Canada is very cold.

Specifically, the Northwest Territories are very cold. Seriously fucking cold.

I relish every moment of the frigid temperatures. When I’m not in meetings, I spend my time walking the quiet streets, bundled up in a parka and what my Canadian colleagues refer to as a toque. Even with down-filled gloves on, I still have to keep my hands shoved deep into my pockets.

Even the sub-arctic climate isn’t enough to keep me from thinking of Blake.

Every time her face pops into my mind, a rush of warmth runs through me. My blood sizzles. The cold temperatures are only enough to bring me back to something like normal. Not enough to cool me down completely.

Blake.

Even her name sends my heart racing.

I force myself not to think of her while I’m here, as much as possible, focusing instead on the deal I’m supposed to be closing. A new Canadian diamond mine is opening up, and we want a direct link with Cartwright Diamonds. This could be the biggest pipeline we’ve had in years. It would mean not just a reliable inventory source for us, but closing off a potentially-viable market for the rest of the competition. That would be a huge win for us, one my board wouldn’t be able to overlook. Let’s see Ray Kellerman try to stir the pot after I seal this deal.

And yet, instead of thinking business and strategy and how to set Cartwright a step ahead of the competition, I’m thinking about Blake. About the way she threw her head back when I thrust inside her. About the way her pussy felt, wrapped so snuggly around my cock. About the taste of her lips, her skin, the way her scent lingered on me for hours, days, afterwards.

It’s a fucking distraction, is what it is.

To be honest, that’s why I decided to come up here to Canada in the first place. I knew that being around the office with her would be nothing but a temptation. That if I saw her prancing around in one of those short little dresses, there’s no way I’d be able to keep from pulling her into my lap and nuzzling my dick up inside her again. I want her, again and again and again. It will never be enough. It can never be enough.

So I had to get out of the office. I could have fired her, I suppose, but there’s a part of me that finds that idea absolutely abhorrent. I can’t fire Blake any more than I could cut off my own dick. It just isn’t a viable option.

So, removing myself from the picture entirely seemed the easiest way to go.

I draw the trip out as long as I can, insisting on taking individual meetings with just about every executive in the entire damn mining company. I even take a meeting with the Canadian Minister of Natural Resources. By Wednesday, they’re so anxious to do business with Cartwright Diamonds that they’re about ready to pay me for the privilege of taking their diamonds.

Still, I would have found a way to stay even longer — maybe insisted on flying a couple folks from my legal department up here, taking a more in-depth look at the environmental impact assessment. I could have stretched out the visit. Except this is the weekend the kids are coming to stay with me, so I have to be back in the city. So on Thursday, I reluctantly board my chartered flight and head back to New York.

Jack and Daisy arrive that night, just after six o’clock. Heather drops them off. As promised, she comes bearing an Xbox and an iPad. She also tries to shove a hundred dollar bill into my hands.

“For pizza,” she explains.

I roll my eyes and wave off the money. Heather is a shareholder in Cartwright Diamonds, and our father made sure she and her family were well taken care of when he died, but that’s beside the point. I refuse to take her money, especially for doing something as basic as taking care of her kids for a weekend. How much pizza could two kids eat, anyway?

“Logan, thanks again for doing this,” she sighs, as she reluctantly stuffs the cash back into her bag. “They’ve really been looking forward to it.”

Jack and Daisy have already wandered off to explore the penthouse. They’ve both been here a few times, though always when the whole family has been here. Neither of them has ever come to stay on their own before, and I can tell they’re both excited and a little bit anxious about the whole thing. I feel a pang of guilt that I haven’t spent more time with them.

“My pleasure,” I assure my sister. “I’m looking forward to getting to spend some quality time with them.”

“You’re such a good sport. It’s really a shame you never had kids.”

I tense up immediately. This is the second time this month she’s made a similar comment. “You know that’s not the life for me.”

“It could have been.”

“Heather…” I caution. She knows better than to go down this road. I don’t know why she’s pushing it.

“I know, but I don’t understand why you never talk about it. Why you never tried to find love again. It’s been eight years, Logan.”

And this is a conversation we’ve had at least once a year since it happened. I know she’s just looking out for me, but Heather doesn’t understand why I wouldn’t want to try again after losing Laura. Then again, she doesn’t know what it feels like to have the one person you love most in the world ripped away from you. You don’t come back from grief like that. You can’t ever really be whole again.

And so, we have this conversation, once a year or so. And it always ends the same way — with her upset and me pissed off.

It should end the same way this time. After all, nothing’s changed since the last time she brought it up. Laura’s still gone, and I’m still the asshole who found a way to channel his grief into fucking anything and everything in a skirt.

Except now, I flop down onto the couch. “I don’t know, Heather. Because it’s too hard.”

Her hand is on my shoulder, and she gives it a squeeze. “I know. But don’t you think not moving on might be just as hard, in the end?”

