Chapter 16 #2
I peer through the door she indicates and feel my eyebrows shoot up.
The bathroom stretches before me, marble gleaming under recessed lighting.
A deep soaking tub nestles beneath a window framed by gauzy curtains, while steam could practically billow through a glass-walled shower spacious enough to host a small party.
My reflection bounces back from dual sinks embedded in a marble vanity that spans an entire wall, its surface dotted with high-end toiletries.
"This is insane," I laugh, shaking my head as I wander back into the bedroom. "How long did you say your family's been doing this trip?"
"Since before Em and I were born.” She says, perched on the edge of the bed. "So, more than thirty years. It used to be just a long weekend, but it's grown over time."
A beat of silence falls between us, and suddenly the elephant in the room—or more specifically, the bed in the room—becomes impossible to ignore.
Charlie clears her throat. "So, about sleeping arrangements..."
"I can take the floor," I offer immediately. "Or that couch by the window looks comfortable."
"Don't be ridiculous," she says, though I notice she won't quite meet my eyes. "The bed is enormous. We can just... stay on our sides. Like adults."
"Are you sure? I could probably snag some extra pillows and make a barrier down the middle. A DMZ for bedtime."
That gets a laugh out of her. "I think we can manage without turning the bed into the 38th parallel." She stands, running fingers through her hair. "I really need a shower. I always feel gross after flying."
"Want company?" The words slip out before I can stop them, accompanied by my most charming grin.
Charlie fixes me with a deadpan stare, but I catch the slight twitch at the corner of her mouth. "You're pushing your luck, Montgomery."
"Worth a shot." I shrug, sitting down on the bed as she grabs her toiletry bag from her suitcase.
"I'll be quick," she says, disappearing into the bathroom.
A few minutes later, I hear the shower running, and a crack of the door lets out a cloud of steam carrying the unmistakable scent of her shampoo.
The familiar smell hits me with surprising force—it's the same scent that hit me while we were dancing, the same scent I woke up to that morning. The morning I panicked.
I shake off the memory and busy myself with unpacking, trying not to think about Charlie naked in that massive shower just a few feet away.
"So," her voice comes through the partially open door, raised slightly over the sound of running water. "About tonight."
"What about it?" I call back, hanging one of my shirts in the closet.
"I should warn you about Ethan."
"Why? He's the one whose heart I'm going to fictitiously break by being so much better than him in every way."
The water shuts off. "Well, he can be... challenging."
"How so?"
"He's smart. Observant. And he has this way of making little comments that get under your skin without seeming outright rude." There's a pause, and I hear the sounds of a towel being unfurled. "Just don't let him bait you, okay?"
"Shortcake, I spent fifteen years with reporters trying to make me say something stupid after competitions. I think I can handle one finance bro."
"He's not just—" She stops. "Never mind. Just be prepared."
The bathroom door opens before I can respond, and my brain short-circuits.
She stands in the doorway wrapped in nothing but a fluffy white towel, another smaller one turbaned around her hair. Droplets of water still cling to her shoulders and collarbone, and her face is completely bare of makeup, slightly flushed from the heat of the shower.
"Holy shit," I murmur, the words escaping involuntarily.
She frowns. "What?" As she pats her face.
"Nothing, just—" I clear my throat. "You look absolutely beautiful right now."
Her eyes widen slightly, and a deeper flush spreads across her cheeks. For a moment, we just stare at each other, the air between us suddenly charged.
"I, um—I forgot my clothes," she points, breaking the spell as she moves toward her suitcase.
I force myself to look away, standing up too quickly. "I should shower too. Don't want to meet everyone smelling like an airplane."
She nods, not looking at me, clutching the towel more tightly around herself. "Right. Good idea."
I grab my toiletry bag and a change of clothes, brushing past her on my way to the bathroom.
The scent of her shampoo is much stronger up close, mixing with something that's just essentially her.
It takes every ounce of willpower not to stop, not to trace the water droplets on her shoulder with my fingertips and lick them away.
Instead, I close the bathroom door firmly behind me and lean against it, exhaling slowly.
This fake relationship might be the death of me.
The shower is as impressive as it looks—multiple jets, a rainfall showerhead, and enough room to do jumping jacks if I wanted to. I let the hot water pound against my shoulders, trying to clear my head.
