Chapter Seven

Tate

"You packed refills, right?" I turn to Piper, shaking my now empty pen.

It's the first time either of us have spoken in at least two hours, and the first time I've moved my neck, if the way all of my muscles are protesting is any indication. Ever since the girlfriend gambit was introduced, things have been off. I don't think Piper understood how big of a deal me bringing a girlfriend to the resort would be when she made the suggestion. Literally no idea what she was getting us both into.

I don't know what Piper's family is like outside of her being an only child—we're not having existential conversations on the regular—but mine doesn't really have boundaries. There are just too many of us. It doesn't help that I've never brought a girl around before, so the whole situation looks like catnip to the naughtiest feline. I've been distracting myself from the impending awkwardness of the weekend by throwing myself into my work, coming up with a budget for the necessary renovations and repairs for the resort, as well as combing through all of the numbers that Oscar can get his hands on and making estimates based on what I've seen with my own two eyes this afternoon. Piper has spent the entire time researching what she can about Sunset Lake.

Rolling her eyes at my request, Piper reaches into her bag and opens my pen case with surgical precision, retrieving a tube of Mystery Black ink, the only color I will deign to write in. "Do I ever not remember the refills? Just because I'm pretending to be your girlfriend, doesn't mean you can treat me like a girlfriend behind closed doors."

Before I can ask her what she means by that, there's another knock at the cabin door. Still in assistant mode, Piper starts to rise from the bed, but I cut my hand through the air, motioning for her to sit down. I need to look like a boyfriend, not a boss, and that means answering the door.

"Hello?" I ask, tentatively opening the door, feeling like I'm playing a game of roulette with my past. Who knows what ghost of childhood stands behind door number one?

Luckily, it's just Fallon.

"Hi, Tate! Hi, Piper! On behalf of the staff here at Go Jump in the Lake, aka your family , you're officially invited to our ‘Couples Cruise!'" Fallon stares, waiting for a response from either of us. I look to Piper, who is just as confused as I am, and then back to my excitable baby sister, who visibly deflates at my own lack of enthusiasm. "Not that you would know because you're never here, but it's a thing the resort does every Friday night. We take couples who want to go out on the lake on the pontoon that is also lovingly known as the party barge."

"We have a party barge?" Immediately, my mind starts doing calculations about maritime insurance and boat docking and maintenance and captain's license renewal fees and a multitude of other things. This can't be good. No wonder this place is barely hanging on.

"Yes," Fallon states matter-of-factly, before slipping into her smiley event's coordinator persona. She reminds me of Julie McCoy that annoyingly perky, capable woman you see on old reruns of The Love Boat. "Guests rave about it. It has a wet bar and a grill. We charge an excursion fee for them to go out on a sunset cruise. We have music, wine, hors d'oeuvres…"

Now I'm thinking about food cost, wine pricing, and glassware purchases. It seems that while the cat's away the mice will get a little bougie. "Is this good wine? Are we talking cheese and crackers or full blown charcuterie? And you're saying this is weekly?"

"Why do you care so much about what doesn't concern you?" Fallon asks with a frown. "And does it matter? We cater to our guests, Tate. We always have. What they want, they get."

I start to reach for my Moleskine, prepared to start a whole new segment of budgeting and cost analysis regarding this surprise "party barge", when Piper brings an elbow to my side, knocking the notebook out of my hand and startling me into silence.

"We'll be there, Fallon," Piper says with a grin, sliding her arm around my rapidly bruising rib cage. "It sounds lovely."

I'm regretting those self-defense classes I made her take. Satisfied with the response of at least one of us, Fallon leaves behind a flier detailing tonight's events and then makes her way off our porch and toward the main lodge.

Piper leaves her arm around my waist until the door closes, and if it wasn't for the sore spot on my side, I'd enjoy the sensation. There's something unexpectedly comforting about her touch, a stark reminder of the warmth I've methodically excised from my life. The second we're alone again, Piper jerks away abruptly. I didn't realize my waist was so offensive.

"Did you have to elbow me so hard?" I rub at my ribs for emphasis.

Piper flops back down onto the bed with a sigh. "Did you have to dig so deep?"

"It's my money," I mutter under my breath. It's going to be very hard to sit back and let everyone do their jobs this weekend, knowing that their decisions are directly impacting my bottom line. The last thing I've ever wanted was to be in charge of my goofball siblings. Emotion does not belong mixed with business.

