My jaw drops. “That’s not true!”

“Isn’t it? ’Cause I don’t know anymore.” He smooths his hands over his face. “I picked up my life and moved away from what I knew, too. It might not be the same, but it’s still a change. Agnes, Mabel … they’re like my family, and they’re all the way on the other side of the state. I barely talk to them. And, while this might not be the ideal spot for you, you’re either in all the way or you’re not in it at all. And if you’re not even willing to try to build a real life for yourself here with me, then …” His words trail.

And my stomach plummets. “Then what?” I manage to get out in a strangled voice.

He swallows and a pained look fills his eyes. “Look, I know I said we’d find somewhere else if Alaska doesn’t work, but when I said that, I assumed you’d at least try here first.”

“I am trying!”

He shakes his head. “No, Calla, I think you came here wanting to try, but you’re so hung up on not being your mother that you can’t seem to figure out a way to be yourself.”

Boisterous voices fill the air as a group of five pours out the door from the Ale House.

Jonah sighs, lowering his voice. “As far as Marie goes, you either don’t trust me—”

“I do! I swear, I do, Jonah. It’s her I don’t trust.”

“She hasn’t done anything wrong, Calla. You’re being insecure, and I have no fucking idea why. Haven’t I always been crystal clear about my feelings for you?”

“That’s not what this is about—”

“You embarrassed her tonight, and you did it intentionally.”

A flicker of guilt stirs deep inside, somewhere beneath my jealousy.

“I thought you were better than that.” He turns and heads toward my Jeep without waiting for me, his shoulders sagging as if weighed down by a terrible burden.

I trail behind, wiping away tears even as fresh ones trickle, my resentment with Jonah over his claim that I haven’t tried to make this work swelling with each step. What will convince him otherwise? What will I have to do?

Learn to fly a plane?

Hunt and cook my own kill?

Have his babies?

No, thank you.

Not a chance in hell.

Not yet.

Or maybe I’ll never be able to convince him that I tried. Maybe that’ll be his excuse no matter what, when this all falls apart and he refuses to leave Alaska. This is beginning to feel like the fine print in our relationship contract that I somehow missed before I signed on.

We’re almost at the Jeep when Jonah stops abruptly. “So, that day when me and Marie were talking in the hangar … You heard everything?” I see it in his eyes—he’s playing back the conversation, trying to pick through what all was said. How much does he remember of it?

Me? I remember it, almost word for word.

Not trusting my voice, I meet his gaze and nod.

Yes, I know about the ring—I’ve even seen it.

Yes, I know you were going to propose that day at the safety cabin.

Yes, I’m aware that it’s been six weeks since then and you haven’t.

A curse slips from Jonah’s lips. “I don’t know what to tell you except …” He peers out at the trees, lost in a moment’s thought. “I don’t think we’re ready for that yet.”

“Yeah, I agree.” And, after today, I have to wonder if we ever will be.

Wiping my cheeks and pressing my lips together, I ready a fake smile for Diana as we climb into the Jeep.

She’s curled up in the backseat, snoring softly.

“She’s heavier than she looks.” Jonah eases down our narrow hallway with an unconscious Diana cradled in his arms, her long blonde tendrils dangling like a thick curtain halfway to the floor. I tried waking her when we pulled up to our house only minutes after leaving the Ale House, but she didn’t stir.

“Don’t tell her that,” I warn, yanking the bed linens down.

He sets her down gently and then backs away. I move in to slip off her boots and socks—she can’t sleep with socks on because they make her feet sweaty—before drawing her blanket over her.

Jonah is silent as he watches me unfasten her earrings and slide her bracelet off her limp wrist—jewelry is another irritant for her—and set them in the porcelain dish I bought especially for this purpose. I sense him wanting to say something, but for once, he keeps his thoughts to himself.

I get to her engagement ring and pause on it for a long moment.

Have she and Aaron ever had a fight that left her feeling this bleak?

“You want me to grab her a glass of water?” Jonah asks, his voice grating in the quiet house.

“No, thanks. I’ll get it.” I’m emotionally and physically exhausted and I want to be alone to try to make sense of my muddled thoughts.

“Calla, I …” His words drift. “I’ll be up soon. Get some sleep, okay? We can talk more in the morning.”

Can’t wait.

I take my time readying for bed, and when I slip downstairs to fetch water for both Diana and myself, I spy Jonah standing on the porch, his phone pressed to his ear. Who could he be talking to at this hour?

Marie, likely.

My irritation flares. Is he divulging more about the weakest points of our relationship, after we literally just finished fighting about him doing this? Is this the way it’ll always be? We’ll have problems and he’ll run off to talk about them with her instead of trying to work them out with me first?

This is beginning to feel like a test.

One we might not pass.

I can’t help but think …

Maybe it’s kismet that a pregnancy scare hijacked Jonah’s plans for that day, and that our plane almost crashed, forcing his introduction to Sam.

Maybe it’s a blessing that I overheard his conversation with Marie about jobs he was turning down.

And maybe it is for the best that I pushed him to accept work he would end up loving.

Because otherwise, where would we be right now? I’d be consumed with planning for a wedding and helping Jonah build The Yeti. Jonah would be faithfully sticking close by and flying, but not loving what he was doing.

And then what?

How long before he grew restless doing supply runs and playing tourist guide, began resenting me for keeping him pinned down by a promise, and confessed his unhappiness? Of course, I’d tell him to do what he loves, and he’d seek out a similar job as the one he has with Sam. The Yeti would fall by the wayside in summer months without its pilot, and I’d be left wondering what to do with myself during the long days. We’d end up exactly back here down the road, only with years and marriage vows between us.

So maybe that all this is happening now is for the best.

On my way back upstairs, I pass the curio cabinet that arrived a few weeks ago. Only one piece sits inside at the moment—Ethel’s ivory sculpture. It catches my eye and I stall there a long moment, studying it.

Perhaps Ethel’s tale of the raven and his goose wife isn’t inaccurate after all.

I manage to keep my composure until I’m tucked beneath our bedcovers, alone. And then I muffle my sobs with my pillow, feeling for the first time since last summer that my relationship with Jonah is surviving on borrowed time.