Hearing me, Andrés turns with a questioning look.
I nod toward the ground. "It crunches when I walk on it. It's like frozen corn flakes."
Andrés's jaw drops and he looks at me as if I've grown a second head.
"What?" I ask.
He reaches up and cups my chin, which is already numb from the cold. Then Andrés does something I haven't seen him do in a long time: he smiles. "I love you, that's what."
My throat tightens with emotion, and it takes all of my willpower to keep from turning into a blithering heap of sobs. He's told me he loves me a thousand times. Why do I feel like crying when he says it now?
"Stay close." He turns his back and holds his hand out behind him. "Those snow banks can get deep. I don't want to lose you in a corn flake avalanche."
We walk farther away from the lodge and then off the beaten path. I gasp when the frozen fluff reaches the tops of my shins. It's not compacted like the snow close to the lodge, but it's still thicker than I was expecting and it takes a lot of energy just to trudge through it. I don't know why I thought snow would be the consistency of clouds. Luckily, I'm able to walk in Andrés's footsteps, but it feels like forever before the mass of hanging branches thins and we reach a clearing.
The snow is even deeper here, and some of it reaches to my knees. Andrés takes me to what looks like a plateau. The afternoon sun beats down on us as I survey our surroundings. It's breathtaking. Even though Andrés says these mountains are small in comparison to the ones he's seen in Afghanistan, I've never seen real live mountains before, and I'm in awe of the Sierra Nevada's tall pines and snowcapped peaks. There are barely any clouds in the pale sky, and I can hardly believe they had a winter storm here a few days ago.
Andrés tugs on my jacket sleeve, pulling me toward him as he bends down on one knee. "Lie down with me. We'll make snow angels."
A refusal is already forming on my lips, and the sad thing is I don't even know why. When I catch a glimpse of that boyish smile, I can't refuse.
I follow him down to the ground, and a chill races up my spine as I'm enveloped in snow. I've made sand angels at the beach, so I think I already know what to do, but I soon discover there's a big difference between the two. My head feels numb from frost by the time we're finished sweeping our arms and legs up and down. Unable to stand another minute of the hard, cold ground, I sit up, and Andrés dusts off the back of my head. I'm glad he convinced me to wear that knit hat, even though I protested that it plastered my hair to my head.
I look over my shoulder, at the two angels touching wingtip to wingtip. I smile when I see the impression of us, but then my smile fades when dark thoughts invade the moment.
I look into Andrés's eyes as he brushes crystals off my cheek. "Do you think our baby is an angel?"
"I know it." He taps my nose, flashing a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "No more sadness, mija. Okay?"
I swallow what feels like a wad of cotton and nod. "Okay."
He leans closer, until our lips are nearly touching, his minty breath tickling my skin. "And no more sad faces, or you get an ice wedgie."
I sway toward him, like the branches of a pine bending beneath the weight of heavy snow. Something inside me tells me I should resist. I should hold back. But why? Why have I been trying to put distance between us this past month? Why have I been fighting our desire? Our love? Am I trying to punish Andrés or me or both of us? That small voice inside of me grows louder, telling me it's okay to feel again. It's okay to stop torturing us.
I cup his chiseled jaw in my hand and brush frozen flakes off the two-day stubble. "What's an ice wedgie?" I ask with a playful smile.
"Something my cousins used to do to me when we'd go skiing. You don't want to know what it feels like." Andrés leans back, smirking.
I sigh, missing his body's warmth. I have no idea why, but this evil plan formulates in my head, and I act on it without thinking. I imagine that little devil on my shoulder is doing a victory dance while the angel on the other shoulder is sleeping on the job.
"Does it feel like this?" I press a hand against his chest and brush my lips across his. My mouth is so frozen, I can barely feel what I'm doing, but when he presses deeper into me for a kiss, instinct takes over and I welcome his mouth's invasion. I pick up a handful of snow and dump it down the back of his jacket.
He yelps and swats my hand away. I jump up with surprising speed when I see him grab snow. I try to run back the way we came, but my feet get stuck in the frozen quicksand before I have time to dodge his snowball. He tumbles into my backside, bringing me down with him. Somehow, he manages to spin me toward him, so he breaks our fall. I land on his chest, and we both burst out laughing.