“Pack a swimsuit.”
The text blinked up at her the following Thursday afternoon, sandwiched between a spam alert about her “suspicious credit card activity” and a promotional email for half-off hoop earrings.
> Tessa: …Excuse me?
> Caleb: My parents’ lake house. This weekend. Family thing. You’ll be expected to come.
She stared at the words.
> Tessa: expected by WHO
> Caleb: My grandmother. My parents. My sister. Everyone who saw you at brunch and is now planning their “quality time” quota.
> Tessa: can’t you tell them I have… plague?
> Caleb: I did try “she has work.” Elise offered to buy the mall to fix that problem.
Tessa choked on her lukewarm coffee.
> Tessa: she WHAT
> Caleb: Kidding.
> Caleb: Mostly.
She rubbed her temple.
> Tessa: I don’t… do lakes.
> Caleb: You just hate fun.
> Tessa: I hate drowning. and fish touching my feet. and being seen in swimsuits by people who read Forbes for fun.
> Caleb: One, the lake is shallow near the dock. Two, I promise the fish will respect your personal space. Three, my uncle reads Forbes, not my cousins. The rest of us are more People Magazine level.
> Caleb: Come. It’ll… actually be fun. We water-ski. Grill. Play board games. Abby cheats at Scrabble.
She chewed her lip.
A weekend away. Two nights. Ward family plus Tessa plus… the same roof as Caleb.
Her gaze flicked to the rules list tacked inside her closet door.
No sharing a bed.
Her stomach flipped.
> Tessa: separate rooms?
> Caleb: Obviously.
> Caleb: My grandmother is meddling, not deranged.
> Tessa: I’ve seen your grandmother’s eyes. I’m not convinced.
> Caleb: I’ll send you a floor plan if it helps.
She laughed despite her anxiety.
> Tessa: you WOULD.
> Caleb: Friday evening to Sunday afternoon. I’ll pick you up after your shift.
She hesitated.
Lana’s voice echoed in her head: *Every time you go to his world, you get in deeper.*
Her mother’s voice followed: *You look scared, but happy.*
Her own, smaller, louder-than-she-wanted voice whispered: *You want to go.*
> Tessa: fine. but if I get eaten by a lake monster, I’m haunting you.
> Caleb: That’s fair.
> Caleb: See you Friday, Lake Monster.
***
Packing for a fake-fiancée-weekend-with-billionaires was not an area covered by Marie Kondo.
“What do you even *wear* to a lake house?” Tessa groaned, flinging another pair of shorts onto the bed. “Do I need… linen? Boat shoes? A yacht?”
Lana lay sprawled on her stomach, scrolling through photos of the Ward property on her tablet. “According to the internet,” she said, “you need a floppy hat and an internalized sense of generational entitlement.”
“I have neither,” Tessa said. “Can I borrow yours?”
Lana snorted. “My generational entitlement is on backorder. But you can borrow my sundress.”
She pulled a yellow dress from Tessa’s closet—the one Tessa insisted made her look like an overgrown daffodil and Lana insisted made her look like “summer personified.”
“Swimsuit?” Lana prompted, digging.
Tessa winced. “I have… one.”
Lana pulled it out. A simple black one-piece, functional and modest.
“This is fine,” Lana pronounced. “Classy. Sexy in a ‘I’m not trying too hard’ way. Which you never are.”
Tessa flopped back on the bed. “I feel like I’m going to trip over some unspoken rich-people rule. Like, is there a protocol for lake food? Do I eat the chips with two fingers or can I go full handful?”
“Full handful,” Lana said. “If they judge you for chip-handling technique, they don’t deserve you.”
Tessa stared at the ceiling. “I should… bring the rules.”
“You’re *living* the rules,” Lana said. “No sex. No kissing without an audience. No bed-sharing. No ‘I miss you.’ No falling in—”
“Finish that sentence and I’ll drown you in his lake,” Tessa warned.
Lana’s smile turned sly. “What are you going to do if he comes out of the water in low-slung swim trunks looking like a cologne ad?”
“Die,” Tessa said. “Die immediately.”
“Wow,” Lana said. “No fight in you at all.”
“He’s not…” Tessa trailed off, heat creeping up her neck. “He’s… just a guy.”
“Sure,” Lana said. “Just a guy who makes your entire nervous system short-circuit.”
Tessa was spared having to respond by her phone buzzing.
> Caleb: Outside when you are.
She checked the time. Five-thirty. Her shift had ended fifteen minutes ago; she’d bolted the second Leah shooed her out.
Her stomach swooped.
“Okay,” Lana said, watching her face. “You’ve got this. Remember: you are not an impostor. You are his fiancée. You belong wherever he is. Even if that ‘wherever’ includes a boathouse and a wine cellar.”
