Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Reese
I’m still standing on the path outside Audra’s cabin like an idiot, staring at her closed door, when Taylor’s voice cuts through the darkness.
“So that’s the famous Audra.”
I turn to find my sister leaning against a tree, arms crossed, wearing that knowing smirk that’s been getting under my skin since we were kids.
“How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to watch you completely fail to make a move. Some things never change.”
“It’s not like that.” I start walking toward the lodge, hoping she’ll drop it. No such luck.
“Right. That’s why you practically sprinted to the door when her car pulled up.” She falls into step beside me. “The one who got away, finally shows up at your lodge, and you’re going to pretend it means nothing?”
We reach the lodge’s back entrance, and I hold the door for her. The kitchen is quiet now, dishes done, everything ready for tomorrow’s breakfast.
“We need to talk about the lawyer,” Taylor says, her voice shifting to business mode. “Bernard called while you were having your romantic woodland stroll. He’s coming Monday.”
My stomach drops. Bernard MacNeal is my aunt’s lawyer. “That’s in three days.”
“Two, technically.” She hops up on the counter, a habit from childhood she’s never broken. “Have you figured out what you’re going to tell him?”
I slump into one of the kitchen chairs. “The truth, I guess. That I’m not married. That Aunt Mildred’s romantic delusions shouldn’t determine the fate of a family legacy.”
“You know that won’t work. Bernard is a stickler for the will’s exact terms. You need to be married—or at least legitimately engaged—by summer’s end, or the lodge goes to the land preservation society.”
“Which would sell it to developers immediately.” I run my hands through my hair. “Actually, I got another offer today,” I tell her. “Fletcher Hartley. Remember him from Cornell?”
“The hedge fund guy who tried to buy out the Miller’s farm last year?”
“Same one. He’s been circling for months, offering increasingly ridiculous amounts.”
“How ridiculous?”
“Twice market value. Maybe more.”
Taylor whistles low. “That’s... a lot of money, Reese.”
“It’s not about money. This place is—”
“Family. I know.” She studies me. “What does he want with a small mountain lodge anyway?”
“Probably tear it down, build some corporate retreat center. He mentioned ‘maximizing the property’s potential’ in his last email.”
“Of course he did.” She shakes her head. “Did he also suggest you could hire someone to play fiancée? That seems like his kind of scheme.”
“Actually, yeah. He sent me contact info for some ‘discrete service’ that provides fake relationships. Said it would be a simple business transaction.”
“God, he’s such a reptile.”
I shake my head. “But back to our problem. Why would Aunt Mildred do this, Liv? She knew I wasn’t seeing anyone.”
“Maybe because you never take chances. You let Audra walk away after graduation without ever telling her how you felt. You’ve dated perfectly nice women who you never let get close.
And now—” She slides off the counter, comes to sit across from me.
“Now the universe drops Audra back in your life right when you need someone. That’s not a coincidence, Reese. That’s a second chance.”
“My chance to what? Trick her into a fake engagement?”
“Your chance to finally be honest with her. Tell her about the will. Tell her you need help. Hell, tell her you never said what you should have said ten years ago.” She leans forward.
“What’s the worst that could happen? She says no?
She’s already been gone for a decade—at least this time you’d know you tried. ”
I stand up to pace. “She came here to escape complications, not to get tangled up in my drama.”
“She came here,” Taylor says quietly, “to a place she had to know was yours. Our website literally says ‘Ashton Family Lodge.’ You think someone as detail-oriented as Audra didn’t notice?”
The observation hits home. Audra notices everything.
“Look,” Taylor continues, “I’m not saying she came here specifically for you.
But she didn’t NOT come here for you, either.
And right now, you need each other. She needs a place to heal.
You need... well, a fiancée. Maybe it starts as a business arrangement, but you two have unfinished business anyway. ”
She pauses at the door to her apartment. “Monday, Reese. Bernard will be here Monday expecting to meet someone, because you panicked last month and implied you were seeing someone.”
“That was your advice!”
“My advice was to buy time. You’re the one who made it sound serious.” She shakes her head. “Just think about it. For once in your life, take the risk. What’s that thing Audra used to say? ‘The biggest risk is not taking one?’”
“That was about her economics thesis.”
“Maybe it applies to more than that.”
She disappears upstairs, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I move to my office, drawn to the old photo from graduation that yes, I did crop poorly.
Not because I’ve been pining for a decade—I’ve lived my life, dated other women, built this business.
But Audra... Audra was unfinished business.
The conversation we never had. The chance I never took.
And now she’s here.
Maybe Taylor’s right. Maybe this is the universe giving me a second chance to finally be brave.
Or maybe it’s just going to complicate everything beyond repair.
Either way, Monday is coming. And I need to make a decision.
I pull out the letter from Bernard, smooth it on the desk.
The language is clear, unambiguous. Marriage or legitimate engagement by August 31st, or forfeit all claim to the Ashton family estate.
Two months. I have two months to find someone to marry, or at least someone willing to pretend long enough to secure the inheritance.
