I press my gloved hand to the screen, right where his heart would be. "I'm here," I whisper, and I can almost feel his smile through the barrier between us.
"Always," he answers, and I know it's a promise.
I hand my note to Meredith so she can hand it to Bash.
She disappears behind the screen for a split second and then reappears holding his note for me and I eagerly take it.
"On three?" he suggests.
"On three." I say.
"One." I start.
"Two," he continues.
"Three," we say together.
I slide my finger under the seal, careful not to tear the creamy paper. His handwriting greets me, neat and strong with those little hooks on the capital letters I've come to recognize instantly on his notes left on the bathroom mirror, tucked into my suitcase when I travel for work, or slipped into my jacket pocket when I need encouragement.
My Dearest Shortcake,
It's 2 a.m., and I'm sitting in our cabin while you sleep, trying to find words worthy of what you mean to me. Tyler says I should keep it simple, but when has anything about us ever been simple? One year ago, you asked me to pretend to be in love with you. The irony is, I never had to pretend at all. I fell for you that first night at the bar, when you wore that green dress and looked at me like I was trouble (you were right). I fell harder when you stormed out of your office to show me mine after you first learned we were colleagues, and you tried so hard to hate me. I fell completely when you asked me to fake being your boyfriend and I realized I'd been given a second chance I didn't deserve. But it wasn't until Aspen until I saw you face your past with grace, laugh with my sister, build a lopsided snowman, and shred powder down a mountainside that I understood what it means to truly love someone. To see them clearly and want them anyway. To want them because of who they are, not despite it. You're brave when it counts. Stubborn when you're right. Passionate about your work. Fiercely loyal to those you love. And occasionally a terrible liar, like when you pretended not to enjoymy pancakes that morning after our fight in the woods. I knew I was going to marry you the day you had that allergic reaction. Not because I had to rush through the snow to get your EpiPen (though I'd do it again in a heartbeat), but because in that moment, I couldn't imagine a world without you in it. I couldn't imagine not hearing you laugh, or watching you roll your eyes at my bad jokes, or feeling you curl against me in your sleep. Today, I'm promising you forever, but the truth is, forever wouldn't be enough. I want lifetimes with you, Charlie. I want decades of adventures and quiet moments. I want to build a home and a family and a life where you never doubt for a second how deeply you are loved. So yes, I'll stand up there and say the traditional vows. But know that I'm also silently promising a few other things: I promise to make you coffee exactly the way you like it, even when you claim you're "cutting back." I promise to let you steal the covers, but I reserve the right to warm my cold feet on your legs in retaliation. I promise to kiss you at least once a day in a way that makes you forget your own name. I promise to never miss an opportunity to remind you how beautiful you are. Whether you're dressed like today, or in one of my old t-shirts, or in nothing at all (especially then). I promise to be your biggest fan, your safe harbor, your adventure companion, and occasionally, your reality check. And I promise to never stop trying to win you over, every single day, just like I did on this mountain a year ago. I love you, Charlotte Whitaker. Soon-to-be Charlotte Montgomery (I'm getting hard just thinking about your name). Thank you for letting me into your heart, even when I didn't deserve it. Thank you for fighting for us when I got scared.Thank you for believing that what we have is real. Because it is. It always was.
All my love,
Your Bash
P.S. – I hope you don't mind, but I packed something special for tonight. Let's just say it involves that green dress from the night we met and absolutely nothing else. Just for old times' sake.
I press the letter to my chest, tears flowing freely now. Through the screen, I hear a suspiciously thick chuckle from him.
"You're crying too, aren't you?" I call out.
"Absolutely not," he lies, his voice cracking slightly. "Pro snowboarders don't cry."
"Liar." I laugh through my tears.
"Maybe a little," he admits. "Your words, Charlie... they got me."
Meredith hands me a tissue, careful not to let my mascara run.
"Charlie?" Bash calls through the screen. "Did you mean what you wrote? About that night in the snow?"
My mind goes back to what I'd written. How I knew I loved him when he found me in the woods after our fight. How terrified I'd been of trusting him but even more terrified of losing him. How I'd almost let my fears ruin the best thing that ever happened to me.
"Every word," I promise.
"Good." His voice is closer now. "Because I've never been more sure of anything in my life than marrying you today."
I reach around the screen, hand outstretched. My fingers tremble slightly, whether from cold or emotion, I can't tell anymore.
"Bash?" My voice comes out as barely more than a whisper.
His warm hand finds mine instantly, strong fingers intertwining with my own. The touch grounds me, makes everything real in a way that even the dress and the decorations haven't managed to do.
"I love you," I say, squeezing his hand.
"I love you too, Shortcake." His voice is rough with emotion, and I can picture exactly how he looks right now—that soft vulnerability in his eyes that he shows only to me, the slight crinkle at the corners, the way his mouth curves into that smile that's somehow both cocky and tender. "Always will."
