It took all of my power and strength to not look at Rafe. “Any leads on that?” I asked as casually as I could. For a brief moment, I desperately wanted to tell Ash about the cabin. To tell him the whole thing was a case of mistaken identity. That Ryan was innocent of everything except trespassing.

“You know I can’t talk about it,” Ash said. “But if I could, I’d say the fact that we still can’t find him makes him look more and more guilty.”

My remorse for keeping information from Ash vanished. When this all shook out, our friendship might suffer, but so be it. No way was I going to give Ryan up to a sheriff’s office that had already figuratively tossed him in jail and thrown away the key.

*   *   *

I was upstairs, changing from dinner’s attire of fleece pants and hoodie into jeans and sweater for Sunday night dessert with Kristen, when my phone dinged with an incoming text.

Kristen: Sorry, but Cooper is messing with me big time tonight. Don’t feel up to any dessert, let alone crème brûlée.

Me (after taking a minute to remember that Cooper was the baby’s new nickname): No worries. You take care of yourself, Mom.

Kristen: I am going to be the world’s worst mother. I can tell.

Minnie: Little late for that, isn’t it?

Kristen: You always know how to cheer me up.

Minnie: Part of my charm. But seriously, can I do anything for you? Rub your feet? Feed you bonbons?

Kristen: Maybe tomorrow. Right now I just want to lie down. See you later.

That was very unlike Kristen. I spent a few minutes worrying, then texted Scruffy, who replied that Kristen was fine, truly, and yes, he’d let me know if I could do anything.

I tried to shake off my concern. This, of course, didn’t work for beans, so I put my sweatpants back on and wandered downstairs to tell Rafe what was going on. He hugged me. “It’ll be fine,” he said. “The Blonde has the strength of ten and the stubbornness of ten thousand. No way will anything bad happen to her or her offspring.”

He gave me a squeezing hug and kissed the top of my head. “And since you’re not going to have a fancy Kristen dessert, you probably need a replacement. Ice cream? Hot chocolate? How about popcorn?”

Soon we were settled on the couch, eating nicely buttered popcorn and watching multiple episodes of Broadchurch, with Eddie somehow flopped across all four human legs, putting twenty toes to sleep. It was a cozy way to spend an evening, and I envisioned many such nights in future winters, snow hurling itself against the windowpanes with the three of us safe inside.

I gave a sigh of contentment and snuggled in close to my beloved.