A Wedding in December

“I have a couple of errands. First I have to apologize to Mum and Dad, for flinging accusations and invading their privacy. After that,” she said, shrugging, “I don’t know. Maybe you’re right. Maybe we should fly home. Whatever we do, it’s been interesting.”

Rosie managed a smile. “You can’t beat a White family Christmas.”

Katie

Katie pulled on her outdoor gear and paused by the door.

She could hear the shower running, and she knew her sister was crying under that shower.

She clenched her hands, fighting the impulse to break down the bathroom door and hug her.

But what good was comfort?

Rosie didn’t need comfort. She needed the man she loved. And seeing as Katie was entirely responsible for what had happened, she was the one who should fix things. And that was in no way interfering. How could fixing a wrong be classed as interfering?

/> It was the natural order of things.

She’d messed up. And it was no good playing the what if game and wondering if she might have reacted differently had Rosie not called in the middle of a difficult shift, if Sally hadn’t been on her mind, if her head hadn’t been full of her own problems, or if the words perfect and whirlwind hadn’t triggered her protective instincts. That was in the past. All she could do was deal with now.

She closed the door behind her and walked toward Snowfall Lodge. It was freezing. Surely Dan wouldn’t still be out on the snowmobile? If he was, then she was sunk.

The walk to the lodge gave her time to think, and by the time she stepped into the elegant foyer, she knew exactly what she wanted to say.

Taking advantage of the fact that the reception staff were deep in conversation with guests, she ducked into the private stairwell and took the stairs up to the apartment.

She didn’t intend to give Dan warning of her arrival, and when she tapped on the door and he opened it she saw immediately that had been the right decision.

“I know you want to close the door in my face and I don’t blame you,” she said. “Give me ten minutes. That’s all I ask.”

“Rosie sent you.”

“Rosie would kill me if she knew I was here now.”

“But you’re willing to take that risk.”

“Yes, I am, because all of this is my fault.”

He opened the door and she stepped inside.

She could see from his body language that he was in agony. She took that as a good sign.

“So here’s the thing.” She paced to the window and stared across the now familiar beauty of the mountains. “I came here to stop your wedding.”

“Well, at least you’re honest.”

She turned. “It seemed too quick to me. A wild, crazy impulse. There were some things going on in my life—I won’t bore you with details, but taken together with what I already knew about Rosie, I felt I knew her mind better than she did. I was scared for her.” She thrust her hands into her pockets. She’d eaten so much humble pie in one day she felt bloated. “I’ve always seen her as vulnerable. All those times when she was little and I held her when she couldn’t breathe—well, that’s an image that’s hard to shake off.” She saw that his expression had changed.

Because she sensed he was listening, she kept talking.

“I was determined to find out more about you, because I was sure that Rosie couldn’t possibly know you properly after such a short time. So I asked questions.”

“I noticed.”

“I asked a lot of questions, and you were gracious and patient and—” she breathed “—and more polite than I deserved. You answered everything I asked. I thought maybe it was time I told you a bit about me.”

He frowned. “Katie—”

“Hear me out. I need you to understand why I behaved the way I did. I need you to understand that it wasn’t personal. I’m quick to judge. Too quick. I often start with the worst-case scenario and work backward. I’m fiercely protective of the people I love. I’m a perfectionist, which isn’t good and I’m working on it.” She sat down on the sofa, staring at her hands. She didn’t have a plan for what to say, but she knew she had to keep talking. “The first time Rosie had an asthma attack, I thought I was going to lose my little sister. I felt this huge sense of responsibility.” She glanced up. “When she went to college, she didn’t want to worry our mother so she used to call me when she was in trouble. And that was fine, I was pleased she turned to me—”