Chapter Six

Piper

After that awkward but necessary conversation, Tate spends most of the drive ignoring me. I understand the impulse even though I'm afraid I might have broken him. It must be strange for him, sensing the encroaching familiarity of all of the landmarks as we get closer to Sunset Lake, and by extension, all of the people, places, and things he's been avoiding since he went halfway across the country for his undergrad program.

I don't know a lot about his former life outside of his big family, but he's told me enough that I can fill some of the blanks in for myself. He cares about them, that's for sure, but he doesn't want to be a part of the lives they've built for themselves all the way out here. I think he got lost within the chaos, and for a man like Tate who values being seen, that made him feel less than. It's probably why he's thrown himself into his work, building a life where he controls every variable, away from the unpredictable tides of family dynamics.

Thankfully, I don't need his help finding the place. The GPS directs me just fine while he's busy pretending to draft a response to an important email from Oscar. From the few glances I've stolen over his shoulder, he's obviously aimlessly scrolling through pictures of cats and starting petty fights in the comment sections of r/ProgrammerHumor. This is a man with a net worth greater than most cities. Unbelievable.

The signs from the main street direct me to a smaller gravel road that winds through a smattering of trees around the lake, giving me a delightful view over the water. There are families out on boats, fishing, waterskiing, or simply lounging around enjoying the weather. Everything seems so peaceful. It looks like something outside of a fairytale. This is the sort of place that people enjoy while trying to escape the stress and unpleasantness of their daily lives. Now that I'm seeing it with my own eyes, I don't understand how anyone with the privilege to live here could want to leave. Out from the trees emerges the main lodge of the resort, a building that looks like something my kid brother would've built out of Lincoln Logs, with the characteristic wooden exterior walls and green roofing.

Scattered around the lodge are rustic cabins varying in size, each one nestled into its own little nook among the trees, providing privacy and a sense of seclusion despite being part of a bustling resort. The cabins are painted a soft, earthy color that blends seamlessly with the natural surroundings, each fronted by a small porch with rocking chairs that invite guests to sit back and enjoy the tranquil lake view.

Near the center of the resort, there's a vibrant game area where laughter and friendly competition are in full swing. A well-maintained firepit surrounded by benches forms the heart of this communal space, perfect for evening gatherings. Adjacent to this, several cornhole boards are set up on a neatly trimmed lawn, where guests of all ages challenge each other under the watchful eyes of towering pines.

The lodge itself, grand and inviting, houses not just the main reception and dining facilities but also a private floor where the family resides. According to Tate, this exclusive area is their personal retreat within the resort, a private sanctuary with its own amenities and comforts, separate from the guest accommodations but still at the heart of the resort's lively atmosphere.

Glancing around once again, I let out a sigh. I didn't know that things like this existed in real life.

I slow the car to a stop, not sure if I should park directly in front of the building. There certainly isn't a valet set up here. Wherever I park, I'm doing it myself. I'm about to shake Tate by the shoulder to try and garner his assistance when I notice a woman talking to a group of guests just outside the entrance, excitedly pointing things out on a map. She looks to be about my age, with blonde hair in a loose French braid and an athletic and outdoorsy tan, while the polo shirt and name tag tucked into her khaki shorts seem to indicate that she works here. I've just barely unbuckled my seatbelt when she turns, looking through the car window into the passenger side, and beams.

Yanking open the heavy front door to the lodge, she peers into the entrance and shouts to seemingly no one in particular.

"Tate's here!" She turns our way again, squinting as we climb out of the car and head to the trunk for our bags. "And he's with… a girl!"

I turn to Tate as his hand finds his suitcase, and offer him a long, pointed blink. "Were they expecting a guy?"

"What? No. I don't think so." He pauses to think, totally lost in thought and displaying none of the urgency that he needs to as Fallon bounds down the front steps toward their car. "Well, maybe. Not that I dated guys. I just…"

"They weren't expecting a girl. They weren't expecting a guy. They weren't expecting anyone at all, were they?" I point out with a tight smile. It won't be a very good first impression with Tate's sister if she interrupts me trying to beat her sweet older brother to death with my messenger bag. I can't tell them I'm his assistant, because he's not supposed to be rich, and he's done absolutely nothing to provide me with a cover story, or pave the way in advance. I never should've saved him from that tree branch. Mavis had the right idea.

"Hi! I'm Fallon. The annoying little sister. I'm sure you've heard so much about me." Fallon is so overwhelmingly cheerful that I can't imagine she and Tate are from the same gene pool, let alone siblings. She looks at me pointedly, waiting for me to introduce myself. I look from Tate to Fallon and back again. Tate just stands in a blind panic, hands gripping his suitcase handle like it's a life raft in the storm of social anxiety swirling around him.

