Chapter 25 Bash #2
I wake up before my alarm, feeling more rested than I have in years despite last night's activities.
Charlie's curled against my side, her breathing deep and even, one leg thrown over mine and her hand resting on my chest. I watch her for a moment, the way her hair spills across the pillow, the slight part of her lips. And I’m instantly transported back to her apartment. Waking up in her bed. Leaving.
Fuck.
This wasn't part of the plan. None of it was.
Not the way my chest tightens when she smiles, not the way her laugh has become my favorite sound, not the fierce protectiveness I feel every time Ethan looks at her.
We were just supposed to make Ethan feel like a chump that lost an amazing woman, but things have escalated quickly and now I can't imagine going back to just being coworkers when this trip ends.
I carefully disentangle myself, tucking the blanket around her before slipping out of bed. She shifts and buries her face in my pillow, and I have to fight the urge to crawl right back in beside her.
Instead, I pull on sweatpants and a henley, running a hand through my bedhead before padding quietly downstairs.
The house is still silent, morning light filtering through the windows and catching on the mountains outside.
I pace the quiet kitchen, my mind racing.
The familiar urge to bail creeps up my spine.
The same instinct that made me slip out of her apartment.
But where would I even go? I'm in Colorado, in her family's house, with my sister and niece upstairs. There's nowhere to run this time.
My hands shake slightly as I open the refrigerator, staring blankly at its contents. This was supposed to be simple. Fake relationship, holiday charade, return to normal. Instead, I'm falling for her—hard—and the thought terrifies me.
"Focus, Montgomery," I mutter, pulling out eggs, bacon, and fresh berries.
Cooking. That's what I need. Something to do with my hands that isn't touching Charlie, something to occupy my mind that isn't imagining a future I'm not sure I deserve.
I find a box of pancake mix, milk, and measuring cups. Pancakes. Everyone loves pancakes.
By the time the coffee's brewing and bacon's sizzling, I've almost convinced myself I can handle this. The rhythm of flipping pancakes steadies my breathing. Maybe I don't need to run. Maybe, for once, I can stay and see what happens when I don't sabotage the best thing that's walked into my life.
I'm cracking eggs into a bowl when I hear footsteps on the stairs.
"Morning Uncle Bash," Addie says, shuffling into the kitchen in fuzzy socks and an oversized sweatshirt, her dark hair piled on top of her head. She looks about twelve instead of sixteen, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
"Hey, early bird. Coffee?"
She nods, sliding onto a stool at the island. "Mom says I'm only allowed one cup."
I pour her half a mug and slide it across to her with some creamer. "Our secret."
She grins, dumping in enough creamer to make my teeth hurt. "What are you making?"
"Thought I'd do a breakfast spread. Eggs, bacon, and pancakes." I say.
"Can I help?" She's already getting up, mug cradled in her hands.
"Sure. Want to mix up the pancake batter?"
She nods, suddenly more awake, and I hand her the box. We work in companionable silence for a few minutes, just the sound of eggs whisking and bacon sizzling between us.
"So," she says eventually, glancing up at me. "Charlie seems cool."
I try not to smile too wide. "She is."
"You like her a lot." It's not a question.
"Yeah, I do."
"Good." She's focused on measuring out the milk now. "She's not like those other girls you used to date."
I nearly choke on air. "Addie—"
"What?" She looks up, completely unrepentant. "Remember that one time you and mom were on the phone and the girl you were with thought Alaska was an island? Or the one who kept calling Mom 'Stephanie' even after Mom corrected her like three times?"
Christ. This kid doesn't miss a thing. "Charlie's different," I say, and I mean it more than she could possibly understand.
"I know." She stirs the batter with surprising intensity. "That's why I like her."
Before I can respond, Sarah appears in the space hair damp from a shower, smiling at the sight of us cooking together.
"Well, isn't this domestic," she says, helping herself to coffee. "What'd I miss?"
"Uncle Bash is in love," Addie announces.
My spatula clatters against the pan. "I never said—"
"You didn't have to." Addie shrugs. "It's obvious." She puts her Airpods in and blasts music.
Sarah laughs, taking a seat at the island. "Out of the mouths of babes." She studies me over the rim of her mug. "She's not wrong, though. I haven't seen you like this in... well, ever."
I turn back to the stove, flipping bacon with more focus than strictly necessary. "It's been a good trip."
"Mhmm." Sarah's quiet for a moment, letting that slide. "Are you happy, Bash?"
The question catches me off guard. I look over my shoulder at her, at the genuine concern in her eyes. "Yeah," I say, and I'm surprised by how true it is. "I am."