My phone buzzes. A text from Taylor: Stop overthinking. Ask her.
A second text: PS - She kept looking at you during dinner like you were dessert. Just saying.
I set the phone aside, stare at the will. The timing is surreal. Years of nothing working out relationship-wise, and now Audra walks back into my life right when I need... this. It’s either cosmic irony or cosmic intervention.
The smart thing would be to call one of those agencies Fletcher mentioned in his email weeks ago. Find someone who does this professionally. Keep it clean, simple, emotion-free.
But I’m already walking toward the Mann Suite.
Our honeymoon suite—though we rarely call it that—has been empty since the Jeffersons checked out yesterday.
I grab the master key and head over, not entirely sure what I’m doing.
The space is our nicest room: private deck overlooking the lake, clawfoot tub, working fireplace.
If Audra’s really here for a couple of weeks, she should have better than the basic cabin. That’s all. I’m being a good host.
I’m definitely not imagining what it would be like if she stayed longer. If she helped me save this place. If we finally had that conversation we should have had ten years ago.
I’m checking the bathroom fixtures—purely routine maintenance—when I hear footsteps on the path.
“Couldn’t sleep either?”
Audra’s standing in the doorway in pajama pants and an old Cornell hoodie that makes my chest tight with memory. Her hair’s messy, face bare of makeup. She looks like she did during finals week, when we’d camp out in the library until three AM.
“Just doing rounds,” I lie. “Checking on things.”
She steps inside, looking around with curious eyes. “This is beautiful. Much nicer than my cabin.”
“It’s available if you want to upgrade. Better wifi, bigger workspace.”
“Trying to upsell me already?” She’s teasing, but there’s something else in her voice. “Though I guess you need every booking you can get if...” She gestures vaguely at the papers still visible in my pocket.
“You saw those.”
“Hard to miss. You’ve been carrying them around like they might explode.” She moves to the window, looks out at the lake. “Taylor mentioned something about a deadline. The inheritance thing.”
I should deflect, change the subject. Instead, I find myself saying, “My aunt left me the lodge with conditions. Specific conditions.”
“What kind of conditions?”
“The kind that assumes everyone wants the same things she wanted. Marriage, family, someone to share the legacy with.” I join her at the window, careful to keep space between us. “I have until the end of summer to meet her requirements or the lodge goes to a land trust.”
“That’s...” She turns to face me. “That’s insane. Can you contest it?”
“Already tried. The will is iron-clad.” I laugh, but it’s hollow. “Two months to find someone to marry, or at least convince the lawyer I’m engaged. Otherwise, three generations of family history gets sold to the highest bidder.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, processing. This is the Audra I remember—the one who thinks before she speaks, who weighs all angles before making a move.
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. Taylor thinks...” I pause, because saying it out loud makes it real. “Taylor thinks I should ask you.”
Her eyes widen. “Ask me what?”
“To help. To pretend. To be my fake fiancée for the summer.” The words tumble out in a rush. “I know it’s crazy. I know you came here to escape complications, not create more. But—”
“But you’re desperate.”
“No. Well, yes, but that’s not why—” I run a hand through my hair, frustrated. “I’m not asking you. I’m just... telling you what Taylor said. It’s a terrible idea.”
“Is it?” She’s looking at me with an expression I can’t read. “I mean, objectively speaking. I’m here for what, two weeks? You need someone who can be convincing as your fiancée. We have history, chemistry—or at least we used to. People would believe it.”
“Audra—”
“I’m just being logical. Looking at it like one of our business cases from Professor Kumar’s class.” But there’s something in her voice that suggests this isn’t purely academic. “What would you offer? Hypothetically?”
“Hypothetically?” I lean against the window frame. “Free stay for the whole summer. This suite, actually. All meals included. And...” I hesitate, then decide to be honest. “A chance to figure out whatever you came here to figure out without the pressure of going back before you’re ready.”
“And what would you need from me? Hypothetically.”
“Convince the lawyer we’re engaged. Be seen around town with me. Maybe some staged photos for social media.” I meet her eyes. “And probably have some very awkward conversations about why we waited ten years to get together.”
She laughs, soft and a little sad. “We’re good at avoiding those conversations.”
“We’re experts.”
We stand there in the moonlit suite, the weight of unfinished business between us. This is insane. I should take it back, tell her to forget I mentioned it.
Instead, I say, “Think about it. No pressure. The offer’s there if... if you want it.”
“Reese—”
“I should go. Let you get back to sleep.” I move toward the door, then pause. “For what it’s worth, this isn’t how I imagined us reconnecting.”
“How did you imagine it?”
The question catches me off guard. “Honestly? I figured if I ever saw you again, it would be at some alumni event where we’d make polite small talk and pretend we were never more than study partners.”
“We were more than study partners.”
“Yeah,” I agree quietly. “We were.”
I leave before either of us can say what we actually were, or what we could have been. But as I walk back to my room, I can’t shake the feeling that maybe Taylor’s right.
Maybe this is the universe giving us a second chance.
Even if we have to start with a lie to get to the truth.