"Of course not," I say, grateful for the buffer of their company after the emotional whiplash of the evening.
As we gather our coats and say our goodbyes, Bash helps me into my jacket, his hands lingering on my shoulders. "You okay?" he asks softly, for my ears only.
I nod, leaning back against his chest for a moment. "Better than okay, actually. For the first time, I really don't care what Ethan thinks."
"Good." His lips brush my temple. "Because like I’ve said before, he's an idiot."
"A complete idiot," I agree, turning to face him. "Thank you for not punching him, by the way. Though I wouldn't have blamed you."
"Don't thank me yet. The night's still young." His eyes crinkle with that smile I'm coming to crave. "But I figured the waiter wouldn't appreciate bloodstains on the tablecloth."
I laugh, feeling lighter already. "Always so considerate."
Outside, the night air is crisp and clean, snowflakes beginning to drift lazily from the dark sky. They catch the glow of the streetlamps. Bash's hand finds mine, warm and solid, his fingers intertwining with my own as we crunch across the freshly dusted sidewalk toward the car.
Behind us, I can hear Sarah's exasperated mom-voice clearly rising above the hushed winter ambiance as she scolds Addie for attempting to immortalize our dinner drama on social media.
"No Instagram, no TikTok, no Snapchat, no whatever-else-you-use that I'm too old to know about," Her tone firm. "That's their family drama, not content for your followers."
"But Moooooom," Addie whines. "I could go viral! Do you know how many views 'Hot Uncle Nearly Causes Scene with New Girlfriends Cheating Ex' would get? I'm just saying, it's premium content."
Their bickering fades into the background as Bash tugs me slightly closer, his thumb still tracing small circles on the back of my hand. He leans down, his breath warm against my ear as he squeezes my fingers gently.
"Let's get you back home, Shortcake," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that I feel more than hear.
Home. The word reverberates through me, settling somewhere deep in my chest. It feels right in a way I hadn't expected—warm and certain, like steppinginto a room I've always been meant to find, and I know this whole situation is starting to be entirely too real.
Chapter twenty-four
Charlie
The drive back to the house is quiet but comfortable. Sarah and Addie talk in the backseat about their plans for tomorrow while Bash keeps one hand on the wheel and the other firmly clasped in mine. I stare out the window, watching the snowflakes dance in the headlights, and try not to overthink whatever this is between us.
When we pull up to the house, all the windows are dark except for the porch light my parents always leave on and the house feels more intimate without the usual bustle.
We climb out of the car, boots crunching in fresh snow. Addie yawns dramatically as we trudge up the steps. The door swings open to reveal the darkened entryway, quiet and waiting.
I flick the foyer light on.
"I'm beat," Sarah announces as we hang our coats in the mudroom. "Driving through those mountain passes took it out of me."
"And I need to post—I mean, journal about today's events," Addie adds, avoiding her mother's knowing look.
"Journaling. Right." Sarah rolls her eyes good-naturedly. "Just remember our talk about oversharing other people's business."
"I know, I know. Goodnight, Uncle Bash." Addie gives him a quick hug, then surprises me by hugging me too. "Night, Charlie. I'm glad you're not with potato-brain anymore."
I laugh, caught off guard by her bluntness. "Thanks, Addie. So am I."
"Well, we'll see you two in the morning," Sarah says, giving Bash a look I can't quite decipher. "Don't stay up too late."
We watch them head upstairs, and suddenly the house feels very empty and very quiet. Bash turns to me, his eyes reflecting the soft glow from the porch light filtering through the windows.
"Nightcap?" I suggest, needing something to do with my hands. "I think my dad has some peppermint schnapps we could add to hot chocolate."
"Lead the way, Shortcake."
In the kitchen, I busy myself with heating milk on the stove while Bash leans against the counter, watching me with an intensity that makes my skin tingle. I focus on stirring the milk to keep it from scalding, hyperaware of his presence.
