“Good morning,” I murmur, his dark eyes filled with warmth when we make eye contact. “What do you want for breakfast?” I ask, determined to even out the scales. He’s been doing so much for me because he’s sure of me. How could I have gone and married a guy I wasn’t sure of?

  Which demon fucking possessed me and made me do it?

  Maybe it was old Saint Nick, huh?

  I deserve a thousand pounds of coal for Christmas.

  SEVENTEEN

  On the seventh day with no power, the water stops working. The only good news is that the freezing rain has stopped, but the temperature has cooled and the world is covered in a sheet of ice.

  I look around worriedly, my stomach twisting into knots. “Logan, we’re in trouble. Water, there’s no more water.”

  Logan waves a hand towards the pots where I’ve been keeping some water, the stuff we’ve stockpiled for a few days now.

  “We’ll be okay. And if not, we’ll find a shelter to go to.”

  I glance around my apartment, feeling a pang of loss even if I’m still right here. “This is my home,” I croak, crossing my arms over my chest.

  Logan opens his arms slowly, a silent invitation to move towards him and accept what he’s offering. I take one hesitant step forward and then another and another, until I’m in his arms, letting him hold me up.

  It’s nice, really nice.

  I like how he has answers, I like that I don’t have to think it through myself, that I can give him a part of the puzzle to figure it out instead of me going all lone wolf.

  It could be like this for as long as you want it, Max. As long as you can stand it.

  Guilt floods my throat, and I want to tell him, I want to tell him what I have remembered. I want to tell him that I’m terribly sorry for using him the way I am, the way I’ve been because I basically said yes so I could feel comfortable on Christmas Day.

  I didn’t think I was that desperate, but apparently, I am.

  “We’ll be all right, Max. We will be.”

  “I don’t really want to leave here,” I say. “I feel safe here.” I feel safe here with you, Logan.

  “I know, I know you do. But if we have to leave, then we have to leave. The forecast says it should be warming up tomorrow, so hopefully we’ll get power back soon.”

  “You’re just saying that to make me feel better. You don’t know, either.”

  “No, I don’t know,” he says, pressing his cheek to the top of my head. “But I know that we’re luckier than most. We have a roof over our heads, and enough food to last a few more days before we really start skimping. We have water, too. We’re lucky, Max. Besides, you’re in really good company.”

  I snort. “I think I want to go back to bed.”

  “Then we can go back to bed. What do you want to read?” he asks, holding onto my hand and tugging me to my mattress. I snuggle underneath the covers, and Logan pulls me close until we’re facing each other, a book between us.

  I can’t see Logan’s face, but it doesn’t matter. As he starts to read to me, his voice soothing and the perfect pitch that I find myself relaxing. I let my brain fill in the picture of what he’s describing to me.

  It doesn’t take long for me to go back to sleep from being warm and snuggled close to Logan.

  “Are you paying attention?” Logan asks, his voice floating to me as if from a great distance, even though I know he’s right next to me.

  I don’t open my eyes – when did they close? – but Logan’s chuckle is just as nice listening to it without seeing it.

  “I’m not here,” I mumble, seeking out more sleep so I don’t have to deal with the fact that we could run out of water, that we would both have to leave the relative safety of my apartment for a shelter.

  “Do you want me to keep going?” he asks, absentmindedly stroking my arm up and down. He’s always soothing me when it should be the other way around.

  You have to fix this, Max. You have to so it’s fair.

  I hum. “Yeah, you have a nice voice.”

  “Uh, well, we’re coming up to the first…uh…intimate scene.”

  I open my eyes and force Logan to lower the book so I can see his face. “Intimate scene?” I squint at him. “Logan, are you blushing? Really?”

  “I’m not blushing,” he murmurs but hides behind the book anyway.

  My muscles tense up, and the question comes out of me like I’ve been sucker-punched. “Logan, Logan, can I kiss you?”

  Logan lowers the book again so I can see his pink face. “Right now?”

  I scoff. “Of course right now. You’re being cute.”

  Logan laughs and licks his lips. “How the hell am I doing that? I didn’t mean to.”

  I snuggle closer and run my hand along the collar of his shirt. “You know, one second you look about ready to seduce me with a whole bunch of skin on display, and then other times you’re so shy.”

  Logan’s cheeks go even pinker. I move my hand to touch the warmth there, smile when Logan turns his head to kiss my palm.

  I about melt right through the mattress.

  “I’m sorry.”

  I shake my head. “There’s nothing to apologize for. I kind of like it, you being all shy. I like it when you feel confident. I like it all. I like you, Logan.”

  Logan closes his eyes, tries curling in on himself, but he forgets that I’m right there. He somehow rolls the two of us until I’m on my back with Logan lying down on top of me. He groans in the crook of my neck, his cheeks burning against my face.

  I’ve never been this close with someone before other than the times I was having sex. I’ve never really had this closeness, and it’s really…nice.

  “Do you remember, Max? Do you remember it all?”

  My heart drums faster and I hold Logan more tightly, keeping him close like he’s about to slip away through my fingers.

