Daphne had worn his sweater. It carried the scent of her hair, her skin. It was like being wrapped in her arms. He pressed the sweater to his nose and inhaled deeply. Her scent filled his senses and even after he removed the sweater away from his nose, he could still imagine the scent of her. It was absolute heaven.

He slipped the sweater over his head and came down the stairs with a smile on his face. Daphne was still working on the puzzle and her progress was quite impressive.

"Any progression on the mystery?" He moved closer to her, smiling at the familiarity of the way she was so diligently working. It was exactly the way Frasier and his dad would have suggested. Start at the center and work outwards.

Without looking up, she continued putting pieces together. "Well, there was a broken vase next to the body as well as a broken picture frame with a large piece of glass that is somehow unaccounted for. Of course they could be red herrings, or-." She looked up, her surprised expression frozen on her face. He couldn't blame her, though. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd worn a sweater in her presence.

"O-or not." She finished her voice unsteady. Dare he hope that she find him attractive? Just the idea of it made his heart sing.

"C-could be." His voice seemed quiet, even more so than usual.

"I hope that we can finish this before we leave tonight." She remarked.

If ever there was an opportunity to rid himself of his cowardly demeanor, this was it. "Yes." He leaned forward, but his feet did not move. "Um, actually I was thinking that we could leave tomorrow morning."

She gasped, staring at him in disbelief. "Um, sure. It would give us more time to finish the puzzle."

"That's true, but-are you in any hurry to get back?"

"Not at all."

It was nearly impossible not to smile, but somehow he managed to do so. "Um, great. I need to… um… check something by the lake. I won't be long. Will you be all right?"

"I'll be fine."

He was out the door within seconds, eager to get some fresh air. The cold wind hit him square in the face and he winced. But he couldn't go back inside. Not just yet. Why had Daphne worn his sweater? And when? Was it yesterday afternoon when they'd arrived? Perhaps last night or even this morning? And then more pressing questions came. Was her room (his room) too cold? Damn, he should have shown her where the extra blankets were. What was wrong with him? But as selfish as it sounded, he was grateful that he'd forgotten his manners in not showing her the extra blankets. For if he had, she would not have found his sweater.

He started down the path, but then lost his balance, causing him to slip. The unexpected movement scared him but it only lasted a few seconds. He needed to keep moving.

The wedding band was firmly on his finger. He had put it there when he'd left the cottage, even when his thoughts were on Daphne. He walked to the end of the pier and stared out at the lake. Thin sheets of ice had begun to form around the edges, but the cold wind barely ruffled the water. This lake and the mountains that surrounded it were part of the most beautiful place in the world, and he'd seen more of the world than most people. Or at least it seemed that way.

With the ring on his finger and the sweater that carried Daphne's scent around his shoulders, guilt threatened to tear him apart. He took another deep breath. He'd only been down this path a few times before. And that was a few times more than Maris, due to her surprisingly understandable fear of wooden walkways.

He wondered what Frasier would think of his unplanned proposal to Mel, but he realized that he didn't have to wonder. He knew exactly what his older brother would say. Niles knew damn well what Frasier thought about Mel and it was time that he admitted it to himself. Mel was a rope that had been thrown down to him as he began to drown in a sea of despair. The sea of Daphne. Daphne, whom he had lost with one offer of stars.

He slipped the golden wedding band off of his finger. There was no sense in putting it off any longer. He didn't love Mel and frankly he wasn't sure that he ever did. The spontaneous proposal had been a mistake; he knew that now. He realized suddenly that he hadn't spoken to Mel at all since he'd left her at the airport. Cell phone service at the cabin was spotty at best, but the truth was that he hadn't given any thought at all to calling Mel since he and Daphne had arrived. However, he vowed to call her tonight.

He looked out at the shimmering lake once more. The ring in his hand, he envisioned throwing it as far as he could, watching it sail through the air and then landing in the water with a small splash.

And then it would be over. He glanced at the inscription again.

L-O-V-E

It was funny how powerful that word was, and how much it could change things. He knew who he loved.

And it was not Mel.

With tense muscles, he drew back his hand, aiming at the far end of the lake. He was no ball player of any kind and the ring, at his best effort, would hardly go ten feet. But at least it would be gone.

There was no turning back. He thought of Mel. He thought of Daphne. He thought about the hope and dreams he'd had when he'd proposed to Mel, as if doing so would make him realize that he did truly love her.

But it did not.

He slipped the ring back into his pocket. He pulled off the sweater. Icy wind shot through his clothes like needles as though waiting for the chance to attack. He held out his hand. The result would be the same if he threw it at full force or if he merely uncurled his fingers and let the ring splash into the water below.
But his fingers held tightly to the ring, refusing to open. He could not do it.

He looked back toward the cabin. Daphne was there, waiting for him. It was time to go back to her.

Nothing else mattered.