Page 36

I put the SUV back in gear. Gravel pops under the tires.

It’s been twenty-eight days since I signed a legal document making Noelle Hines my wife. Twenty-four days since she moved into my house. Twenty-one days since I heard her voice for the first time. And approximately ten minutes since I last looked at the photograph of her and Shiloh asleep together on my couch.

Not that I’ve been keeping track.

I drive past another glowing candy cane. Then another.

The house comes into view around the bend. I hit the brakes again. This time I have a better reason. My house is lit up like a fucking Christmas village.

Not in a tacky way, which is almost more annoying.

Warm white lights trace the roofline, wreaths hang from every downstairs window, garland wraps around the stone columns at the front of the house, tied with enormous red bows.

There are small evergreen trees in pots on either side of the front steps, more lights, more bows, and in the center of the circular drive, the fountain I had turned off for winter has somehow been transformed into a...

Reindeer?

There are light-up reindeer standing in my fountain. Three of them. One has its head bent toward the empty basin like it’s trying to get a drink.

I reach for my phone again.

This time I do text her.

Me: Noelle?

Three dots appear immediately.

Noelle: Maverick?

Me: Why are there reindeer in my fountain?

A pause.

Noelle: Welcome home.

I stare at the screen.

Me: That didn’t answer my question.

Noelle: I know.

I should be irritated.

I am irritated. Probably. My mouth does something that feels almost like a smile. Dammit.

I park in front of the garage and climb out. Cold mountain air hits me, and so does the silence. It smells like woodsmoke and pine and the snow that’s been threatening all week. At least according to all the weather alerts I’ve been getting on my phone. My breath clouds in front of my face. Somewhere down the ridge, a dog barks twice and goes quiet.

For a moment, I just stand there.

Home.

I’ve been gone almost a month.

And I’ve hated every damn night of them. Maybe because Shiloh is old enough now to understand I’m gone. This is, by far, the longest I’ve been away from him. Maybe because every night I’ve been away, I’ve watched pieces of his life happening without me through the phone screen.

Or maybe it’s because this is the first time I’ve ever come home knowing there’s a wife inside.

No. That’s not true. There was a wife inside once before.