"Yes," she concedes. "And if you're so insistent on keeping it a secret, work your damn shift and shut up about the money. Also, stop sucking the joy out of this not-really-a-vacation. You never take me anywhere. You rarely give me time off."

"I need you." I'm starting to worry that the significant other ruse is going to her head. Despite the lines that feel like they're starting to blur, she's still my assistant. I don't owe anyone on my payroll a good time. At least, I don't think I do.

"So you say. Now, can we just have some fun for a change?"

"I guess."

She fixes a stare on me that I can only describe as threatening. "Try again."

"Ma'am, yes, Ma'am." I snap, adding a salute for a bit of bravado and flair.

Piper continues to stare for a moment, before tapping her toe against one of the bed posts. "Fine. I can work with that."

We continue our work in silence until an hour before the pontoon cruise launches, when Piper disappears into the bathroom to get ready. Never having been on a party barge, I have no idea what the dress code is. I settle on a simple pair of slacks and a button down with the sleeves rolled up, something that says "I'm trying" but doesn't shout billionaire. I decide to ask Piper for her approval, knocking on the bathroom door.

"I'm almost ready. Come in."

The Piper inside the bathroom is not the Piper I just saw. Instead of her perpetual bun or braid, her hair is blown out into voluminous waves. The dress clinging to her petite body is nothing formal or over the top—a long, white jersey knit dress with thin straps at the shoulders, and a modest V-neck—but it certainly looks great on her. The fabric accentuates curves I didn't even know she had, and the hem reveals a shapely length of leg.

"Can I help you?" she asks, leaning in close to the mirror as she slips a contact lens onto her eye.

"What happened to your glasses?" I've never seen her without them on, and the effect is startling. I realize it's a cliche, finding a girl you already know show-stoppingly beautiful once she takes her hair down and her glasses off completing a bit of a metamorphosis. It's clearly a cliche for a reason, as I find myself unable to stop staring.

"I got really paranoid they were going to fall off the boat and into the lake. They were expensive, and I like them." She pauses to assess herself in the mirror, turning to the left and right. Then, she looks at me. "You look … casual."

"So I did it?" I give her a smile in the mirror, smoothing the shirt against my stomach. "I look like a regular guy?"

"Absolutely. If you remove your Patek Philippe."

My eyes dart to the watch on my wrist. She's right. The man that everyone thinks I am definitely wouldn't be walking around with a watch worth more than a house on his arm. I run into the bedroom, taking the travel case out of my luggage and putting the whole thing away in the nightstand.

"Good catch," I mumble under my breath, linking my arm in Piper's as we make our way to the dock.

Arriving fifteen minutes before launch time, I'm surprised to find the boat is already decently crowded. It isn't at capacity, and the crowd isn't roaring or anything like that, but there's a solid dozen people in our group. All of them seem to be having fun. Fallon could be onto something after all, depending on the excursion fee and what the food and wine cost looks like. I strain to look over Piper's shoulder, trying to get a feel for a make and model of the boat, and she places a hand on my chest, guiding me on board and toward a table full of champagne flutes.

"You're doing math in your head. I can tell." Piper speaks through a smile like an accomplished ventriloquist, nodding at the bartender politely as he hands her two glasses of wine. She cuts me off before I can protest, forcing one of the glasses into my hand. "Don't be so obvious about it. If I catch you trying to price things out tonight, I will kick you in the shin or toss you overboard. I'm serious. Give me your phone. And stop trying to read the wine labels."

Craning my neck, I try to at least see if there's a screw cap involved on any of the reds. "But…"

"I will hop in that car and drive right back to Minneapolis. Don't think I won't. And you will be stranded here. Alone." Reluctantly, I fork over the cellphone, and she slips it into her purse. "And why did we have to take a rental, again?"

"Because the Mercedes would be a dead giveaway." Giving the wine an experimental sniff, I decide to my satisfaction that it isn't real Champagne. I extend my glass toward Piper's, bringing the rims together with a soft clink. "To being normal."

"To being normal," she repeats, and we each take a swig from our glass. "At least for you. I am already decidedly normal." Definitely not real Champagne. I must make a face at the taste, Piper scowling threateningly in response.

"Would you rather it be Bollinger, Mr. Scrooge?" she teases, draining the rest of her glass before allowing the bartender to refill it. I follow suit.

Noticing my brother Gibson's best friend, Aiden, I give him a wave. "Not at the rate you're drinking it."

