She felt as if she was leaving home.
Somehow, over the past week, she’d fallen in love with Snow Crystal. And not just Snow Crystal, but with the whole O’Neil family.
And Jackson.
Oh, God, she was in love with Jackson.
Crazily, madly in love with Jackson.
She leaned her head back against the seat.
No, no, no. How had she let it happen?
This was what she’d avoided.
“Stop the car!”
“What?”
“Stop the car—just for a minute—”
She gripped the pinecone, her brain spinnin
g.
What the hell was she doing?
Her life was in front of her, and she only ever looked ahead, didn’t she?
She should do the sensible thing and return to New York and her promotion. She should go back to living behind the walls she’d built and keeping herself safe. She’d direct the account, but someone else would do the real work. Someone else would be the one spending time at Snow Crystal with Walter, Alice and Elizabeth.
Someone else would work with Jackson.
And eventually he’d meet someone.
“Lady—”
“Just a minute...” She pressed her fingers to her forehead, feeling as if she were being torn in two directions, like the rope in a tug-of-war.
Jackson was right, she thought. She was scared.
Most of her life, decisions had been driven by fear. She didn’t form close relationships because she was scared of losing. She was good at building walls, but hopeless at opening doors. Jackson had smashed down those walls, pushed his way through the door she’d never opened and found the person she’d hidden away all those years before.
He knew her better than she knew herself.
She thought about their walk through the forest, about skiing together, about the nights lying in his arms on the shelf while they talked about things she’d never talked about before.
The pinecone lay in her palm and she looked down at it, remembering the night he’d given it to her. The kiss she knew she’d never forget.
And then she thought about the life waiting for her in New York. Promotion. Security. She’d have to be crazy to throw that away, wouldn’t she?
The taxi driver glanced in his mirror. “Lady, you need to make up your mind.”
Why was she hesitating?
There was only one decision she could possibly make.
* * *