I Left Before the Snow Stopped

To celebrate our sixth anniversary, I'd worked twenty-six days straight so I could take one weekend off.

Early Friday morning, I flew from Chicago to Denver. Then I dragged my luggage onto a mountain shuttle and rode for more than two hours. By 11:50 a.m., I finally arrived at the North Creek park-and-ride in Colorado.

Before I left, Mason had confirmed the time over the phone.

"Noon, right? I'll be there by eleven-forty."

He was a structural engineer monitoring bridges in the mountains. I knew he could be called out at any time. So when his pickup wasn't there at 12:10, I didn't push him. I just sent him a message.

"I'm here, at the coffee stand."

By three, the snow was getting heavier.

By four, the state transportation department had issued a mountain road closure warning.

By five-thirty, the coffee stand was about to close. The barista handed me one last cup of hot water. She asked when my ride was coming.

I glanced at my message thread, still showing no reply, and said, "Should be soon."

Even then, I was still making excuses for him.

Maybe there was no signal at the site. Maybe he was stuck on a mountain road. Maybe he was driving and couldn't check his phone.

But at 6:40 p.m., the last shuttle back to Denver was canceled too.

The attendant locked up the ticket booth. Soon, I was the only one left at the park-and-ride. Wind cut across the open parking lot. Snow kept working its way into my shoes, and my toes quickly went numb.

I called Mason thirty-one times. I sent him my live location and forwarded the blizzard warning. My last message was just one line.

"There's no one here anymore. At least tell me you're safe."

Still no reply.

At 9:53 p.m., the video call finally connected.

The person on the screen was Tessa Morgan.

She was my best friend. We'd known each other for years. When she changed careers and went into PR, I helped her land her first job.

Now she was sitting in Mason's passenger seat. A white knit beanie covered her head, and the heater had left her cheeks pink.

"Ellie, don't be mad." She lifted the phone and panned it around, smiling casually. "I came up a couple of days early. Figured I'd borrow your tour guide."

She turned the camera toward the window.

"The ski resort is amazing. Mason even took me to the bar at the summit."

Then the camera shifted, giving me a glimpse of Mason's pickup parked outside a vacation rental. Tessa's phone was connected to the truck's sound system. The indie rock playlist she'd recommended to Mason three months ago was playing.

I'd sat in that truck many times.

Once, I'd asked to connect my music account. Mason said there was no point in having two accounts. Switching back and forth was too much trouble. He'd also said my favorite old jazz sounded "like hotel elevator music."

But now, Tessa's profile icon sat in the top-right corner of the display.

I didn't ask what she was doing in Colorado. I didn't ask why the two of them had spent the entire day together.

"Put Mason on."

Tessa's smile froze for a moment. Then it came back, as natural as before.

"Sure. You two talk."

Mason was in the driver's seat, one hand on the steering wheel. As soon as he heard my voice, he frowned.

"You're still at the park-and-ride?"

"You said you'd pick me up at noon."

"There was a last-minute inspection at the site, and then Tessa's snowboard broke." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Let me drop her off first. Call a rideshare and go to the hotel. I'll come find you later."

I looked at the snow coming down thicker and thicker outside the car window.

"The last shuttle's been canceled. There's no one here."

Mason paused.

"Then you've got even more reason to call a rideshare. Don't stand out there."

"Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting?"

"I know I'm late." His voice dropped. "But the mountain roads are closed now, and there's nothing I can do over the phone. It's Tessa's first time here. I can't just leave her alone."

"So I can be left alone?"

"I never asked you to wait there." His voice turned impatient. "I already told you to go to the hotel. Stop acting as if I left you there on purpose."

Beside him, Tessa complained about the cold. Mason turned up the heat at once and reached over to pull her door shut tighter.

I hung up the video call.

Ten minutes later, my rideshare arrived.

My driver, Rosa, was in her fifties. She told me she'd been an ER nurse before she retired. She got out to help with my luggage. Then she noticed my soaked shoes, and her expression changed.

"Get in first. Don't take your shoes off out here."

I hesitated.

"Pulling off frozen wet socks can tear the skin." She loaded my luggage into the trunk. "How long have you been standing here?"

"A few hours."

"Does the person picking you up know you're still here?"

I opened the car door and said quietly, "He knows."

Rosa glanced at me and didn't press further.

She turned the heat all the way up. Then she pulled a spare blanket from the trunk and draped it over my legs.

Once we were on the road, Rosa told me someone had been attacked at that same park-and-ride two weeks earlier. Staff were around during the day. At night, there were only a few security cameras and one streetlight.

"When I got the ride request, I thought the GPS was wrong." She looked at me in the rearview mirror. "Next time something like this happens, don't wait. Go somewhere with people."

"If the person picking you up really wants to find you, let him come to the hotel," Rosa added. "Stay safe first. Everything else can wait."

My fingers were stiff against the edge of my phone.

Mason's messages started popping up one after another.

"Why did you hang up?"

"I already gave you a solution."

"Can't you just go to the hotel first?"

"Stop making everything sound like I'm hurting you on purpose."

"I'm exhausted too."

More than twenty messages came in. Nearly every one was about him and how hard his day had been. Not one asked where I was.

Rosa dropped me off at a hotel near the Denver airport.

While I was checking in, the receptionist asked if I'd like to list an emergency contact. I stared at the form for a moment. Then, for the first time, I left Mason's name off it.

After checking in, my phone lit up again.

This time it was Naomi Cole.

She was the design director at Northline, and two weeks earlier she was the one who had put the London project in front of me.

I'd turned it down then. Mason had said three years of long-distance was enough, and he didn't want to wait any longer.

At the bottom of the email: acceptance deadline, 9 a.m. tomorrow.

I stood by the floor-to-ceiling window. Snowplows moved back and forth across the runway below. Then I called Naomi.

She picked up fast.

"The London office closes the application window at nine." She got straight to the point. "You have less than eleven hours."

"Is the offer still open?"

"It is. It's a twelve-month assignment. The original terms still apply."

I looked out at the snow that still hadn't stopped.

"Send it to me."