My big diamond ring sparkles in the dim sunlight as I grip my thigh. Elijah revs the engine and speeds up on the snowy, winding road up to his parents’ cabin. I tighten my grip, one hand on my thigh and the other on the car’s door handle. I close my eyes for an instant as my stomach lurches up to my throat.

Mr. Moose, my French bulldog, whines in the backseat as the car speeds around another bend. I glance back at him and my heart squeezes. He’s shaking, and he looks as terrified as I feel.

“Babe, do you think you could slow down a little? We’re not in any rush.” My voice sounds weak and timid, even to my ears. Trees whip past us in a blur as he angles around another curve. “Moose is scared.”

Instead of answering, he drops his foot down and the car throws me back further into my seat. I take a deep breath, tears gathering in the corners of my eyes.

I hate the way he drives.

I’m not sure if he accelerated on purpose, but it still hurts to be ignored. I cling to the side of the door and take deep breaths as the car swings me from one side to the other.

“Elijah—”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“I know, babe, it’s just…”

“What?” We make another turn and I’m flung the other way. I take a deep breath, trying to calm the hammering of my heart. I open one eye, glancing out the window at the sheer cliff face to our right. One split second decision could send us hurling down that valley.

I can’t think like that.

“I would just really prefer it if we slowed down. I want to enjoy the view.”

Elijah’s face hardens as his lips form a thin line. His hands tighten on the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. The tension ripples through his forearms as he keeps up the breakneck speed through the forest road.

“It was your decision to bring Moose. If we’d have left him at the kennel like I said, he wouldn’t be scared right now.”

But I would be.

I take a deep breath, blinking away the tears. Music is blaring on the radio, and it only makes my heart rate speed up.

We make another turn, and a big eighteen-wheeler truck appears in front of us. I know Elijah will want to overtake the truck, even on a snowy, winding forest road. I close my eyes and grit my teeth. I can feel the car inching towards the left, and Elijah leans his body over to look past the truck.

We’re going to overtake it. I know we are. It’s a double yellow line, with low visibility and a dangerous road, but I can feel Elijah’s movements beside me.

I can’t say anything. Look what happened last time I spoke up! He stepped on the gas and sped up. We get closer to the truck and I steal a glance over at my fiancé. His eyes are glued on the road. We inch over the center line and I close my eyes.

He presses on the accelerator and I make a silent prayer.

I don’t want to die.

Not like this.

Not out of control, speeding down a road in dangerous conditions. Not with my dog terrified in the backseat. I grind my teeth together until I feel the car lurch back towards the right, breathing heavily.

Elijah lets out a loud whoop and then looks over at me. He’s grinning from ear to ear.

“What do you think about that?”

I just grimace in response. I can’t manage a smile right now.

By the time we get to his parents’ cabin in upstate New York, I feel like I want to kiss the ground. I stumble out of the car and stretch my neck, keeping my back to Elijah as I wipe the last tears from my eyes. I turn to the back door of the car and open it up. Mr. Moose leaps into my arms and I rub his head. He’s shaking like a leaf, and the anger in my stomach swells.

The front doors fling open and Elijah’s mother walks out with wide open arms.

I’ll talk to him about the driving tonight when we’re alone. For now, I need to put on my best ‘with the in-laws’ personality.

So, I just plaster a smile on my face and turn to Mrs. Matthews. She’s beaming.

“Elijah! Honey! And Farrah! Come in, come in,” she says, waving us forward. “Don’t worry about the bags, Gerard will get those for us. Gerard!” She turns around and calls out into the hallway. An older gentleman in a crisp suit appears.

He nods to Mrs. Matthews and heads towards the car.

I take a deep breath as Elijah comes around the car towards me. He snakes his arm around my back and kisses my temple.

“You didn’t tell me you guys had a butler,” I whisper to him.

“He’s a concierge. Come on, let’s go inside.”

I nod, forcing a smile on my face. I clench my fists to stop my hands from shaking, drawing comfort from my dog’s warmth. He’s not trembling so hard anymore. Elijah rubs my lower back and kisses my temple again.

How can he be so tender now after being so inconsiderate in the car? Is it just because his mother is here?

I shake off the thought and follow him towards the cabin.

Well, cabin is probably the wrong word for it. More like forest-themed mansion. The massive building is made of huge logs stacked on top of each other. It’s perched on a hill, surrounded by lush pine forests on three sides. There are huge bay windows reaching up to an A-line roof, and I can see the same windows all the way through the great room on the other side. The view of Lake Ontario through the house looks incredible.

The ‘cabin’ is about three times bigger than our place in Hoboken, New Jersey, which is saying a lot. Well—bigger than Elijah’s place. He’s the one on the NFL quarterback’s salary and the big mansion and gleaming cars.

I’m a financial manager for a big construction company, so I do alright for myself. Realistically, though, Elijah’s salary could support us both many times over.

Mrs. Matthews is waiting for us in the foyer. I put Moose down as he goes to greet Elijah’s mother. He sniffs her curiously as she scratches his ear, and I breathe a sigh of relief. At least she seems to like dogs more than Elijah does. We kick off our boots and shed our layers of winter clothes before Mrs. Matthews wraps us both in big hugs.

I’m always surprised by the strength of her embrace. For such a slender woman, she’s very strong. She waves us forward, all the while babbling about the weather and the drive and the problems they’ve had with the gas supply.

“The drive was fine,” Elijah said. “Made it here in just under three hours.”

