normally she would have asked about it, but she was no longer sure what to say and what not to say. Their friendship, once so familiar, now felt like a foreign country. She didn’t know the language, and she didn’t have a map.

She desperately wanted to fix it, but a long-distance phone call wasn’t the time to talk about deep and difficult issues. That had to be done face-to-face, so instead of saying everything in her mind, she gave a factual account of the morning’s activities and promised to send some photos from her phone.

Zac was on his hands and knees on the floor, and she was starting to wonder what he was doing when he flicked a switch. Holly clapped her hands as the tree lit up, the tiny bulbs illuminating the branches.

It was the most beautiful tree she’d ever seen, like something straight out of a fairy tale or a magical children’s story, the tree every child would draw when they were attempting to capture their perfect Christmas.

The sentimental thought alarmed her. She wasn’t a sentimental person, so where had that come from?

What was wrong with her?

While Zac removed pine needles from his sweater, Alix handed Holly the phone.

Only half listening as Holly babbled all the details of her day to Christy, Alix cleared up the clothing that they’d stripped off inside the door, hopeful that mundane tasks would cure her of fanciful thoughts, but everything seemed to conspire against her. Not just Zac, but the cabin and the forest itself. The fire glowed and flickered behind the protective glass, warming the air and the atmosphere. Beyond the windows the snow glistened as if someone had scattered silver and diamonds on the surface.

She hung up Holly’s coat carefully so it would dry.

“It’s no wonder Robyn chose not to leave this place. Photographer’s paradise.” She was proud of how normal she sounded. How neutral the topic of conversation.

It was a pretty place, she reasoned. Even the least poetic of individuals would find it hard not to fall under the wintery spell of Lapland. Its appeal was undeniable. That was probably what was wrong with her. She was falling in love with the place.

Or maybe it was Christmas itself that was unsettling her as it usually did. Not in a big way, but it was true that at this time of year she had to work a little harder to keep her emotions in check.