  Guilt burns hot in the pit of my stomach and tries to flood up my throat. I swallow it down. “Not all of it yet,” I say. Logan leans out of my neck to look down at me, his eyes roving over my face. “I remember some of the night when I met up with you at the bar. And when we went to go get hot dogs, but that’s it so far.”

  I’m not lying, not completely.

  Logan’s mouth is thin, and he clenches his jaw hard enough that I swear I can hear his teeth grind. “Yeah?”

  I nod, squirming underneath his stare. “I’m trying hard to remember what happened, Logan. I am.”

  Look at me, lying my ass off. It’s a Christmas miracle!

  He nods, and rolls off me, giving me my space. “Should I continue reading or do want to get up and have something to eat?”

  I shake my head, suddenly feeling cold. “No, no. I’ll read something on my own.” I frown at the book obscuring his face again and wonder what the hell just happened.

  What did I say? Was it something I didn’t say?

  I hide under the covers, shivering a little at the temperature change. Now that I’ve known what it’s like to share Logan’s body heat with him, going back to having to fend for myself sucks.

  When we do talk it’s stilted and forced, like we’ve run out of topics to discuss like after a whole six days, we’ve forgotten how to speak to each other about anything.

  “You’re supposed to be my husband,” I say, practically jabbing my fork at him.

  We’re both huddled at the kitchen island, trying to scarf down our rice for supper that’s flavored with soy sauce and rice vinegar. It’s tasty, but it’s just rice.

  I mean, I think I would commit a crime for a hamburger with a side of sweet potato fries right now.

  I’m definitely not cut out for this end of the world shit. Definitely not.

  Logan glances over, his eyebrows practically high fiving his hairline.

  I keep jabbing the air with my fork. “You’re supposed to be my husband.”

  “Max, you don’t even know what that means,” he says, turning his attention back to his rice. Just like that, I’ve been dismissed.

  “What is up your ass today? Has this shitty survivalist lifestyle finally gotten to you?”

  Logan sighs, deflating. “Nothing, Max. Nothing’s wrong.”

  I keep pushing. “What is it that you want me to remember so badly, huh? What?” I snap. My heart beats triple time, and my dinner is sitting in my stomach like I’ve swallowed a block of lead.

  “We both…went into this with our eyes wide open.”

  I nod, because yeah, from what I remember, that’s the truth. Except it feels like Logan’s keeping something from me, still. I don’t know if I want to know what it is.

  “And it’s really not fair to talk about any of this until you get all of your memory back of that night.”

  I squint at him. Go back to my rice. We’re both avoiding talking about this, and honestly, we might have more important things to discuss.

  “We have food for two more days, tops,” I say, eating up the last of my supper. It’s not enough, not nearly enough, but enough to sate my hunger for now. I should be grateful that I have food at all, but all I’m focusing on lately is what I can’t have, what I don’t have, and that’s not right either.

  “I know, Max.”

  “And we only have enough water for two more days after that, according to my calculator,” I say to my empty bowl.

  “I know, Max.”

  “So we should stop being jerks to each other and figure this out.”

  He turns to look at me, ignoring his food. He’s eating more slowly than I ate mine, he’s showing the kind of restraint that I usually have.

  I think and think and calculate the odds until I’m ready to take that step forward on a single journey. I plan accordingly for disaster, but this? I never saw Logan Porter coming in the middle of a storm where we’d have to live together for days.

  I didn’t see any of this coming.

  “I’ll wash up,” he offers, scraping back the stool and rounding the island to head to the sink. “Go ahead and get ready for bed.”

  It’s such a freaking boyfriend, or hell, a husband thing to say.

  I do my nighttime routine and then stand around the living room, waiting for Logan to finish up, but he’s still in the bathroom.

  I dive under the covers when the door opens, and I quickly try to hide my face.

  I watch Logan walk around the living room, blowing out the candles until the room smells like wax and smoke, and the dying scent of hot chocolate and peppermint sugar cookies.

  When Logan crawls into bed, it’s to sleep with a space between the two of us, and boy, do I feel every lonely inch.

  “What happened today?” I ask, staring at the ceiling.

  It’s dark enough that I have to strain my eyes to make out where everything is, and I feel safer talking like this. My heart drums in my chest, and my palms clutch the covers tightly.

  Logan doesn’t answer for a time, but I’m prepared to wait him out.

  “I have something to tell you, but I’m afraid you’re going to hate me.”

  I keep still and keep staring up at the ceiling. “Did you hurt me the night that I can’t remember?”

  Logan hisses, like the thought alone makes him sick. “No, Max. Of course not. I would never do that.”

  “So what’s so terrible that you can’t say it out loud? Do you have a criminal record I don’t know about?” I ask, delighted to hear his surprised laugh.

  “No. I led a pretty boring life until you came into it.”

  I slap a hand over one cheek, determined to hide my blush even in the dark.

  The rustle of sheets and blankets is the only thing that alerts me to the fact that Logan has turned towards me. I look over, trying to discern where his eyes are, the shape of his silhouette.

  “I doubt that.”

  “I’m being serious. Ever since meeting you, my life’s been turned upside down, Max.”

  “Yeah, well…I’m sorry.”