“Under three hours!” Mrs. Matthews says, turning around and looking at us, wide-eyed. “Goodness, that’s fast.”

“Yes,” I agree, stealing a glance at Elijah. He ignores me.

We make our way down a short hallway until we get to the huge, L-shaped kitchen, living, and dining area. The roof is at least three stories high, with huge exposed beams and rafters that give the whole place a chic, rustic feel. It seems wrong to describe this palace as ‘rustic’, but I can tell that’s the look they’re going for.

Mrs. Matthews hands me a mug of mulled wine with a smile. I wrap my fingers around the warm mug and inhale deeply.

“Smells incredible,” I say with a smile. She must have forgotten that I don’t drink, but I don’t want to be rude. “Did you make it yourself, Mrs. Matthews?”

She just laughs, and then nods to the grey-haired woman who enters through a swinging door. “Maria made it all,” Mrs. Matthews says. “She’s an angel. And please, for the last time, call me Shannon!”

“Sorry,” I smile. “Shannon.”

Maria places a huge tray down on the carved wood dining table. She’s in her sixties, I think, and has a no-nonsense look about her. She looks at me straight in the eye and then gives me a once-over with laser-sharp eyes. I stand a bit straighter. Then, she nods to the tray of food. It’s laden with hot appetizers and dips and an assortment of veggies. She nods to us and ducks back through the swinging doors.

I feel like I’ve entered an alternate universe. This is so different from Christmas at my family’s place that it doesn’t even feel like the same world.

The thought almost makes me laugh. Here, no one is belligerent, no one is crying. There isn’t the smell of whiskey on anyone’s breath. It’s… pleasant.

My belly rumbles and I walk over to Maria’s food. I choose a carrot stick and a mini quiche, and sit down beside Elijah on the couch. I listen as he and his mother talk about everything and nothing. My gaze drifts out towards the windows. They’re frosted at the edges, giving the impression of a wintry frame. It makes the dark, stormy water look even colder than it already does.

I shiver involuntarily, bringing my mug of mulled wine up to my nose to warm me up.

“So where’s Dad?” Elijah asks, throwing a mini spring roll in his mouth.

“Oh, he and Jesse are out chopping some wood for the fire. They should be back any minute.”

“Should Dad be chopping wood? Couldn’t that throw out his back again?”

Shannon waves a hand, sitting down across from us and smoothing her pants down over her thighs. “You know how your father is. And speak of the devil! Here’s Bruce!” She exclaims as the French doors open. A cold draft of air blows into the living room as Elijah’s father appears.

He’s wrapped up from head to toe in thick, wooly clothing. Only his eyes are visible, and he’s leaning on a black cane. I can spot a wagon-full of freshly-chopped wood behind him. He rests the cane against the wall and turns towards us.

“Brr!” He says, looking over at us and pulling his wool scarf down. “Chilly out there!”

“Storm’s coming,” Shannon agrees. Bruce pulls the little wagon of wood through the door. Elijah and I jump up to help stack it near the living room fireplace.

“Where’s Jesse?” Elijah asks, hauling half a dozen logs across the room. I grab two and follow his footsteps towards the huge stone fireplace.

“He went for a shower to wash up after all the chopping. He did most of it,” Bruce laughs. “I’m not the man I used to be.”

He kicks off his boots and helps us with the firewood. I follow Elijah towards the other end of the room, holding my small load of logs. Once he’s stacked his, he turns towards me and grabs the wood out of my arms.

I yelp as a sharp, needling pain goes through my palm. Elijah must have pulled the wood away a bit too forcefully, because a splinter of wood buries itself into my hand. I pull my palm away, inhaling sharply and cradling my hand. Moose lets out a small bark and comes trotting up towards me, placing his front paws on my legs and staring up at me.

“What’s wrong?” Elijah says, frowning at me. He stacks the logs neatly next to the hearth and turns towards me, placing his hands on his hips.

I grit my teeth, opening my palm towards him. It hurts to stretch my fingers. A huge, inch-long splinter is visible under my skin.

“Splinter.”

Elijah frowns. Bruce appears next to me and starts stacking his logs. “What’s going on?”

“I got a bit of a splinter,” I explain. “Have you guys got tweezers?”

“Oh you poor dear,” Shannon exclaims, appearing beside me. They all crowd around my hand. “We have a first aid kit in the pool house out back, otherwise I can run upstairs and get my tweezers.”

Elijah brushes past me to get some more firewood from the stack near the French doors. I watch him walk away from me and my chest stings.

I know my splinter is just a minor injury and his mother is taking care of me. Still, watching my fiancé walk away as if he doesn’t care hurts more than the shard of wood in my palm.

I force a smile. “Where’s the pool house? I can just run out and get the first aid kit.”

“Oh, I’ll help you,” Shannon says, leading me back towards the French doors. “Put these boots on, they’ll fit you,” she says, shoving furry boots towards me.

Maria appears in the doorway. “Mrs. Matthews,” she says. “You’re needed in the kitchen.”

Shannon turns towards me and I smile. “Go ahead,” I say. “Is that the pool house over there?” I point to the big building in the backyard.

“That’s the one. The first aid kit is just under the sink in the kitchen.”

“Thanks.”

Elijah is beside me, loading up his arms with firewood. He glances at me and nods, then walks back towards the fireplace.

Guess he’s not going to help me. I brace myself against the cold and open the doors, and then sprint towards the building across the lawn.