16. Charlie
Charlie
I push the door open with my shoulder, juggling our overnight bags while trying not to look like the effort is making me sweat. Tess trails behind me, her heels dangling from her fingers, bare feet padding silently across the plush hallway carpet.
The lock clicks, the lights flicker on, and we both let out the same exhausted, relieved sigh—like we've been holding our breath all day, waiting for this moment when we could finally relax.
"We did it," Tess says, tossing her shoes into the corner where they land with twin thuds. "We fucking survived."
"Was there ever any doubt?" I set the bags down and loosen my tie, which has been feeling like a noose since hour three of the reception. "I'm Charlie Astor. I can handle anything. Even my ex-fake girlfriend's ex marrying her ex-friend."
"Such confidence," Tess says, but there's a smile playing at her lips—the real one, not the polite society mask she's been wearing all day. "Especially from a man who nearly choked on his champagne when Hank's grandmother asked when we’re getting married."
"I was buying time for my brilliant response," I protest, wandering deeper into the suite. It's everything I requested—sleek and modern but with warmth, a sprawling king bed visible through double doors, and floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing Spokane's twinkling skyline.
“And your “brilliant response” had to include that I bought you at a charity event? Where did that even come from?”
She follows me, her dress—that glorious deep green number that's been distracting me all evening—swishing softly around her legs.
"I have been bought, actually. Three times." I wink at her, delighting in her rolled eyes. "Raised twelve thousand for childhood cancer research last time."
"Of course you did." Tess discovers the balcony doors and slides them open, letting in the evening air. "Oh my God, Charlie. You didn't tell me there was a hot tub."
I join her at the threshold, slipping an arm around her. "Must have slipped my mind."
Steam rises from the surface of the water and tiny embedded lights cast a blue glow across the rippling water.
"This is..." Tess's voice trails off as she takes in our accommodations. "This is incredible. You didn't have to go all out like this."
"Consider it a thank you for surviving the Wedding from Hell." I run a hand through my hair, looking forward to soaking in the hot water.
She laughs, the sound honest and warm. "I'm not sure I packed anything remotely suitable for hot tubbing."
"I'm sure we can figure something out," I say, aiming for casual.
I head for the minibar, examining its contents with exaggerated interest. "First, though, I think we deserve a nightcap."
The minibar is stocked with the ridiculous excess I specifically requested – top-shelf everything, including a bottle of Rémy Martin Louis XIII cognac. I pull it out with a flourish.
"Is that what I think it is?" Tess asks, eyebrow raised.
"If you think it's liquid celebration, then yes." I search for glasses and find a couple in a cabinet above the sink.
She chuckles and takes off her jewelry—earrings, bracelet, necklace—carefully placing them in a little pouch that she pulled out of her overnight bag.
"We made your ex look like he's the one who missed out. And—" I pause for dramatic effect, opening the bottle with practiced ease, "—we did it all without being rude, which frankly deserves an award given how many times I wanted to drown him in that ridiculous chocolate fountain."
This earns me another laugh as I pour generous measures into our glasses. She accepts hers and clicks her glass to mine. "To another wedding in the books."
"To the best fake girlfriend a guy could ask for," I counter, clinking my glass against hers.
The cognac burns smooth down my throat, warming me from the inside out. Tess takes a more cautious sip, her eyes widening at the flavor.
"Holy shit, that's good," she whispers.
"It should be, for three grand a bottle."
She nearly spits out her drink. "Are you serious? Three thousand dollars?"
I shrug, aiming for nonchalance. "It’s just money. Besides—" I take another sip, savoring it "—after watching Kiley's father give that twenty-minute speech about true love while staring at the maid of honor's cleavage, I think we've earned the good stuff."
As the alcohol settles warm in my stomach, I feel the day's tension beginning to unravel. My shoulders drop a fraction. Tess looks more relaxed too, a slight flush coloring her cheeks.
"I'm starving," I announce suddenly. "Let's see what else this place has to offer."
I return to the minibar and yank open the snack drawer. It's a treasure trove of overpriced temptations – chocolate, nuts, chips, cookies. Without thinking too much about it, I grab five different bags of chips and tear them all open, arranging them in a semicircle on the coffee table.
"What are you doing?" Tess asks, amusement dancing in her voice.