Piper threatens to elbow me again, and I wince reflexively. She laughs, this bright and tinkling noise, and I can't remember the last time I heard her so relaxed. Then a woman taps her on the shoulder, telling her that she loves her shoes, and the moment is broken. We end up drawn into small talk with the woman and her husband, a couple doing a road trip all the way down the country from Winnipeg to visit their grandkids in Arkansas. They aren't the kind of people I usually have to mingle with at the parties that Oscar drags me to. Her husband is wearing cargo shorts with socks and sandals, for crying out loud. But there's something nice about them, something far more genuine than all of the venture capitalists and nebulously internet famous women they drag around with them. It doesn't hurt seeing Piper in her element either. By the time we part ways, she's managed to learn the names of all of their children, their children's children, what colleges they've gone to, and is asking to be updated about their son's Shih Tzu's diabetes when they make it into Little Rock next month.

"I don't know how you do it," I confess, grabbing a small plate from the hors d'oeuvres table. A quick examination reveals it to be cheese, crackers, and a handful of olives. The cheeses seem to be of a price point that I can live with. The olives are the regular green ones stuffed with pimentos, and not a more extravagant Castelvetrano either. Score another point for Fallon who's always had her head screwed on straight.

"Do what?" Piper asks, snagging a vibrantly green olive from my plate.

"Make people feel comfortable. People don't act like that around me."

"Because you're uncomfortable. People are like horses. If you're uncomfortable, they are too."

Before I can decide if this is an insult or not, there's a rumbling of excitement from the front of the boat. Fallon adjusts the microphone clipped to her polo shirt, and bounds over to our Manitoban friends with a grin.

"Alright, Jim and Nancy! Here at Sunset Lake we have a tradition. It is said that a kiss shared between two lovers while passing under our historic Wagon Bridge will bring good fortune in matters of the heart."

I look at my sister, who refuses to make eye contact with me, her gaze reaching anything but my face. Tradition my ass. I've never heard of anyone kissing anyone under this bridge, other than seagulls kissing tiny fish and bits of old French fries. I've never seen my parents kiss each other, and neither has Fallon. This is some kind of marketing gamble for the resort, and unless some other Sunset Lake resident calls her out on it, I guess it's working.

As we near the bridge, everyone buddies up with misty eyes and flushed cheeks. My brother's best friend, Aiden, and his new wife Iris, as well as several other couples, are all poised for liplocking. Jim and Nancy gaze at each other with that sickening look of a couple forty years into an actually happy marriage. Fallon herself even prepared for this, her old friend Leo slipping an arm around her waist. The desire to ask her what the hell that's all about is put on a back burner while I panic, realizing that it would be really odd to drive my "girlfriend" all the way back home and not kiss her under this stupid bridge.

"Now, get ready!" Fallon cheers. "Everyone has to kiss!"

As the boat passes under the bridge, the kissing begins like some kind of mass hysteria rippling through our little crowd. After Leo plants a simple kiss on Fallon's forehead, my sister stares at me over his shoulder, disappointment in her giant puppy dog eyes. I turn and look at Piper, who is staring at me in equal parts confusion and horror, bobbing her head around like she's searching for a cop out, ready to plant a chaste kiss on my cheek.

I can feel Aiden starting to look, too, alongside our Canadian cohorts, and something in me snaps. Planting a firm hand on the back of her head, and another at the base of her spine, I pull her in. She stiffens at first, then relaxes into my hold, her lips softening against mine. After caressing my way up her back, both of my hands grip her hair, my fingers tangling into the strands as I tilt my head to a new angle. At the heat of her tongue darting between her lips, my stomach bottoms out. A fresh burst of sensation unlike any I've ever known swirls inside me like a tornado. I had expected this to be awkward, but it isn't at all. In fact, it's the most comfortable I've ever felt. It's like every cell in my body is coming alive.

Then, Fallon, in her infinite wisdom, has the audacity to clap. The illusion is shattered, and I'm falling right back down to Earth. Everything about the moment snaps back into focus, and I push Piper away from me in a panic, which is probably the worst thing I could do.

She looks at me, eyes welling with tears, before shaking her head and composing herself as Aiden and Iris walk over to introduce themselves. There isn't any time or space for me to apologize or explain. All I can do is reach for another glass of sparkling wine and seethe. I've hurt the single most vital person in my life, on a stupid party boat, doing a tradition that my baby sister made up for clout. Then ruined just because she could. I hate Sunset Lake, and I hate my brother for bringing me here.

Because now the best thing in my life has changed.