"We're already checked in. I came up earlier to take care of that and get some stuff ready," he tells her, which makes him feel kind of stupid now, like maybe it was just misplaced eagerness.

The car pulls up to the main entrance of the lodge, and Steve lets go of Maeve's hand to slide out of the car, waiting for her to join him before waving the guy off. The doors slide open automatically to let them into the entry hall, and Steve just feels awkward. He imagined them tipsy and happy by this point, unable to keep their hands off of each other.

As they wait for the elevator, Steve pulls out his wallet to extract the key card, flipping it nervously between his fingers. The trip to the room seems to take forever, silence dragging on and on, and he's both relieved and even more nervous as he lets them into the room. It's a small suite, one where the tub is visible from the bed but in a classy, sexy sort of way, he thinks. Not sleazy.

There's a bottle of champagne chilling in the mini fridge, and some bath stuff he left on the corner of the tub, and he's now glad that he didn't go with something a little more showy. After flipping on the lights, he shrugs out of his blazer to toss it into a wing-backed chair near the window. He catches a glimpse of his reflection in the glass, and the snowy landscape beyond, and then turns to look at Maeve with a helpless shrug.

Merry Christmas, he thinks, but he doesn't say it.