Some of you may have read the rest of this story before; I wrote it last year when snowed in. When the snow disappeared, so did my inspiration, and despite numerous requests throughout the year to continue the story, it didn't feel right writing about snow in the middle of summer. But now, it is winter – snow has come again (although it has melted again where I am too) and it has been just over a year since the rest of the story was written. I now give you the FINAL part of Snow Day. Enjoy, and thank you to everyone who commented on this story along the way :-)
Gillian was humming absent-mindedly to herself as she straightened the sofa cushions and put the magazines on the coffee table into a neat pile. She was just about to go into the kitchen to boil the kettle when she heard Cal's voice shouting to her from upstairs.
"What?" she called, unable to hear exactly what he was saying.
A minute later he appeared, gesturing wildly at the window. "Snow! It's snowing, Gill, have you looked outside?"
"It is?" Her face lit up as she hurried to the living room window, smiling at the sight of delicate snowflakes gently falling from the sky. "So it is."
Cal stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her neck. "Do you know what day it is today, Gill?"
She turned in his arms, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Is it a special day?"
He sighed. "It's been a year, Gill. One year exactly since we had that terrible snow, and I came to see you, and we got snowed in..."
"And built a snowman," she remembered, smiling.
"And ate gingerbread men..."
"And watched The Sound of Music," she continued. "That was a good day."
"Of course it was." He traced a finger lightly over her lips. "Day we got together, wasn't it? Me, half drunk on wine and cider, you with your hair all smelling of papaya..."
"Guava," she corrected, and he grinned.
"Of course I remember." She leant forward to kiss him, her hands finding his. "That was a fantastic day. I beat you at Snap."
"Oh, that was the best thing about that day, was it?"
"It meant that I got to see you sledging in the street the next day. That was fun." She giggled. "I've still got the photo somewhere."
"Yeah, alright, let's forget about that," he said quickly. "Point is, it's our anniversary. And it's snowing."
She smiled. "Happy anniversary, Cal."
"Happy anniversary, Gill." He kissed her again, still holding onto her hands. "So, how do you want to celebrate?"
She turned to look out the window, then returned her gaze to Cal and gave him a meaningful look.
"Not enough snow for a snowman yet, love."
She pouted. "I suppose you're right. So, we'll have to recreate something else from that day..."
"Hot spiced cider," Cal said, at the exact same moment Gillian said, "Hot chocolate."
She laughed. "Works for me."
She tried to step past him to the kitchen, but he caught hold of her wrist, pulling her back into him. "You know what else we could do that would be... traditional."
"Mm," she murmured. "I do."
Then: "The Sound of Music," she said, at the same time Cal said "sex on the couch."
She considered this. "We could do both."
"Oh, Gill, really. Nuns and children shouldn't see that."
She laughed. "Perhaps I can be persuaded to skip the film. If you make it worth my while."
"Have no doubt about that," he told her, his seductive gaze fixed firmly on her, and she felt her breathing start to quicken, just like it always did around him, even after a year.
"Want the drinks first?" she asked, and he scoffed.
"What do you think?"
"I think 'no'," she laughed. She was just about to kiss him again when he stepped away, drawing the curtains and blocking the light from the room.
"Cal, what are you..."
"We had a blackout, love, if you remember."
"I do remember," she said, her voice filled with amusement.
"Right then." He flopped on the couch, finding her eyes in the darkness and giving her a wolfish grin. "Let's see what else we can recreate about our first snow day then."
She smiled as she walked to join him on the sofa, pressing her body against his and finding his lips with her own. "Let's."
An hour later, they were snuggled on the sofa under a blanket, Gillian holding a mug of hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, while Cal had his spiced apple cider. "A toast," he declared, holding his mug up to Gillian's. "To us."
"To us," she echoed. "And, to snow."
He clinked his mug against hers, smiling at her in the semi darkness. "To snow."