She grabbed her warmest cardigan, layering it over her sweater before pulling on her coat, hat, and gloves. Truthfully, she hadn’t really walked around in snow like this before—not without skis and ski boots, at any rate. When they got outside, a blowing, wet wind, almost blinding, met them, and they both laughed.

“This might be a really bad idea,” Stuart shouted.

“You think?”

“Maybe you should stay over at my place.”

“Okay!”

“You need to grab anything?”

She always kept an extra toothbrush in her purse, and she could sleep in something of Stuart’s, so she shook her head as vigorously as she could to be visible in the blowing snow.

“I’m good. Let’s get going.”

The walk to his place seemed interminable, though in reality, it took them all of ten minutes. With the snowy wind gusting in their faces, frigid and occasionally painfully sharp, she was nearly blind the entire way. She walked behind Stuart, hand on his shoulder, arctic style. By the time they stumbled into his little one-bedroom apartment, they were both soaking wet, red-nosed and shivering.

“Yikes!” he said. “I’m glad you’re staying here.”

“Me, too.”

She let him take her wet jacket and hat and then removed her soaking socks and boots, feeling a little better with all the wet things gone. He handed her a crocheted blanket and steered her to the little loveseat under an enormous portrait window before disappearing into the bedroom. Beside the loveseat were an armchair and ottoman and a small coffee table, but little else in the room. Overall, the space was very small and sparely decorated, reminding her strongly of Stuart’s many micro apartments in New York.

When he came back in a couple of minutes later, he’d changed his clothes entirely, and he held out a pair of wool socks for her. She took them gratefully, pulling them over her clammy feet. He cranked up the thermostat before sitting down next to her. A bottle of red wine was breathing on the table, which he pointed at. She nodded, and he gave them both a significant pour.

“Well, that was terrible,” he finally said.

She laughed. “Basically.”

“I’m sorry. I guess we should have done this another night.”

She waved him off. “It’s fine. I’m here now.”

“What do you think of the place?” he asked, gesturing at the room.

She sipped her wine again before answering. “It’s…cute.”

He laughed. “I bet you’re thinking—why the hell did he move halfway across the country only to live in another tiny apartment?”

“You said it, not me.”

“It’s an artist’s residence. I get a discount on the place, actually—it’s almost free.”