She nods, thoughtful. "Good. It's just... this isn't exactly your M.O., you know? Meeting the parents, playing house. I didn't think we'd ever see you bring a girl home, let alone tag along to her on a family vacation."
I sigh, lowering my voice even though Addie's absorbed in her pancake batter. "It's... complicated—."
"—You said that on the phone. Wanna explain?"
I check to make sure Addie's still occupied before continuing. "We work together, but before I started my job we had this one night—"
"Spare me the details," she interrupts, but she's smiling.
"I ghosted her."
Sarah's smile drops. "Sebastian Michael Montgomery."
"I know, I know. I fucked up." I run a hand through my hair. "Then I found out we'd be working together, and things got awkward, and then she needed someone to come with her on this trip because of Ethan and Olivia, and I—"
"Wait." She holds up a hand. "You're telling me this whole thing is supposed to be fake?"
I wince. "It started that way, yeah."
"Started?" Her eyebrows rise.
"It's not fake anymore." I turn back to the stove, moving bacon to a paper towel-lined plate. "Not anymore. At least, not for me."
"And for her?"
"I think... I think she feels the same way." I grab more eggs from the fridge. "When we're alone, it doesn't feel like pretending. It feels real. It feels right."
She's watching me with a mix of concern and amusement. "So you went from ghosting this girl to falling for her in the time span of what, two weeks?"
"I think I started falling for her even before the one-night stand," I admit quietly.
"Classic Sebastian," she sighs. "You know, for someone so good at physical risks, you're remarkably chicken shit when it comes to emotional ones."
"Thanks for the analysis, Dr. Phil."
She laughs. "Look, all I'm saying is, you've clearly got a good thing going here. Don't fuck it up with your commitment issues or whatever damage Dad left you with. Last night I saw how you looked at her, and how she looked at you. It looked like the real deal."
"I just..." I lower my voice further. "I don't want to be a rebound from her ex. Or worse, for this to still be fake and still just using me to make him jealous. I want to be sure she wants me for me, not as a prop in some revenge fantasy."
And that's when I hear it—the faintest creak on the stairs.
I turn, but there's no one there. Must have been my imagination.
"I think you're overthinking this," Sarah says, oblivious. "From what I've seen, she's as into you as you are into her. But if you're worried, just talk to her. Ask her where her head's at."
"The pancake batter's ready," Addie announces, sliding the bowl toward me. "And for the record, Charlie doesn't seem like she's faking anything. She looks at you like you hung the moon."
I stare at my niece.
"Thanks, kid, but I thought you were listening to your music?" I ruffle her hair, earning an eye roll. "Now help me with these pancakes."
By the time I've got a decent spread laid out, the rest of the house is waking up. Richard appears first, praising the "incredible smell" and helping himself to some coffee. Margaret follows, then Emily, who raises her eyebrows at me with a knowing smirk
Everyone grabs plates, piling them high with food, but there's still no sign of Charlie. I frown, looking toward the stairs.
"Charlie not up yet?" I ask, trying to sound casual.
Emily snorts into her coffee. "Yeah, I bet she's exhausted after last night."
Margaret looks up, fork paused halfway to her mouth. "Why would she be tired?"
"We were just up late," I say quickly, shooting Emily a warning look. "I'll go check on her, make sure she gets some breakfast before it's all gone."
I take the stairs two at a time, suddenly eager to see her. Maybe Sarah's right—maybe I am overthinking everything. Maybe what's between us is as real for her as it is for me.
I knock softly on the bedroom door. "You up, Shortcake?"
No answer.
I push the door open to find the bed empty but rumpled. The bathroom door is cracked, and I can hear water running. I lean against the doorframe, watching Charlie brush her teeth.
"Morning"
She jumps, toothbrush still in her mouth, then smiles around it. Her hair's a mess, my t-shirt hem skimming her upper thighs, and she's never looked better.
"Your mom mentioned something about a scavenger hunt with the Harpers today."
Charlie's eyes light up. She holds up a finger, spits into the sink, and rinses before turning to me with a gleam I'm starting to recognize—pure competition.
"The Christmas Scavenger Hunt." She grabs a hairbrush. "Teams of two, racing all over town for ridiculous holiday items. Winner gets a trophy and bragging rights for the year."
"Sounds fun."
"Oh, it's not fun." She points the brush at me. "It's war. And we're going to absolutely destroy the Harpers."
I can't help laughing at her fierce expression. "I take it you've lost before?"
"Three years running." She narrows her eyes. "But this year I have you. We're going to dominate."
"Yes ma'am," I say, pulling her against me. "Whatever you say."