Chapter 12

A gust of wind danced across the summit, carrying with it the faint tang of snow. Below, the Canterbury Plains stretched wide and golden under a softening afternoon sun. Roy glanced at Sonia, who was staring into the distance, eyes narrowed against the light. Her hair lifted slightly in the breeze, a few strands brushing her cheek.

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

“For what?”

“For going there with me. For being real.”

She turned toward him, her expression thoughtful. “It felt ... overdue. Not just for this weekend, but for life in general.”

“Yeah.” He gave a half-smile. “We didn’t solve anything, but I don’t think that was the point.”

“No. But we named things. That matters.”

For a moment, they simply sat with the silence, no longer uncomfortable or uncertain, just present.

Finally Roy stood and stretched. “We’d better make a move. I don’t fancy navigating those scree patches in the dark.”

“Agreed.” Sonia rose beside him, brushing dust from her trousers. “But I think the descent will be easier.”

Roy gave her a sideways look. “The literal one or the metaphorical?”

She grinned. “Let’s find out.”

When Roy and Sonia returned to the motel, dusk was stretching its soft fingers across the foothills. The glow on the snowfields was fading to lavender, and the air carried that crisp alpine coolness that hinted at frost before dawn. They were chatting casually as they walked up the steps to Sonia’s unit when Roy noticed the folded piece of paper taped to the door.

Sonia raised an eyebrow and peeled it free. “It’s from Rena. She and Dave are inviting us to join them in their private quarters for dinner.” She glanced up at Roy. “You up for a bit of local hospitality?”

“Absolutely. Beats us eating leftover wraps on the balcony in beanies.”

Sonia laughed. “I’ll just duck in and freshen up. Give me ten?”

Roy nodded and stepped back to his own unit to wash and change into a clean shirt. Twenty minutes later, they were seated at a modest dinner table in the Mackenzie Lodge owners’ home, plates of venison stew and roast vegetables before them. Rena and Dave were excellent hosts—warm, inquisitive, lightly teasing.

“So,” Dave said after the first glass of pinot noir had been poured, “we’ve seen a lot of couples come through here, and I must say you two have a very ... synchronised energy.”

Sonia gave a wry smile and flicked a glance at Roy. “Do we now?”

Rena joined in. “Don’t worry, we’re not nosy—just curious romantics. We’ve been together twenty-two years and still enjoy reading the tea leaves in other people’s lives.”

Roy chuckled. “Well, the kettle’s only just been put on with us. Where it’s heading, we’re not entirely sure. But we’re enjoying the steam.”

That drew a round of laughter and mercifully shifted the topic to hiking trails and the challenges of running a lodge in the tourist off-season.

Later, as they stood outside saying goodnight under a clear, star-strewn sky, Sonia gave Roy’s arm a squeeze. “Thanks for deflecting that with humour. I wasn’t quite ready to give a relationship press briefing.”

“You mean I can’t call a media conference on the balcony tomorrow?” he deadpanned.

“Try it and I’ll take out a restraining order.”

They parted for the night with gentle goodnights and no firm plans for the next day. Perhaps another trip to the pools, perhaps a slow stroll in town. It was a rare feeling for them both—unstructured time in each other’s company. The kind that quietly deepens bonds.