It was late by the time they said their goodbyes, and Cass was exhausted—but in a good way. It had been a perfect day, from start to finish.

Cass and Miguel stood in the driveway, between their cars. Ro and Anna had taken the twins home—they had fallen asleep, exhausted and waterlogged, before they were even buckled into their car seats. Jacintha and Lila were still inside, emptying the dishwasher. “I think my parents are watching us out the window,” Miguel said, chuckling. “I’m sorry—I hope this wasn’t overwhelming for you.”

“Not at all,” Cass said. “I loved every second of it. I could do this every Sunday.” Her voice broke and she hoped Miguel hadn’t noticed. But of course he had. He was Miguel. He noticed everything about her.

He stepped closer. “Hey, what’s wrong? You look so sad all of a sudden.”

“I’m just”—Cass swallowed hard over the lump in her throat. She shook her head. “I think I’m just tired. Honestly, I had a great night. It’s just . . .” She didn’t know how to finish the sentence, but Miguel finished it for her.

“It’s just a lot for you right now. I should have realized that. You keep telling me you’re fine, but injuries like yours take time. And this was a long day.”

“I wouldn’t trade any of it for the world,” Cass said. “But, I really should get going. Early call time tomorrow.”

“Of course,” Miguel said, then glanced at the front window of the house. “Good—they’re gone.” He leaned in and kissed her, slowly and sweetly. And for a moment at least, Cass felt all the sadness and anxiety drain from her body.

He stood on the driveway and lifted his hand as she pulled away; she lifted hers in return. On the radio, “2000 Miles” by the Pretenders was playing, and Cass knew that by the time Christmas day arrived, the distance between her and Miguel would be insurmountable.

14

Charlie

Sunday: 6 Days Until Christmas . . .

Starlight Peak

Staring up into the blue sky above her, Charlie felt immensely confused. A moment earlier she had paused at the trailhead marker, which showed the different hiking options on the Peak. Thanks to the early hour and the overnight snowfall, which made the evergreens look as though they were coated with icing sugar, her boot prints were the first on the trail. It had been a long time since Charlie had hiked Starlight Peak, particularly in the winter, and it only took fifty feet or so for her to realize she was overdressed.

So while she’d contemplated her route, she’d removed her coat and wrapped it around her waist, adjusting her sunglasses on top of her wool beanie as she considered which way to go. Straight up, she’d decided, because she was a touch short on time and needed to be back for the bakery’s opening.

But a second later all the air left her lungs in a whoosh as she was catapulted backward. Dazed and confused, the wind knocked out of her, she lay flat on her back in the deep snow, trying to figure out exactly what had happened. Her wool beanie had flown off her head, along with her sunglasses, and the snow was cold against her neck and scalp. Her chest constricted as she tried to take in a deep breath, and she gasped like a fish out of water.