  Logan snorts. “I’m not. That’s why it’s so hard to tell you what I need to.”

  I gulp. “Okay, then tell me. I’m listening.”

  “When I proposed, a part of me meant it through and through,” he says in a whisper.

  “That means that there was a part of you that didn’t mean it, Logan.” My heart beats erratically, and a flash of heat sizzles my skin from head to toe. I kick off the covers to get some respite in the cool air.

  “I know. And I’m sorry.”

  “Okay, that doesn’t change anything, though. Not really.”

  “Of course it does. I’m a piece of shit for even asking when I didn’t mean it a hundred percent.”

  I laugh a little, but it sounds brittle, even to me. I shouldn’t be upset, I really shouldn’t be. But there’s a part of me that wants the magic, that wants the whimsy. I never believed in love at first sight. Logan’s the one that made me believe in it because he seemed so sure about it, about me.

  It made it seem like this was all meant to be, and I kind of fell under the spell of the fairy tale ending when real life doesn’t work that way.

  I mean, I’m me. I’m pretty terrible at long-term relationships judging by my record, and usually at the first display of intimacy (like what happened the night Logan and I were together), I bolt like a rabbit that got a whiff of a wolf.

  “People get married to each other all the time even though they aren’t sure about it or each other. So what? You’re one of many. It’s not that big of a deal,” I tell him.

  Relief floods through my body. I let myself go completely boneless on the mattress, relaxing.

  I’m off the hook, I’m off the hook for saying yes because I wanted him to come over to my parents’ for Christmas! Another Christmas miracle!

  “I wanted to be sure, Max. I wanted you to deserve that, at least.”

  I shrug, ignoring the stinging in my eyes. It would have been nice, sure, but it’s not like I need it. I wanted it, and Logan made me believe.

  I’m such an idiot.

  My phone pings underneath the covers, and I fumble until I have it in my hand. I squint at the brightness before adjusting the settings. The group family chat comes in with about three hundred texts, everyone talking to each other.

  “I’ve got some service,” I say. “Do you need to call someone?” I ask, moving to hand my phone over. Except Logan already has his phone in his hand, squinting at his screen.

  I glance over my own messages and look over the family chat, quickly reading everyone’s checking-in texts. I send my own ‘I’m alive’ message, and get some thumb’s up emojis in response.

  I’m glad that my family is safe and healthy despite the major inconvenience of the power being out so long. That worm of worry wriggles in my belly at the thought of not having enough food for the day after tomorrow, but I swallow it down, determined not to worry about it for now.

  “Fuck,” Logan whispers. From the light of his screen, I can see him frowning at his phone. When I look back at my phone, it’s to find that the service has gone out again, and I’m left with no bars.

  “Were you able to get a message out?”

  Logan shakes his head, then slams his phone into the covers. I bite my lip and try to keep quiet. “Shit,” he grunts.

  “Maybe we’ll get service back tomorrow,” I say, not really believing it. Tomorrow’s going to come soon enough and we’re going to have to decide whether to stay here and wait out the power outage or leave my apartment behind.

  “Maybe,” he sighs, and I know there’s more that he wants to say, but just won’t.

  After living with him around the clock for seven whole days, I’d like to think I know him by now.

  Logan picks up after himself and doesn’t expect anyone to come cleaning up after him. He doesn’t sleep on his side of the bed and likes moving around during the night. While that usually ends up with me snuggled up close and personal, I don’t mind.

  He cooks good food, especially under the circumstances. He’s calm where I’m the one that freaks out at every minor inconvenience. He lends out a helping hand that I’ve always been too afraid to take, to grab a hold of just in case he decides I’m not worth it and decides to let me go.

  “Logan? Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

  Logan grunts. “I can’t, Max. I can’t. Not right now.” He turns on his side away from me, giving me his broad back. I barnacle myself around his body and hold him tightly until he relaxes. “Please, let me keep this to myself for now.”

  I could yell at him for doing that, for wanting to keep secrets while he’s taken everything from me. Except I hear the deep pain in his voice, and I want to do anything to soothe it.

  I might not have said yes with the best intentions but that doesn’t mean I can’t try to make things right. It doesn’t mean I can’t give him back the care he’s given me.

  It’s all about that game of giving and taking, and I have to give more now than I’ve taken.

  Logan could be the one I fall in love with if I let myself, if I let him off the hook and forget about Christmas dinner, forget about trying to please my parents. I can forget about getting their approval – I can do this just for me, and for Logan.

  I’ve basically survived a frozen rain apocalypse. I can face down my parents alone.

  Maybe.

  It sure would be nice if Logan came with me, though.

  It would be really nice.

  EIGHTEEN

  I wake up to incredible brightness.

  The sun has got to be filtering through the curtains, and it’s somehow getting directly into my eyeballs.

  When the back of my eyelids goes pink, I groan and move over onto my side, trying to hide away from the glow.

  Except I’m sleeping in the living room, and the curtains are definitely drawn because of the cold. There should be no light coming through, and there shouldn’t be any kind of light in the living room unless…

  I hike myself up onto my hands and glance around.

  All the lights are on in my living room which means I have power!

  I have power!