After getting the yard work done, I came in with my dad for lunch. On my plate was a present wrapped in Christmas paper. “What’s this?”

My dad pulled out my chair. “It’s your Christmas present.” He nodded at my mom. “You tell her.”

I slid onto my seat and waited for my parents to sit. Christmas was a hard time for us. My parents had loved Christmas as much as Natalie and me and had always made it a special time for us with lots of family traditions. The first Christmas after Natalie had died, we couldn’t bear to stay home and had gone to a beach in Florida where it was warm and hadn’t felt at all like Christmas.

We’d continued doing that, but this year I wouldn’t be with them. Because we no longer celebrated Christmas, I had been able to book my flight to leave the day after Autumn’s wedding without feeling guilty for not being here for the holidays. My parents were leaving for Florida the week before Christmas.

My mother leaned her elbows on the table and folded her hands in front of her. “Open it first, and then I’ll explain.”

I eased a finger under the tape. I was one of those people who opened gifts carefully so I could save the bows and wrapping paper. Natalie would always tear into her packages with impatience, eager to see what was inside. Halfway through getting my present open, I paused, smiled, and then tore into it the way Natalie would have.

“That was so Natalie just then,” my dad softly said.

When I glanced up at my parents, both had smiles on their faces and tears in their eyes. I blinked against the stinging in mine. I opened the box, and inside was a white envelope. Inside that was a check. I pulled it out, looked at the amount, and gasped.

“I can’t take this.” I waved the check for ten thousand dollars in the air. “This is too much.”

“Yes, you can, honey.” My mother cleared her throat. “We’d planned to give each of you five thousand dollars toward your world tour, and we still want to do that. Half of that is for you and half for Natalie. You’ll just be spending it for her now.”

I burst into tears. My parents pushed their chairs away and came around the table, pulling me into their embrace. From the day Natalie had been diagnosed with a grade IV brain tumor—one her specialist had likened to a runaway freight train with no hope of stopping it—bone-deep sadness had permeated our home. She’d been given eight months to live, but she’d managed to last for eleven. Those extra three months had been a wonderful gift.

Because I was her identical twin, my parents had insisted I get tested nine ways to Sunday to make sure I was okay. I was, but the realization that life was fragile and could be stolen away at any moment had only made me more determined to follow my dream, mine and Natalie’s. I was doing it as much for her as for myself.

“I’m blessed to have you both as my parents,” I said through my tears.

My dad rested his chin on my head. “We were the ones blessed to have you and Natalie as our daughters, sweetheart.”

I gave a broken laugh. “Can’t argue with that.” We hugged once more and then returned to our seats. “Remember when Natalie was mad because I got chosen to spend the day with you, Daddy, on take-your-daughter-to-work day?”

He grinned. “Yeah, I flipped a coin and you won. I told her that the next year, it would be her turn.”

“Oh, I was so angry with her for what she did,” my mom said.

“You were?” I snorted. “I’m the one she pretended to be for my English test and purposely failed it.” I’d been so tempted to tell my seventh-grade teacher that I’d been with my daddy, and that it had been Natalie taking the test, but then she would have been in even more trouble.

My mom, my dad, and I laughed, and it felt really good. We reminisced some more as we ate lunch, and then we ended the day sitting on the sofa together, paging through the family album, something we hadn’t done since Natalie died. It would have hurt too much, but today, the remembering was healing.

And soon I would stand on a distant shore and feel her with me again like she’d promised.

“Nice place,” I said Tuesday night after walking into Dylan’s apartment. “Autumn’s fiancé lived here before he moved in with her.”

“It will do until I build my log house. If I’m still here next year.”

“If you’re still here?” I followed him into his kitchen. The living room area and kitchen was a great room with tall windows that looked out over a gorgeous mountain view. There was a fireplace against one wall, and I could imagine curling up on his leather sofa, a fire burning, sipping a glass of wine while watching the snow fall.

“My contract’s for one year. If they’re happy with me, they’ll extend it. If not, they won’t. Red wine or a beer?”