"Hey, Fallon," Tate finally manages, his voice tinged with a hesitant affection that seems to battle through his usual reserve. "It's been too long."

"Too long? Try practically forever!" Fallon's tone is teasing but softens as she steps forward. "You've missed so many Christmases, we almost replaced you with a cardboard cutout."

Seeing her brother frozen, Fallon steps forward, her arms outstretched in an attempt to bridge the distance with a hug. Tate stiffens, clearly out of his comfort zone, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, he pats her awkwardly on the back, his face a mask of forced smiles.

I panic, reaching for the first lie that comes to mind. The words fall out of my mouth so quickly that I don't have time to think about the repercussions. "I'm Piper. Tate's girlfriend."

The second the last syllable hits the air, time stops all around me. Tate stares at me in abject horror and confusion, his full lips parting into an oval. My lungs stop working, my mind grinds to a halt, and I think my heart might explode. Fallon enters a state of excitement I didn't know was possible.

"Holy smokes!" she squeals, bringing her hands to her face and pushing her round cheeks way up into her eyes. "Tate has a girlfriend. A girlfriend! Tate! This is the best thing ever! Oh my God, we had all but lost hope! And you brought her home with you?"

My eyes widen into moons. But I can't shove the words back in now. "I… uh…"

She turns over her shoulder, her braid whipping through the air. "Daisy! Hank! Tate is here and he has a girlfriend! Like a human one!"

"Um…" Tate stammers, his mouth opening and closing in a truly uncanny impression of a largemouth bass or a malfunctioning android. I think I've accidentally broken him again.

"Since you didn't tell them I was coming along," taking his hand in mine, I squeeze it hard, leaning over to whisper in his ear, "it made the most sense. We're not here that long. Just go with it."

"I'm so excited," Fallon looks at me one last time, before booking it toward the entrance, presumably to shout over the PA system that Tate does in fact have a girlfriend, and she's here right now. "Tate's first girlfriend."

"And that's why they were expecting a guy." His first girlfriend? That can't be right. Tate sees women all the time. He's not a shut-in virgin. He created an algorithm for a dating app. Obviously, he has dated before. Had relationships over the years? Right? This felt like an easy lie at the time, but now I'm starting to wonder if I shouldn't just get back in the car and leave him here to deal with the consequences. The only thing stopping me is that it's probably a breach of my contract. That and the absolutely helpless look on his face. I can't just throw him to the polo shirt wearing wolves like this.

We follow Fallon into the main lodge with our bags, making our way through the heavy double door and into what serves as a lobby. My eyes dart around, taking everything in from the large fireplace to the six foot tall taxidermized bear in the corner. I can tell from a glance at Tate that he's already forgone shock over his fake girlfriend to calculating the number of guests in the lobby, and evaluating all that needs to be repaired or replaced. He's making plans in his head already. There's going to be some furious notebook scribbling when we get settled in.

There's a split second where I start to edge my way in front of Tate to the front desk. As his assistant, it's always been my job to do the talking, to process payments and handle logistics. But it wouldn't make much sense here for Tate to let his girlfriend check us into the family's resort. I awkwardly take a half-step behind him, gently nudging him toward his sister. He's slow to realize that it's his responsibility to handle things now, but he eventually catches on, and makes small talk with Fallon as she looks up his reservation and finds us a key and a couple of brochures. She offers to walk us out to the cabins, but Tate declines, reminding her that he's spent just as many years here as she has, and could walk the dimensions of the resort in his sleep.

As Tate finishes up with Fallon, I notice a woman approaching us with a confident stride. She's tall, with long blonde hair that catches the light, casting a golden hue around her like some kind of ethereal halo. Her eyes are a vibrant green, sparking with warmth and intelligence. I can't help but feel slightly intimidated by her poised appearance.

"Tate, it's been too long!" she exclaims, her voice carrying a melodious tone that fills the space with friendliness.

Tate turns and his face breaks into a wide smile. "Daisy! You're looking as stunning as ever. How have you been?"

"Busy, but good." Daisy turns her gaze to me. She extends a hand, her smile bright. "I'm Daisy, the manager here at the resort. It's so nice to meet you."

"Piper." I take her hand, feeling the warmth of her grasp. "Nice to meet you, too, Daisy. Tate has told me a lot about you."

Daisy laughs lightly, a sound that seems to fit perfectly with her sunny disposition. "Only good things, I hope. Tate and I go way back. I also knew his brother, Hudson, quite well. We grew up together here."

Tate nods, a hint of nostalgia flickering across his features. "Daisy was practically part of the family. Still is."

