"Show us where that's written in the rules," Emily challenges.
"It's implied," Olivia adds, her voice tight.
"Actually," my mother interjects with the authority only a former elementary school librarian can muster, "the only rule is that the mistletoe must be hung somewhere on the property. There's nothing that says it can't be mobile."
"The drone is within property boundaries," Bash points out reasonably, taking the empty seat beside me.
"I think it's inspiring," Mrs. Harper says, surprising everyone. She's usually quick to side with Ethan on everything. "Very twenty-first century."
"Then it's settled," Dad announces. "Sebastian and Charlotte win the challenge and the champagne."
I lean over to Bash while everyone's attention is on my father. "Where did you even get a drone?"
"I have my ways," he whispers back. "Worth it to see the look on Ethan's face."
I glance over at him, who's now having a hushed, tense conversation with Olivia.
The drone is still hovering above the table and Bash manipulates the controls until it's positioned directly over us.
"Your turn, Shortcake," he murmurs.
Before I can respond, he leans in and kisses me—softly at first, then with growing intensity that makes me forget we have an audience. His hand cradles my cheek, and I melt into him.
Someone, whose name is Emily, wolf-whistles, breaking the moment. I pull back, a little dazed, to find everyone watching us with varying expressions: my parents looking pleased, Emily smirking, Mrs. Harper smiling warmly, and Ethan staring with poorly-disguised envy.
"If that's the appetizer," Mom says, rising from her seat, "I should probably serve the main course before things get too spicy out here."
Everyone laughs, the tension broken, and conversations resume as Mom heads inside to check on dinner.
Bash lands the drone on an empty corner of the table and sets the controller aside. "Was that okay?" he asks quietly.
I smile, feeling lighter than I have in months. "It was perfect. But you realize Emily's going to demand drone-flying lessons now."
"Small price to pay," he says, his eyes never leaving mine.
Dad approaches, clapping Bash on the shoulder. "That was impressive engineering, son. Where'd you learn to fly that thing?"
As Bash launches into an explanation about using drones for action sports filming, I sit back and watch him charm my father. He fits so naturally into my family, into my life. The thought no longer terrifies me the way it did at the beginning of this trip.
What scares me now is the inevitable end—returning to reality, to work, to all the complications waiting for us back home. But as Bash glances over at me mid-conversation, his eyes crinkling at the corners, I make a decision.
I'm done worrying about what comes next. For now, I'll enjoy this moment—the laughter, the food, the company, and especially the man who brought a drone to a mistletoe fight just to make me smile.
Chapter thirty-one
Bash
I stand at the bathroom sink next to Charlie, both of us working through our nighttime routines. There's something deeply intimate about watching her brush her teeth in my old Colorado State t-shirt that hangs halfway down her thighs. Her hair's pulled up in a messy bun, face scrubbed clean of makeup, and she's never looked more beautiful.
My phone buzzes on the counter. Tyler's name flashes on the screen, and before I can reach for it, Charlie grabs it.
"Hello, Tyler," she says, putting it on speaker. "Sebastian is currently occupied with dental hygiene and I don't believe we've been properly introduced."
"Well hello, Ms. Whitaker," Tyler's voice booms through the speaker. "Has my best friend been on his best behavior? Or do I need to apologize for the ten years I've spent enabling him?"
Charlie laughs, the sound bouncing off the tile walls. "I'm still deciding. The drone with mistletoe was pretty impressive, though."
"Drone with mistletoe?" Tyler sounds delighted. "Montgomery, you romantic bastard. Did you steal that idea from our college prank playbook?"
