I brought my arms up and around him, hugging him in return, not understanding what had prompted this.

“Hey, you okay?” I asked, pulling back.

“I didn’t like you not being here last night. It sucked,” Flynn said, and I cupped is cheek with my hand.

“Aww. That’s sweet,” I teased.

“Your hands are freezing,” Flynn said, jerking away from my touch.

“Yeah, well I had to park at the bottom of your driveway. There was no way I could get my car up here.”

Flynn frowned. “Dexter Mullins is supposed to plow the driveway. He lives down the road and I pay him. Did he not do it?”

“Oh it was plowed, but my car still wouldn’t have made it. So I walked,” I said, closing the front door and finally starting to melt in the warmth.

“You’re all wet. You should change before you get sick,” Flynn announced, pointing at my dripping socks.

“Good idea. I’ll be right back,” I said, all but running to the bedroom to find some dry clothes.

A few minutes later I came out to find that Flynn had made me some coffee. He had obviously been working on his sculptures. There were several new ones lined up along the table.

“It looks like you’ve been busy,” I said, indicating the new sculptures.

Flynn shrugged. “I had to keep my mind busy. I didn’t like you being at Dania’s. So I worked on these. It helped,” he said, shrugging.

“I’m sorry that you didn’t like me being there,” I told him, carefully running my hands through his hair in the way I knew he liked.

He leaned into my hand and closed his eyes for a minute. He seemed relaxed now that I was home. He seemed content. It made my heart swell to know that I put that look on his face.

I sat down beside him at the table and sipped on my coffee while he continued to work on his sculptures. We were quiet, the only sound coming from the television.

I thought about Dania saying that I didn’t seem to be happy. If she could see me right now, she would never have questioned my feelings.

Watching Flynn work reminded me of how we used to be when we were young. I had always loved this side of him. When he worked on his art he was confident and sure. There was no hesitation or resistance. He immersed himself totally.

And I once more became that girl who was most at ease in his company.

“What do you think about taking a trip?” I asked suddenly. I hadn’t planned to make the suggestion. But it popped out of my mouth, without forethought.

“A trip,” Flynn stated expressionlessly.

I picked up the tiny sand castle Flynn had made for me over three years ago in commemoration of our first trip together. We had gone to a beach in Virginia and for the short time we had been there, things had been perfect.

“I was thinking about our trip to Sandbridge Beach the other day and how much I enjoyed it,” I said, tracing a finger along the curves of the tiny sculpture.

“We didn’t stay long. You came back when Dania had her baby that she gave away. You didn’t talk to me for weeks,” he said matter of factly, and I flushed with years old shame.

“I know. That part wasn’t great, but everything leading up to it was. Walking on the beach, having dinner. Just being somewhere away from here,” I mused.

“You want to go somewhere that isn’t here,” he said slowly, still molding the clay in front of him.

“I want to go somewhere with you. I think it would be good for both of us, don’t you think?”

Flynn didn’t say anything for a while. I put the sculpture back in its spot by the window. “You want to go to the beach again? It’ll be too cold to get into the water,” he said and I grinned. He was agreeing to go.

“No, I wasn’t thinking the beach. Do you remember Nadine?” I asked him.

“The girl with one eye that’s bigger than the other?”

I choked on a laugh. “Uh, yeah, her.”

Flynn finally looked up, his face bland. “Are you okay? You sound like you’re choking. Point to your throat if you are.”

“I’m fine, Flynn.”

He returned to his sculpting. “Well, you wouldn’t be able to talk if you were choking. So I guess you’re okay.”

“Well anyway, Nadine lives in New York City and she’s invited us to come for a visit. Isn’t that awesome?”

Flynn was quiet, his hands deftly moving the clay until it formed a building with thin columns.

“Flynn. What do you think?” I asked impatiently, finding his silence frustrating.

“I don’t like cities,” he remarked.

I tried not to get annoyed. I tried not to blow up at him when once again he shot down my suggestions. I hated that for a brief second I wished that he could be, just for once, someone who wasn’t terrified to leave the town he lived in.

Then I despised myself for it.

“I know cities are loud and busy but it could be fun,” I hedged, trying to convince him. “Hey! Didn’t you sell a bunch of your pieces to a shop in Manhattan? We could go to see them!” I suggested, trying to be enthusiastic. But Flynn’s negative attitude was pretty deflating.

“They were for Christmas. It’s not Christmas anymore,” he stated with a bit of an edge to his voice.

“Okay, well we could go see a play. Or go to the zoo. Maybe we could go out and see the Statue of Liberty!” I sounded frantic. I felt my anger start to simmer and all I could think about were Dania’s words last night: I know what you look like when you’re happy and this isn’t it.