I smile, watching the easy exchange between old friends. It's clear Daisy holds a special place here, and her connection to Tate—and even the elusive Hudson—adds another layer to the rich tapestry of relationships at the resort. I can't wait to find out more about what makes my boss tick throughout our days here.

By the time we've made it to our particular cabin, I'm certain that everyone on the property has been made aware that Tate has returned to Sunset Lake, with a girlfriend in tow, from the excitement radiating off of Fallon when she looked in our general direction. The whole town will know by the time they've all gathered around the dinner table, I'm sure of it.

Opening the door to our accommodations, I have to laugh to stop myself from screaming. They're the sort of thing a seasoned realtor would describe as quaint. Not that they aren't nice. The cabin is charmingly decorated without being tacky, the bathroom is outfitted with some gorgeous hand-painted tiles that Fallon had mentioned as being by a local artist, and there is a wonderful amount of natural light streaming in through the windows. The bed itself looks amazingly comfortable, and is made up like a fluffy mountain range. But therein lies the problem. Bed. Singular. There isn't a lot of room around it either. There is nowhere inside the four walls for privacy. And…

Only. One. Bed.

This cabin is meant for either one individual or for a very close and intimate pair. Given my hastily concocted cover story, Fallon wouldn't have any reason to provide us with anything else. I'm sure she thought she was helping and setting the stage for some vacation romance on this very long weekend.

Setting my suitcase on the mattress, I kick off my shoes and take a cautious seat on top of the comforter, waiting with bated breath to see where Tate decides to position himself. To my relief, he opts for the small sofa on the opposite wall.

"I was so determined to not come down here in person if I didn't have to. I really fought Oscar on coming to check the place out myself," he groans, swinging his legs onto the couch and settling his feet onto the arm. "But I'm starting to be happy that I did. This place looks nothing like how it used to. I know Oscar would chalk it up to the rose-colored glasses of childhood nostalgia, but believe me, I have never felt anything of the sort. I can see now why Mom was so panicked. Dad really was mismanaging this place right into the ground, and it's not fair to put the burden on Ledger to turn the ship around all on his own. I've already got a list of at least fifteen things that need to be fixed up or tossed out just from our brief walk through the front door. I can't imagine what things look like behind the scenes. Like with the actual mechanicals."

He makes a rough hand gesture toward me, one that I've come to understand quite well over the years. Unclasping the front pocket of my messenger bag, I grab a black Moleskine and the travel case for his favorite Montblanc, tossing them gently his way. As he starts scribbling, I'm struck by the realization that he isn't panicking about the other much bigger elephant in the very tiny room. In fact, he hasn't mentioned it at all. His mind is reeling, so I don't even think it's hit him yet.

"Tate. I appreciate your investment in your… investment. However, I think we need to talk about the other thing."

"What other thing?" he asks, eyes never leaving his notes.

"The girlfriend thing?" I remind him with an incredulous tilt of my head.

"Ah. Yeah. That." Tate's pen stops, hovering in midair. He taps the end against his lips in thought, then shrugs. "I guess we just wing it. I apologize for not coming up with something in advance."

"I'm not winging it. We need to set boundaries, or this is going to get weird. Fast."

"Alright. Fine." He caps his pen with a sigh, closing the notebook and setting them both neatly on the floor. Bringing a hand to his jaw, he massages his beard. "The family already thinks of me as standoffish about being touched. I've never been a touchy-feely, cuddly sort of guy. So we don't need to do anything on the PDA front. And frankly, I think you know me well enough to answer any questions they may have or play along with any jokes about me. It's not like we're strangers. We'll just say you're a woman from my building—which is true—and go from there."

"Okay … I guess." He's right on several fronts. I don't think I'll have any problem faking my way through this. I'm not particularly worried about myself, however. "What are you going to do if they ask any questions about me?"

As I ready my hair for a loose braid, the casual domesticity of the moment strikes me. It's a sharp contrast to the edgy lines of our usual interactions, confined within the walls of offices and structured meetings. Here, in this shared vulnerability of night routines, something shifts, subtly but irrevocably. Despite the simplicity of the action, it feels intimate, a shared moment that doesn't fit neatly into the employee-employer checkboxes. Maybe it's the softness of the hour, or the way his words hang between us, but as I meet his reflection in the mirror, I can't help but feel that we're tiptoeing around something deeper, something potentially messy. It's as if standing here, in the quiet before the storm, we're both on the brink of acknowledging something that could shift everything. And yet, we hold back, because some truths, once spoken, can't be unheard.

"I know how you take your coffee. That's a start." Tate offers. The grin on his face fades the longer he looks at me, and the realization that he doesn't know very much about me at all starts to settle in. "Why girlfriend? You couldn't be my platonic best friend?"