What am I doing here? Playing boyfriend to a woman who clearly still has complicated feelings about me. Agreeing to meet everyone while pretending to be madly in love with her. Sharing a bed with her for a week straight.
It's insane. And yet...
The look on her face when I gave up my first class seat for her sister. The way she laughed during our drive. How she instinctively reached for my hand when her mother started asking about our first date. It all felt so natural, so right.
That's what scares me most, how easy it is to fall into this role with her. How much I'm already dreading the moment we have to drop the act.
I finish my shower, dry off, and put on jeans and a soft maroon Henley. Running a hand through my damp hair, I steel myself before opening the door.
Charlie's seated at a small vanity in the corner, her fingers working deftly with a makeup brush.
The emerald green sweater she has on hugs her curves, the rich color igniting the copper highlights in her auburn waves and casting a warm glow against her creamy skin.
Her slim black pants stretch down to bare feet still curled against the plush carpet as she leans closer to the mirror, dabbing just enough color to enhance rather than cover.
"Bathroom's all yours," I say, tossing my towel over a rack to dry.
She meets my eyes in the mirror. "Thanks. I'm almost ready." She puts down her mascara wand and turns to face me. "Listen, about Ethan—"
"Charlie." I cross the room and crouch down in front of her chair, taking her hands in mine. "I've got this. I've got you. Remember? Best fake boyfriend ever."
A smile tugs at her lips. "Right."
"Besides," I add, squeezing her hands gently, "I'm actually looking forward to meeting the idiot who was stupid enough to let you go."
Her smile falters for just a second, and I realize my mistake—I'm also that idiot, in a way. But before I can backtrack, she squeezes my hands back.
"Well, in that case," she says, standing up and pulling me with her, "let's go give him a show he'll never forget."
Charlie's fingers whisper against mine as we descend the stairs. I catch them between my own, weaving them together. Her eyes dart up to mine, widening for an instant, but she stays connected to me.
"Showtime," I murmur, my grip tightening ever so slightly around her hand.
We emerge into the sprawling great room where flames dance in the massive stone fireplace.
Beyond the wall of glass, mountains pierce the darkening sky, nature's masterpiece on display.
Copper pots dangle overhead in the kitchen, catching amber glints from the fire while marble countertops shimmer under the crisp lighting.
Everyone's gathered there, freshly showered and changed.
Emily's traded her travel clothes for a chunky cream sweater and leggings, her dark hair twisted into a low messy bun.
Margaret looks elegant in a cashmere turtleneck and tailored pants, silver jewelry catching the light as she moves.
Richard's dressed in what I'd call "mountain casual"—a button-down flannel and jeans.
"There you two are!" Margaret calls, spotting us. "Perfect timing. Dinner just arrived from Matsuhisa."
The kitchen island is covered with elegant black containers, the delicious scent of high-end Japanese food filling the air.
"Need any help?" Charlie asks, releasing my hand to join her mom and sister.
Emily immediately loops an arm through Charlie's, pulling her toward the kitchen. "Yes, mom ordered way too much food, per usual."
"Sebastian," Richard calls, beckoning me toward the living room area. "Come take a look at this view before it gets completely dark."
I catch Charlie's eye as I follow her father in the open family room space, and she gives me a subtle smile that says she's okay. I can hear the women's voices and laughter from the kitchen as Richard leads me towards the windows.
"Quite something, isn't it?" he says, gesturing at the mountains silhouetted against the darkening sky, the last purple-orange glow of sunset fading behind them.
"It's incredible," I answer honestly. "I've competed in Aspen hundreds of times, but I was always too focused on the halfpipe to appreciate the views like this."
Richard smiles, hands in his pockets. "Charlie mentioned you were a professional. Snowboarding, right?"
"Yes, sir. Retired after blowing out my knee, but I was lucky enough to transition into the marketing side of things."
He nods appreciatively. "Smart move. Always good to have a backup plan."
There's a pause, and I can sense he's working up to something. I wait, watching as he adjusts his glasses.
"Sebastian, I hope you don't mind my prying, but I wanted to check in with you about this coming week." His voice drops, almost conspiratorial. "About the Ethan situation."
I keep my face carefully blank, though my jaw tightens slightly. "What about it, sir?"