After a quick stop at a gas station to refuel, and a text to the B&B owners that we’re on our way, Grace and I are back on the road. It’s completely
deserted this morning. I suspect everyone is still in bed after whatever exciting New Year’s Eve party and will all wake up nursing unbearable hangovers.
Grace and I aren’t hungover, but we look it. Spending the night shivering and crammed in the back seat of a car does that to you. Yet despite my bleary eyes and sore body, it was one of the best nights of my life. Ringing in the New Year with Grace, a bottle of champagne, and a pact to eat each other.
I snicker at the memory.
“What’s so funny?” she says from the passenger side.
“Last night.” I offer a wry grin. “I was just thinking how much fun it was.”
“Fun? We almost died.”
“We didn’t almost die.” I spot a sign for our bed-and- breakfast up ahead and flick the turn signal. “We had an adventure.”
The advice Garrett gave me last week was spot-on. Spend as much time together as you can, go on adventures,
and make memories. Last night may not have gone as planned, but we still had a blast.
“I have a better pact for us,” I announce.
Grace huffs. “Better than cannibalism? Yeah, I doubt it, sweetheart.”
A laugh pops out. “Trust me, sweetheart, it’s way better.”
“All right, hit me.”
“This is the pact.” I gesture between us. “What do you mean?”
My tone softens. “You and me. The pact is that we spend as much time together as humanly possible. We don’t let our busy schedules control our relationship. If there’s no time, we make time.” I’m startled to hear my voice crack. “Hockey doesn’t matter. School, work. None of it matters if you and I are struggling. If we aren’t connecting.”
I’m equally startled to see tears well up in my girlfriend’s eyes.
“Fuck,” I mutter. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“It’s okay.” She wipes her cheeks. “It’s just…you’re right. The rest of it doesn’t matter. Yes, we have responsibilities to school and work, but we also have a responsibility to ourselves and our happiness. I’m not happy when we’re apart.”
“Me neither,” I say hoarsely. “That’s why we need to stick to the pact. You and me matter. I think the moment one of us feels unhappy in the relationship, or if we feel like the distance and time apart is affecting us negatively, then at the first available opportunity, we oughta do something like this.”
“Get stuck in a blizzard?” she teases.
“Go on an adventure,” I correct. “So what do you say— deal?”
She doesn’t hesitate. “Deal.”
Snow crunches beneath our tires as I drive down the narrow lane that leads to the B&B. It snowed a ton last
night, painting the entire landscape white. It’s beautiful. And so is the woman sitting beside me.
“We made it,” I say, slowing to a stop in front of the quaint two-story structure. I turn to give Grace a triumphant smile.
The front door of the B&B swings open to reveal a couple in their late fifties. They’re bundled up in parkas and scarves, the woman holding two huge mugs with steam rising from the top.
“John and Grace?” the man calls as we get out of the car. “That’s us,” I call back.
“We’re so sorry for the early arrival,” Grace apologizes. The woman dismisses that. “Oh, hush, don’t be sorry!
We’re just happy you made it here in one piece. That blizzard last night! Good grief, it was a bad one!” She thrusts out the two mugs. “Some hot tea. I thought you’d need it.”
“Thank you.” A grateful Grace accepts one of the mugs.
I take the other, welcoming the cloud of steam that warms my face.
“As you’ve probably figured out, we’re your hosts,” the woman says. “I’m Amanda, and this is my husband, Pastor Steve.”
“We’re very pleased to have you,” her husband says. “Even if only for a short stay.” He offers a sheepish smile in my direction. “I’m a big fan, son.”
I won’t lie—the praise never gets old. “Thank you, sir. And I—I’m sorry, but your wife’s introduction was, um…” Weird, I almost say. “Unclear,” I finish. “Should we call you Steve or Pastor?”
“Either works,” he says cheerfully.
“You’re a pastor?” Grace asks after another eager sip of tea.
“Indeed I am. I lead a small congregation here in our little community.”
His wife beams proudly. “He’s being modest! He counsels nearly every resident in Bowen County.”
I study Pastor Steve’s warm brown eyes, then glance over at Grace. Thoughtful. I mean…didn’t we literally just have a conversation about taking advantage of every opportunity that comes our way?
“What is it?” It’s that same tone she uses when she suspects I’m up to no good.
I flash her a faint smile before turning back to the pastor. “So. Just out of curiosity…” My grin widens. “Do you do weddings?”
