"Good." Sarah's serious expression breaks with a smile. "Because if you do, I will fly down to Texas and beat you up."
I blink, startled by the sudden shift.
"I mean it," she adds, though her eyes are twinkling. "I'm very protective."
A surprised laugh escapes me. "Noted."
"I'm kidding," she says, then tilts her head. "Slightly."
"I believe you."
Sarah stands, stretching. "Addie and I need to head out in a few hours, so I should finish packing." She pauses at the door. "I'm glad he found you, Charlie. Fake relationship or not."
The door closes behind her, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the mountain view. The morning is still crisp, but the sun has warmed the air enough that I push the blanket away from my shoulders.
What started as a simple plan to save face in front of Ethan has become something far more complicated. When did it shift? Was it the snowboarding lesson, when Bash showed infinite patience while I fell over and over? The night by the fire pit, when he admitted why he'd left that morning? Or was it happening all along, from that first night at the club when we couldn't keep our eyes off each other?
I watch as Bash helps Sarah load the last of their bags into her car, his easy smile matching his sister's. Addie bounces around the driveway, snapping photos of the house, the mountains, and anything else that catches her eye. My parentshover nearby, exchanging contact information with Sarah and promising to visit Colorado sometime.
"We're definitely doing this again," my mom says, embracing Sarah. "You and Addie are always welcome to join us."
Sarah looks genuinely touched. "That would be lovely."
I step forward as they finish, opening my arms to Addie. "It was great meeting you."
She hugs me tight, then pulls back with a mischievous grin. "Try not to break my uncle. He's, like, surprisingly fragile for someone so tall."
"Addie!" Bash groans, but I can't help laughing.
"What? I'm just saying." She shrugs, the picture of teenage innocence. "Most guys are emotionally constipated, but Uncle Bash is especially bad at processing feelings. He needs, like, extra fiber or something."
"Oh my god." Bash covers his face with his hand while Sarah doesn't even try to hide her amusement.
"I'll keep that in mind," I promise Addie, fighting a smile.
She nods seriously. "Good. Because I actually like you, which is weird because I usually hate everyone." With that philosophical gem delivered, she climbs into the car and immediately pulls out her phone.
Sarah steps up next, wrapping me in a tight hug. I'm surprised by how much I'll miss her. In just two days, she's become someone I genuinely care about.
"Remember what we talked about," she whispers in my ear, her voice low enough that only I can hear. "I wasn't joking earlier. If you break his heart, I will absolutely hunt you down."
She pulls back, her expression warm but her eyes intense.
"He deserves someone who sees him," she continues softly. "Someone who isn't afraid to fight for him."
I swallow hard, nodding. "I know."
Sarah squeezes my hands once more before turning to say goodbye to my parents and Emily. The knot in my stomach tightens as I watch her embrace Bash last, whispering something that makes him roll his eyes but smile.
What am I doing? This whole thing started as a way to avoid humiliation in front of Ethan, but now—now I'm in so deep I can barely see daylight. The worst part is that it feels so natural with Bash, so easy, that I keep forgetting we have an expiration date.
In three days, we’ll fly home. The following week, we’ll return to our offices, where I'm still the project manager and he's still the consultant brought in to help with sports accounts. Whatever bubble we've created here will burst, and we'll both be left picking up the pieces.
Bash catches my eye across the driveway, his smile softening in a way that makes my heart ache. He thinks he wants this—wants me—but what happens when the fantasy ends? When there's no more pretending, no more playing house in a mountain paradise?
I can't be someone's vacation romance. Not when I already know how this story ends. We spend a week playing pretend, building memories in this snow-covered fairy tale, and then reality swoops in like a cold front. We go back to our lives with the forced smiles and awkward pleasantries and I'm left alone in the wreckage, trying to explain to my heart why it should have known better.
The thing about Bash is that he makes everything feel possible. When he looks at me with those icy blues, I almost believe I could be enough to make someone like him want to stay. And that's the most dangerous part about it all, not the falling, but the hope that comes with it. The treacherous little voice whispering that maybe this time is different, maybe he's different.
