The Hygge Suite

The drive to Vermont took five hours.

Elena spent the first two trying to quiz Ben on their "backstory."

"Okay, so we met in Mrs. Higgins’ class," Elena said, scrolling through her iPad. "Our first date was senior prom. You proposed on..."

"El," Ben interrupted, turning down the volume on the Taylor Swift playlist he had insisted on. "Relax. We don't need a script. We lived it."

"But we need to be romantic," Elena stressed. "Lars needs to see chemistry. Do you think we have chemistry?"

Ben gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. "I think we can fake it."

They arrived at the Silverleaf Mountain Resort just as the sun was setting behind the snowy peaks. It was disgustingly picturesque. The main lodge was a massive structure of timber and stone, glowing with golden light. Smoke curled from stone chimneys. It looked like a Christmas card that cost two thousand dollars a night.

Elena marched to the front desk, Ben trailing behind with their bags.

"Check-in for Vance," Elena said to the concierge, a woman wearing a heavy cable-knit sweater.

"Ah, yes. Ms. Vance and Mr. Miller. Welcome to Silverleaf. We have you in the Hygge Suite."

"Perfect," Elena said. "Two keys, please."

"Here you are." The concierge handed over two wooden key cards. "Just so you know, the resort is fully booked this weekend due to the blizzard warning. You were lucky to get the last suite."

"Blizzard?" Elena frowned.

"Very romantic," Ben piped up, slinging an arm around Elena’s shoulders. She stiffened, then forced herself to lean into him. "Nothing like being snowed in, right, honey?"

Elena patted his chest awkwardly. "Right. Honey."

They navigated the snowy path to their private cabin. The "Hygge Suite" was exactly what *Nook* aspired to sell. Exposed beams, a roaring gas fireplace, faux fur rugs everywhere.

And a bed.

One bed.

It was a king, admittedly. A massive, four-poster wooden structure piled high with duvets. But it was singular.

Elena dropped her bag. "Oh no."

Ben closed the door behind him, locking out the biting cold. He looked at the bed. He looked at Elena.

"The classic trope," Ben noted dryly. "There was only one bed."

"I can call the front desk," Elena reached for her phone. "They must have a cot."

"They said they’re fully booked, El. And Lars is probably staying in the cabin next door. If he sees us asking for a cot, the jig is up."

Elena groaned, rubbing her temples. "Okay. Fine. We’re adults. We’ve slept in the same room before."

"When we were seven," Ben pointed out. "At a sleepover. And I peed the sleeping bag."

"Please don't do that tonight."

"I make no promises." Ben walked over to the bed and poked the mattress. "It’s memory foam. Nice."

He turned to her, his expression softening. "El, seriously. It’s fine. I’ll take the left side. We can build a pillow wall. The Great Wall of Benji."

Elena looked at him. He was wearing a beanie that pushed his hair down in a chaotic, adorable way. He looked entirely at home in this rustic luxury, while she felt like an intruder in her sleek black coat.

"You're a good friend, Ben," she said quietly.

"The best," he agreed, picking up his suitcase. "Now, come on. I saw a Jacuzzi tub in the bathroom and I intend to steal all the tiny soaps."

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