CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Rebecca

Nick and I made love several more times before finally falling asleep in each other’s arms. It was cold in the room when I awoke just after dawn, but huddled together naked under the covers I slept like a cozy bug in a cozy rug.

Nick continued to doze as I eased out of bed and reached for my robe. I stuck my feet into a pair of fuzzy slippers and went to the window to peer out.

The world outside my window was blanketed with a beautiful white layer of snow. I knew the roads would be impassible for a few hours, but this was Snowcap. Snow didn’t slow us down any more than the sun or rain did. Old Carl would have the roads cleared off in no time and I’d have customers wanting beer and burgers by the afternoon. With any luck, Nick would be able to make it to the Overlook Lodge by lunch time to attend what was left of the economic summit.

I crept into the bathroom to pee, then went in the living room to light the heater so the apartment would warm up. I made a pot of coffee and dropped a couple of Pop Tarts in the toaster. I was sitting at the table nibbling on the last Pop Tart when Nick stumbled out of the bedroom wrapped only in a quilt.

“Good morning, your highness,” I said with a smile as he leaned down to kiss my cheek. “There’s coffee in the pot and I’ll share my Pop Tart with you. Did you sleep well?”

“I did,” he said with a yawn. He clutched the blanket around his shoulders as he filled a cup with coffee and carried it to the table. He slid into the chair across from me and frowned at the Pop Tart in my hand.

“What is a Pop Tart?” he asked.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” I said, holding it out so he could take a bite. “It’s just the best breakfast pastry ever.”

“I’m not sure about that,” he said, making a face. “I believe the croissants at the Café De La Rue in Paris might be just a tad better.”

“Such a snob,” I said, grinning as I ate the rest of the Pop Tart. I nodded at the window. “The storm’s over. Carl will have the roads cleared my noon.”

“Ah, very good,” he said. He brought the cup to his lips and took a noisy slurp. “So, I can make it to the summit this afternoon, then come back here tomorrow night, and we can leave for Kosnovia on Monday.”

I blinked at him for a moment as the Pop Tart threatened to come back up. I licked the crumbs off my lips and said, “Leave for Kosnovia?’

“Yes, of course,” he said with a happy smile. “You can pack while I’m at the summit. Take only what you don’t want to leave behind because I will buy you anything you need once we are home.”

“Home?”

“Yes, in Kosnovia. I’ll call the travel office and have them book two first class tickets to Kosnovia for Monday afternoon.” He noticed the frown on my face. He reached out a hand across the table. “What is it?”

“You’re serious?” I said, staring at his hand. “You really are serious?”

His forehead wrinkled over his brown eyes. “Yes, of course. I thought we had decided to marry and have a family. We have to do that in Kosnovia.”

“I thought…”

He pulled back his hand and tucked it inside the blanket. “You thought what?”

I shrugged and rolled my eyes. “I thought we were just like, I don’t know, role playing or something.”

He looked at me as if he didn’t know the meaning of the words. “Role playing?”

“Yes, you know, you’re a handsome prince and I’m the damsel in distress, trapped in this ice palace, you come along to save me…” I gazed into his eyes and realized at that moment that this wasn’t a game to him. This was all very real. Holy. Fucking. Shit.

“I was not role playing, Rebecca,” he said, raising his chin and looking proudly down his nose at me. “I am Nikolay Rostov, crown Prince of Kosnovia.” He paused and tilted his head to the side. “Rebecca, don’t you believe me?”

“Well, I mean, I believe your name is Nick and you sound a little like you come from Russia, but…” I swallowed hard when I noticed the hurt in his eyes. “Oh my god, you really are serious, aren’t you?”

“I am completely serious,” he said sternly. The muscles in his jaws pulsed. “And I thought you were serious, too.”

I threw up my hands and shook my head at him. “My god, Nick, we just met. We haven’t known each other twenty-four hours. Yes, we had great sex and I find you incredibly attractive, and I like you a lot, and maybe someday I might want to marry you and start a family, but not now. I barely know you.”

“We would get to know each other in Kosnovia,” he said. His face was growing red. His Russian accent grew thicker the more upset he got.

“But Nick, I don’t love you.”

The blanket fell off his muscular shoulders when he shrugged. “I don’t love you, either. We will come to love one another. Like my mother and father. And my grandmother and my grandfather. And…”

“I get the idea,” I said, holding up my hands. “Nick, I’m sorry, but I can’t marry you and move to Kosnovia. And I’m certainly not ready to have a child. Not with you or anyone.”

“I see,” he said. He studied the table top between us for a moment. “I will use your shower once more if you don’t mind to wash off the stain of our night together, then get dressed and wait downstairs for the roads to clear.”

“You can wait up here,” I said, a little hurt that he used the word “stain” to refer to the amazing night we’d just spent making love. I gritted my teeth and forced myself not to cry. “It’s cold down there.”

He looked me squarely in the eye and said, “It cannot be as cold as it is up here.”