"Creating a tasting menu," I say with complete seriousness. "Kettle-cooked sea salt and vinegar paired with thirty-year-old cognac brings out notes of...I don't know, oak and pretentiousness?"
"You're ridiculous," she states, but she's already reaching for the jalapeno chips.
"I agree with you one hundred percent," I say, joining her on the sofa, close enough that our knees almost touch.
We sit there, drinking three-thousand-dollar cognac and eating chips, and begin a brutal play-by-play from the wedding—Hank’s cousin who kept showing everyone photos of his pet iguana, the best man's disastrous attempt at rapping, the elderly aunt who kept farting.
We’re laughing so hard we’re almost crying.
"I can't believe you kept a straight face during the vows," Tess says, wiping tears from her eyes. "When Kiley started talking about 'finding her lighthouse in the storm,' I almost lost my shit. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing."
"All those years of poker have made me really good at keeping a straight face," I admit.
Tess tucks her long legs underneath her. The movement causes her dress to ride up slightly, revealing more of her thigh. I can’t help but stare. I clear my throat and gesture toward the balcony. "So...about that hot tub. It seems like a shame to waste it."
Tess glances out at the steaming water, then back at me. "I didn't pack a swimsuit."
"Neither did I," I say, holding her gaze.
A beat of silence stretches between us, charged with something more potent than the alcohol warming our blood.
"Well," she says finally, a small smile playing at her lips. "I guess we'll just have to improvise."
We finish our drinks, the cognac leaving a pleasant buzz humming through my veins. Tess stands, smoothing down her dress. "I'm going to change."
While she disappears into the bathroom with her overnight bag, I dim the lights and grab the bottle and glasses. I set them by the edge of the hot tub, then quickly strip down to my boxer briefs.
I've just lowered myself into the hot water when I hear the bathroom door open. I look up to find Tess standing at the threshold in a black bra and matching underwear, her body silhouetted by the light behind her. My mouth goes dry.
"Is this okay?" she asks, suddenly looking uncertain. "It's all I had."
It takes me a second to find my voice. "It's perfect."
She walks toward me, and I try not to stare, but I'm only human. The curves of her body, the way she moves - damn this woman is amazing. She climbs in across from me, sighing as the hot water envelops her.
"This," she says, closing her eyes, "was definitely worth getting through that wedding."
"Just the hot tub?" I ask, aiming for playful but landing closer to genuinely curious.
She opens one eye. "The company's not bad either."
We sit in comfortable silence for a while, letting the jets work their magic on our tense muscles. I pour us each another small measure of cognac, and we toast again – "To the company," this time.
The city lights twinkle below us, and above, a few stars manage to peek through Spokane’s mainly cloudy sky. It's peaceful, but I'm acutely aware of Tess across from me, water lapping just below her collarbones, hair piled messily atop her head.
"Thanks for having my back today," she says suddenly. "I know it was kind of awkward at times."
"Happy to do it," I say, winking at her. "I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
Our eyes meet over the rim of our glasses, and I watch a droplet of water trace its way down her neck, disappearing into the hollow of her throat. I have a sudden, overwhelming urge to follow its path with my lips.
"Charlie?" Her voice is soft, questioning.
"Yeah?"
"You’re pretty awesome."
I'm not sure which of us moves first – maybe we both do, drawn together like magnets. One moment we're on opposite sides of the hot tub, and the next she's in my lap, her legs straddling mine, her hands in my hair.
The first touch of her lips against mine sends electricity racing down my spine. There's no hesitation, no tentative exploration. Her mouth is hot and sweet from the cognac, her skin slick under my palms as I run them up her back.
"I've been wanting to do this all day," I confess between kisses, trailing my lips down her jaw to the pulse point at her neck.
"Maybe we should have skipped the wedding after all?" She laughs breathlessly, her head tilting to give me better access. "We could’ve been doing this all day."
She kisses me again, this one deeper, slower. Her hips shift against mine, and I groan against her mouth, my hands finding their way to her thighs.
"Maybe we should take this inside," I suggest as her fingers trace the muscles of my chest. "Before we give the neighboring buildings a show."
She nods and stands up in one fluid motion, water cascading down her body. She holds out her hand. "Coming?"
"Abso-fucking-lutely," I say, standing up quickly.