Epilogue
The firewood was slowly dying in the fireplace, and with effort, I set my red pen and latest manuscript down beside me and rose from my chair. I picked up a log and tried to pry open the fire screen. The thing was old and stubborn, so I jiggled it hard, holding on to the log with the other hand.
“What are you doing? Let me do that.” Davinder grabbed the log out of my hand. “And it’s hot in here. We don’t need more heat.”
“I’m freezing my ass off.”
“Where’s your blanket?”
“Hanging outside for two days. It’s still wet.”
“Because it’s been raining.”
“And you said you’d take it in.”
“All right.” Swiftly, he pried open the screen and placed the log in the flames.
How did he manage to do everything with such ease, when I had arthritis in every one of my joints and found it diff