"Who brings a platonic best friend to meet the family over a long weekend? Especially one of the opposite sex?" I counter, still in utter disbelief that I have to spell this out for him. "And what average guy would bring their assistant, let alone have an assistant, Mr. Secret Billionaire?"

He raises his hands, conceding to my point. Looking at him sitting there on the couch, a grown man running his own multi-million dollar company, I have to wonder about the bigger picture.

"And more importantly, how have you made it this many years and never had a serious girlfriend?"

He swallows, straightening his shoulders in indignation. "I don't believe in love, so what would be the point?"

"You don't believe in love," I repeat his statement dumbly, rolling the words around on my tongue. "That's a lot to unpack. You designed a dating app."

Tate wags a finger at me in defiance. "That was for my thesis, remember? Besides, my intention was to definitively prove, once and for all, that there's no such thing as romantic love."

"You're kidding." I choke out a small laugh, waiting for the seriousness to fall away from his expression. It does not. In fact, he doubles down, refusing to show even a hint of amusement at the idea. He's starting to look a little wounded. "You aren't kidding. God, you're miserable. I thought that was shtick."

"Not shtick." Crossing his arms, he flops back against the arm of the couch, wiggling in against a throw pillow. "A fact. Because I can get behind the truth, not some pie in the sky romantic fantasy concocted by capitalists."

"Not fantasy according to the success of your app." Shaking my head, I pull my own laptop out of my bag, preparing myself for all of the research I'm going to need to do about the town and the resort to field any of Tate's requests as he begins his plans to overhaul the place. I don't believe that anyone can not believe in love. Especially not someone as seemingly sensitive as Tate. "And the article that had you running for Sunset Lake."

As I set up my workspace, preparing for a weekend of both personal and professional navigation, a sudden knock at the door makes us both start. Before Tate can get up, the door swings open and an unhappy looking man stands there, his expression a mixture of curiosity and irritation.

"Didn't think I'd hear about Tate Story bringing a special guest to the resort through the family grapevine," he grumbles, stepping into the room with a skeptical look. He eyes me, then Tate, his gaze sharp and probing. "This must be Piper, huh? The mysterious girlfriend who's suddenly popped up."

Tate rises awkwardly, the color draining from his face as he manages a strained, "Hey, Ledger. Yeah, this is Piper. Piper, this is Ledger, my brother—"

" Older brother," Ledger corrects him flatly, without breaking eye contact with me. He crosses his arms, leaning against the door frame. "A grown woman, huh? You look surprisingly normal to be with the likes of him. Here I was thinking you'd be some tech wizard or an overzealous intern."

I extend a hand, trying to cut through the tension. "Nice to meet you, Ledger."

He ignores my hand, his brows knitting together as he surveys the cabin. "Hope you know what you're signing up for with this one. His version of romance is probably debugging your laptop."

Tate clears his throat, attempting to salvage the introduction. "Ledger's got his own unique way of welcoming people."

"Just keeping it real," Ledger says, finally accepting my hand with a firm shake that feels more like a challenge than a greeting. He turns back to Tate, his tone slightly less gruff. "You gonna help me at the front desk while you're here, or is that too much for you?"

Tate nods, a resigned sigh escaping him. "I'll make it work."

With one last appraising look at me, Ledger nods and steps back, the grumpiness never quite leaving his eyes. "Good to meet you, Piper. Don't let him bore you too much with his algorithms."

As the door closes behind him, I turn to Tate, finding him rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. "Well, that was Ledger. Always a joy."

I laugh, easing some of the tension. "He's certainly... direct."

Tate flops back down onto the couch, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "You have no idea."

As I set up my workspace, the weight of his earlier confession hangs in the air, thick and oppressive. How can someone so brilliantly intricate, capable of weaving such complexities into his work, dismiss the simplest truth of human connection? It's tragic, really—Tate, with all his wealth and intelligence, barricading his heart behind walls of cynicism. Does he truly sleep better, cloaked in denial, or does he, too, yearn for the indefinable magic he's so quick to discredit?

Maybe he just doesn't know how to recognize love when he sees it.

Closing my laptop gently, I steal a glance at him. He looks away, a guarded veil slipping over his features. Maybe this weekend, amidst the ghosts of his past and the echoes of laughter that once filled his childhood, he might glimpse what he's been missing. Perhaps, under the soft light of Sunset Lake, the idea of falling in love won't seem so far-fetched.

But for now, I'll keep my musings to myself. Because sometimes, the most profound revelations come not from loud proclamations but from quiet moments of reflection. And as the day deepens, I make a silent vow to show Tate, whether he admits it or not, that love, in all its messy glory, is the most real thing there is.