“I think wine tonight.” I scooted onto a stool at the granite-topped island. It would be awesome to live in a place like this, but I was saving my pennies. My apartment was a tiny one-bedroom, the cheapest I could find that I was willing to live in. No view, no fireplace, no cathedral ceilings.

“So you have to prove yourself? I didn’t know that’s how it worked.”

He kicked off his shoes, pushing them against the wall with his foot, then pulled the white button-down shirt out of his jeans. Why I found that totally sexy, I don’t know. Taking my cue from him, I slipped off my sandals.

“For the first year. If they offer to renew my contract, it will be for five years at a time.” He grabbed the bottle of wine in one hand and two wineglasses in the other. “Let’s sit on the balcony.”

“I envy you your balcony,” I said. “And your view.”

“It is nice, isn’t it?” He poured wine into each of our glasses, then handed me one. “My view in Chicago was of the Sears Tower, and I didn’t have a balcony. I’m enjoying this one.”

He seemed subdued tonight, and I wondered if he was missing the city or maybe his friends. What if he had a girlfriend? But would he take off and leave if he did? And I didn’t see him as the kind of man who would mess around on a girlfriend.

“What made you decide to leave Chicago?” The silence stretched as I waited for him to answer, making me wonder if he was going to tell me. It was a simple question, or at least I’d thought so.

“My wife died. I decided it was time for a change of scenery,” he finally said.

His voice was flat, his gaze on the mountains rising up on the other side of the valley. I waited for him to say more, but when he didn’t, I let it go even though I was really curious. How long ago had she died? Had he loved her, mourned her, cried tears for her? How had she died? Suddenly in a traffic accident or slowly because of some god-awful disease like cancer? I’d lived through Natalie’s suffering and understood that kind of heartbreak. But I didn’t ask any of those questions. It was obvious the subject was closed.

“I’m glad you chose Blue Ridge Valley.”

The hint of a smile appeared on his face. “I’m even happier with my decision after meeting you, Red.”

Well. Okay then, Dylan. Just go and wake up the butterflies nesting in my stomach. We fell into silence again, but it was a comfortable one this time. I sipped my wine, watching Dylan out of the corner of my eye. He seemed to be sloughing off whatever had caused him to be moody.

“Hear that? That was my owl.” He put his feet on the railing, tipping his chair back.

“I love listening to them. There’s one that lives somewhere near my parents’ backyard. I actually saw it once, sitting on a tree stump. He just sat there, staring at me with big, unblinking eyes.”

“Haven’t seen mine yet. Are there certain species of owls that live in the Blue Ridge Mountains?”

“Beats me. We’ll have to google it sometime.”

Dylan set down his empty wineglass, reached over, and rested his hand on my thigh. Mercy, I loved it when he touched me. He made me tingly whenever he did.

“I’m sorry for my shitty mood. I have a lot of things on my mind, but I’m better now that you’re here.”

I put my hand on top of his, giving him a smile. “I aim to please.”

“Trust me, Red, you please. Getting hungry?”

For you? God yes. “I could eat.”

“How good are you at making a salad?”

“I’m a master salad maker.”

“We’ll leave the rest of the wine and glasses here for later.” He stood, pulling me up with him, then tugged me against his body. “First, I need a kiss.”

I lifted onto my toes and put my mouth on his. He groaned as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me tighter against him. Our noses bumped, and he chuckled, angling his head as he took possession of my mouth. His kisses were lethal, setting my body on fire, making me ache for him. He devoured my mouth, possessing me like no man ever had. It was entirely possible I’d never kiss another man again because after Dylan, why bother? I put my hand on his chest, felt his heart pounding against my palm, and my own heart thumped hard, answering his.

“Dinner,” he gasped, pulling away. “I promised to feed you.”

“Okay.” His kiss had stupefied my brain to mush, and that one word was about all I was capable of. The man did love to kiss. He took my hand, leading me to the kitchen, which gave me time to recover from the hottest kiss on record. I was also worried. I liked him too much. That was a problem because I didn’t want to take off on my world tour, my heart missing a man, any man.