Unbidden, an image of Blake comes into my mind. Blake coming into my office, wringing out her wet hair. Her make-up smeared under her bright blue eyes. Her pink dress clinging to every filthy curve.

But Blake isn’t about me moving on. It’s just more of the same — me, fucking my hot and eager assistant. It’s what I do.

“Maybe,” I admit. “But at this point, I guess … I just really don’t know how else to live.”

“Well, the first step is admitting that, right?” Heather smiles. It’s warm and sympathetic, and it makes me feel stupid and helpless, two things I despise feeling.

“Sure. Whatever.” I stand up again, stretching to my full height. “Now, I have a very special weekend to get to. No moms allowed.”

Heather hesitates, but then she hitches up the strap of her purse. “Sure. I can take a hint. Just promise me you’ll think about it, Logan. I don’t like seeing you so ... stunted.”

I show her out the door and then go chase down the kids, who’ve found the cinema room I had installed when I bought the place. The one I don’t think I’ve ever used more than twice in the entire time I’ve lived here.

“This is the coolest place ever!” my nephew gushes. His bright green eyes, so similar to Heather’s, are wide and enthusiastic. “Do you have any movies we can watch?”

“Hmm. There’s a new documentary about Bitcoin I wanted to watch.”

Jack wrinkles his nose and exchanges a skeptical look with Daisy.

“No? Okay … how about samurais? Do you like samurais?”

“Yes!” Jack cheers, but Daisy is still frowning.

“Oh wait,” I muse. “That one has subtitles. You guys can read, right?”

Daisy shakes her head. She’s clutching a small little stuffed lamb to her chest, and her bottom lip is starting to quiver. I run my hands through my hair. I’m not off to a great start.

“Okay — let’s put a pin in that for now. Have you guys had dinner yet?”

They both silently shake their heads.

I try to smile. “Well, you’re in luck — my cook was in earlier today and left us a delicious rack of lamb. Do you like lamb?”

“Lamb?” Daisy’s voice is barely more than a whisper. She looks down at her little stuffed sheep in horror. Fuck.

“Um, no. Just kidding.” I scrub my hands over my jaw. I’m really on a roll here. For a hot second, I think about calling Heather and begging her to come rescue me. Clearly, I have no idea what I’m doing.

Then I kick myself. I own a multi-national, multi-billion-dollar company. I’m known and feared in this industry, and even outside of it. Surely, I can handle two small children for a couple of nights.

“Uncle Logan, my bum itches,” Daisy announces.

I make a strangled noise and try to look chill. “Right.” How to put this delicately? “Inside or outside?”

Daisy’s mouth gapes. “Outside,” she says, as if this should be obvious.

“Okay.” I relax a hair. “Well, scratch it then.”

She and Jack giggle. “Mom says it’s not polite to scratch your bum when other people are around.”

“Ohhhh.” I got this. “Well, guess what? Uncle Logan’s place is a certified bum-scratching zone. So scratch away.”

She gives it a good scratch while Jack dissolves into laughter. Suddenly, I’m feeling much better about my ability to look after these kids. It’s not really so hard — somewhere in there, I vaguely remember what it was like to be a kid. To not feel like I had the weight of the world on my shoulders.

“Okay — who wants pizza for dinner?”

“Meeeeee!” shriek two very enthusiastic children.

“Me, too. So, let’s get some delivered, and then we’ll see if we can rent a movie, maybe …”

“Frozen!” Daisy volunteers. Jack rolls his eyes.

“Well, you know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen that one.” I scratch my chin. “Is it any good?”

“It’s the best!” Daisy twirls around, her earlier horror and itchy bum forgotten already. Jack doesn’t seem as convinced.

“How about this — we’ll get two movies. Frozen, and the new Star Wars movie. Think that would look good on this screen?”

“Yes!” He fist bumps me. I’ve never felt cooler in my life.

“Let’s get this party started, then. Um, Daisy, you might want to go wash your hands. Actually, why don’t we all go do that?”

That night, after I tuck Jack and Daisy into the guest bedroom, I lie awake, staring at my bedroom ceiling. Despite getting off to a rocky start, the evening turned out to be pretty fun. Sure, I would have rather been eating rack of lamb than plain cheese pizza from Toni Pepperoni. But that was a pretty small sacrifice for those two little people.

Now that I’m alone in my room again, though, I find myself replaying Heather’s words. Stunted. Is that how she sees me? I would have said I did a good job of moving on from Laura’s death, at least from the outside. After all, I’m rich, successful, driven. My social calendar is never lacking, and the revolving door to my bedroom rarely gets a rest. Is that what stunted looks like?

Leave it to Heather to cut right in there, to make me question everything I’m doing.

But it isn’t just my sister’s words that keep me from sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see Blake again. For just a second, I let myself entertain the idea of what it would be like to have her here in my bed, sleeping next to me. Her blonde hair spilled out over my pillow. Her warm curves pressed up against me, her body naked under my sheets.

I don’t think I sleep a wink.