12. Ginger #4
"Well, far be it from me to stand in the way of science," he grins, pulling me back down to him. "Though we should move this research to the bedroom before the boys return and get an education they're not ready for."
"Good point," I agree, extracting myself from his embrace. "I'd rather not explain this particular life lesson yet."
As I gathered my scattered clothing, a thought occurred to me. "Tyler?"
"Hmm?" he responds, watching me with undisguised appreciation.
"What happens when we leave here? In three days?"
The question sobers us both. Tyler sits up, running a hand through his disheveled hair.
"I don't know," he admits. "But I know I don't want this—us—to end when vacation does."
"Me neither," I say softly. "But Boston and New York aren't exactly neighbors."
"Two hundred and fifteen miles," he say with a rueful smile. "I looked it up last night when I couldn't sleep."
I raise an eyebrow. "Planning ahead even before asking me on a date? That's either presumptuous or endearing."
"Let's go with optimistically prepared," he suggests, his fingers tracing patterns on my shoulder. "But distance is the least of my concerns, honestly."
"What is, then?" I ask, curious about what worried a man who seemed to have everything figured out.
Tyler is quiet for a moment. "Julian's been through so much already with the divorce. Getting his hopes up about us, about Karl..." He sighs. "If this doesn't work out, it's not just us getting hurt."
The weight of his words settle between us. I hadn't allowed myself to think that far ahead, but he was right. Our sons had formed a bond as strong as our own, maybe stronger.
"Karl talks about Julian constantly," I admit. "This morning he asked if Julian could come visit us in Boston. I didn't know what to tell him."
"I have a jet," he reminds me with a half-smile. "And more importantly, I have Julian every other week, which means I have a very good reason to make this work, whatever it takes."
The determination in his voice makes my heart swell. "We could try," I concede, hope blooming despite my practical reservations. "Take it slow, figure it out as we go."
"What would that look like for you?" he asks, his expression serious. "I need to understand what you're worried about, beyond the distance."
I take a deep breath, organizing my thoughts. "I've built a life in Boston. Karl's school, my friends, the community center where I volunteer. I started feeling like myself again after the lottery chaos." I meet his eyes. "And there's the money thing."
"The money thing?" Tyler prompt.
"You built your wealth. I stumbled into mine through pure luck," I explain. "I'm still figuring out who I am with it. The idea of stepping into your world—galas and business dinners and society expectations—that terrifies me more than the distance."
Tyler nods. "I understand that. But what if we created our own world instead? One that works for all four of us?"
The possibility hangs in the air between us, tantalizing and terrifying all at once.
"Or," he says, "we could acknowledge that we've already had our 'take it slow' phase—three weeks of getting to know each other inside and out, of watching how we each parent, of learning each other's habits and quirks and still wanting more."
Put like that, our unconventional start seemed almost... advantageous.
"Are you suggesting we just dive in?" I ask, both thrilled and terrified by the prospect.
"I'm suggesting we stop pretending this isn't exactly what we both want," he clarifies, taking my hands in his. "I want you in my life, Ginger. I want Karl in Julian's life. I want weekends together and holiday plans and all the messy, wonderful complexity that comes with merging two families."
"That's... a lot to process," I say, even as my heart races at the vision he was painting.
"Tell me what you want," Tyler urges. "Not what you think is practical or realistic. What do you want?"
I close my eyes, allowing myself to imagine possibilities I'd been too cautious to consider.
"I want Karl to have the kind of stability I never had growing up.
I want to wake up to your terrible coffee.
" I open my eyes to find him watching me intently.
"I want to see if this feeling—this connection—is strong enough to survive in the real world. "
"And if it is?" he ask, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Then I want everything," I admit. "The weekend visits, the holiday plans, the chance to build something real. But I'm scared, Tyler. Terrified."
"Of what, specifically?"
"Of uprooting Karl's life for something that might not work.
Of discovering that what we have here is just..
. mountain magic. Of falling in love with you and then having to explain to my son why we don't see Julian anymore.
" The confession leaves me feeling exposed, vulnerable in a way that had nothing to do with my physical nakedness.
Tyler's expression softens. "Those are all valid fears.
I have them too." He squeezes my hands. "But here's what I believe: what we've found here isn't magic—it's recognition.
Two people who see each other clearly and like what they see, despite the complications.
I'm not asking for an answer tonight. Just.. . think about it?"
I nod, leaning up to kiss him softly. "I'll think about it. But right now, we should relocate before our sons return and find evidence of activities they shouldn't know about yet."
Tyler laughs, the sound warming me from within. "Lead the way, Beautiful.”
As we move to the bedroom to continue what we'd started, I can't help but marvel at the strange twists life took. Three weeks ago, I'd been a freshly minted millionaire fleeing unwanted attention, quickly agreeing to a fake relationship with a stranger out of mutual convenience.
Now I was falling—no, had fallen—for that same man, contemplating a future that seemed both wildly impractical and perfectly right. It wasn't what I'd come to Crystal Peak looking for, but perhaps it was what I needed to find.
Three more days on this mountain. Three more days to decide if what we'd found here was strong enough to survive in the real world beyond these snow-covered peaks. Three more days to be brave.
Watching Tyler's smile as he reaches for me again, I find myself hoping that maybe the magic of Crystal Peak wasn't limited to its breathtaking views and luxury amenities. Maybe some of that magic had worked its way into us, creating something real from the pretense we'd begun with.