Teagan looked up from her monitor. Outside, snow fell again, and the nearby buildings, trees, and even the streets were covered in a thick blanket of white. Typical March—heavier snows than they got during the winter months, but the water would soak into the ground and prepare it for the arrival of green grass and spring bulbs.

It was spring break and Teagan was free from teaching that week. Which was exactly what she needed. The week before the break, she’d listened to far too many students whine about taking their midterm exam just before spring break, when they’d hoped to leave town early. Yet, if she’d scheduled the midterm after the break, they’d whine about having to study during their time off.

Only a couple of months until summer, she told herself. She’d have to teach in the fall again—her book sales hadn’t improved one bit—but at least she’d have the summer to write and spend time in the mountains.

That week, while her students were off snowboarding or getting high in their apartments, she’d been buried in her place, finishing her novel, the one inspired by her experiences in the desert. She’d made the changes she and Hannah had talked about at the New Year. She loved the story, but wasn’t sure how it would take. That’s what beta readers were for. She hesitated a moment before sending the file off to her betas, her heart beating rapidly. She warned them that this one was different from her others. She asked them to tell her the hard truth. In the end, they would either like it or they wouldn’t. If not, she’d take a couple steps back and revise it.

After putting on her UGG boots and down coat, Teagan went out for some dinner. She didn’t eat out much these days, not with her pathetic financial situation, but finishing up a new book warranted at least a burrito and a drink at Tio’s. As she walked down the sidewalk, her UGGs made patterned tracks in the thick snow that had accumulated despite someone’s efforts to shovel. A truck passed her on the street… a white Chevy truck. Without thinking, Teagan watched it, glancing at its license plate. Then, embarrassed, she forced herself to look away.

She still noticed them. Big white trucks, like the one Aaron drove. She’d never noticed them before, not until she met him. Now, they seemed to be everywhere—Ford F150s, Dodge Rams, Chevy Silverados. Big manly vehicles driven by manly men doing manly things. Just like Aaron.

Teagan stopped at Tio’s, kicking off the excess snow from her boots before going inside. She waited in the long line and ordered a big chicken burrito smothered in green chili and sour cream, and a large margarita. She found a stool at the little bar against the window, not wanting to hog a booth or table where two people could sit.

Ben had hounded her about getting back online, about dating again. She’d taken his suggestion and quickly received her initial slew of messages, more than last time she’d dated online. It was her hair; she’d changed it back to her natural blonde after years with various bright shades. Some men dug the bright shades, but most preferred hair that looked like other women’s. She’d never cared what men thought about her hair, but maybe it was time for a change. And her mother certainly liked her natural color much better.

Her attempts at reentering the dating pool had been less than successful. There were the flaky communicators who disappeared and then re-emerged weeks later with a flirtatious hello, as if no time had passed. There were the guys who told her she was hot and beautiful, but never mentioned her hiking pics or book preferences. There were the men over 50 hounding her, ignoring her clearly-stated age preferences and the fact that she had no desire to date men who looked old enough to be her father.

In that sea of doom, Teagan had managed to find a couple of interesting men, at least interesting enough to warrant meeting in person. There was the guy from her neighborhood who loved to backpack, who asked her out for a beer but then never followed up. There was the fellow fiction writer she’d had one coffee with—very cute and no kids—but a few days after their date, he texted her at 10 p.m. on a snowy night, asking if she “wanted some company.” With that, Teagan shut down her online account.

The truth was, she didn’t want to date. Between online dating and the guys she met hiking on sunny winter days, she’d met a decent number of men and hadn’t felt a thing for any of them. None measured up to Aaron. She hated that fact, but it was the truth.

When her burrito and margarita showed up, she dug in. The refreshing sweet-sour margarita only reminded her of Aaron and the meals they’d shared, sitting on sunny patios and talking about their lives. It had been so natural with him, in ways she couldn’t explain. Like even though they were different, she got him and he got her. But clearly, she hadn’t really gotten him at all.

Back at home, Teagan pulled up her online calendar to glance over her schedule for the spring and summer.

She considered planning some sort of real vacation, somewhere far away and different. But immediately she shook her head, knowing she could never afford to go to Iceland or anywhere abroad. She would have to be satisfied with places she could drive to and camp out. Teagan didn’t mind doing things alone, but she hated vacationing alone. So, that summer would mean spending time in the mountains with Hannah and driving to the Western Slope to camp with Diana.

She checked her convention schedule: Starfest in April, Denver Comic Con in June, and possibly Phoenix Comic Con. She stared at one weekend in May, where she’d marked the dates for Tucson Comic Con. She deleted it, then deleted Phoenix. She wasn’t going to waste part of her summer driving thirteen-plus hours in the desert heat, just to be reminded of what happened. Not this year, anyway.

She wondered how long it would take. For her to stop comparing other men to Aaron.

Teagan realized that Hannah was right, she couldn’t go on blaming herself. Yet, there were things she could have done better. Getting involved with a man whose divorce wasn’t even final wasn’t the wisest of choices. She should have asked for evidence of a divorce decree instead of blindly trusting Aaron. And, she’d been too accommodating, caring for Aaron’s home and dog and spending Christmas alone, without any kind of commitment from him. He hadn’t even told her he loved her, for fuck’s sake!

Teagan shrugged. Aaron was the best guy she’d ever met. But he wasn’t the one.