“I’m his *fake* fiancée,” Tessa said.
“Semantics,” Lana replied, shoving the suitcase into her hands. “Call me if they start a tax shelter. I want in.”
Tessa laughed weakly. Hugged her. Then clomped down the stairs, suitcase bumping, heart hammering.
Caleb’s car—a different boring sedan, this one silver—idled at the curb. He was leaning against it, hands in his pockets, looking infuriatingly good in a navy henley and dark jeans.
He straightened when he saw her, moving to take the suitcase.
“I’ve got it,” she said automatically.
“I know,” he said. “But I’m taller.”
“That’s heightism,” she muttered.
He smiled. Lifted the suitcase with one hand, as if it weighed nothing, and popped it in the trunk.
“Ready for the wilderness?” he asked.
“A lake with a dock and a boathouse is not wilderness,” she said. “It’s… curated nature.”
“Spoken like a true mall employee,” he said. “Get in, Morales. I have s’mores to burn and cousins to threaten.”
She climbed in, nerves buzzing like static.
As they pulled away from her apartment, she caught a glimpse of Lana in the window, making an exaggerated heart shape with her hands and mouthing, *Don’t sleep with him.*
Tessa rolled her eyes and waved.
“Lana looks… invested,” Caleb commented, amused.
“She considers you her new favorite soap opera,” Tessa said. “Except with better lighting.”
He chuckled. Then his fingers drummed once on the steering wheel.
“Okay,” he said. “Weekend briefing.”
“Oh God,” she said. “You made an agenda, didn’t you?”
“Not printed,” he said. “I restrained myself.”
“Proud of you,” she said. “Hit me.”
He outlined the basics. The lake house was about an hour and a half away. His parents were already there. His grandmother would arrive in the morning. Abby would show up late, probably with a new board game and some ridiculous floaty.
“Sleeping arrangements,” he said. “You have the blue room at the end of the hall. I have the room next door. We share a bathroom. Sorry.”
“Shared bathroom?” she squeaked. “That’s… intimate.”
“It’s a Jack-and-Jill setup,” he said quickly. “Two doors. Locks. I swear my grandmother didn’t design it for shenanigans.”
“She absolutely did,” Tessa said.
“She absolutely did,” he admitted. “She thinks nothing encourages honesty like shared sinks.”
“Your family is weird,” Tessa said.
“Says the woman whose mother used guava pastries as a love test,” he countered.
“Touché,” she said.
He ran through the rest. Meals were casual. His dad would insist on grilling, rain or shine. There would be boat time. Photos. Minimal talk of wedding plans, thanks to his firm boundary-setting after brunch.
“And rules,” he finished, glancing at her. “Ours. Remain in full force.”
She swallowed. “Right. No… compromising situations.”
He smiled faintly. “We’re going to be in swimsuits with my entire family present. I think we’re safe.”
“You say that now,” she muttered.
He didn’t ask what she meant. Maybe he knew.
They drove in companionable silence for a while. The city thinned into suburbs, then into stretches of highway flanked by trees. The sky turned from gray to streaks of pink and orange.
“You okay?” he asked after a bit.
“No,” she said, honest. “But… in a way that feels… less like panic and more like… stage fright.”
He nodded. “Opening night nerves.”
“Exactly,” she said. “Except instead of a script, I have your family, who are very good at asking surprisingly deep questions about feelings.”
“My grandmother does have a… talent,” he said wryly.
“She scares me,” Tessa admitted. “In a ‘I kind of want to be her when I grow up’ way.”
“She’d like that,” he said. “She always wanted more granddaughters.”
“Abby isn’t enough?” Tessa asked.
“Abby is… a force,” he said. “She’s like three granddaughters rolled into one. But she doesn’t let Elise fuss over her. You… might.”
“We’ll see,” Tessa said, noncommittal.
As they turned down a tree-lined road, he reached for her hand almost unconsciously, lacing their fingers together on the console.
Her breath caught.
“Sorry,” he said immediately. “Habit.”
“It’s fine,” she said, though her pulse leapt. “We’re on the clock now, right? Performance mode.”
“Right,” he said. “Performance.”
But his thumb still stroked the side of her index finger, small circles that felt anything but rehearsed.
***
The Ward lake house looked like a Pinterest board had been given unlimited funds and a mandate for “rustic but tasteful.”
White clapboard siding. Wraparound porch. Adirondack chairs facing a gently rippling expanse of water that glowed gold in the late sun.
“Wow,” Tessa breathed, stepping out of the car. “You grew up… here?”
“Not full-time,” he said, grabbing her suitcase. “Summers. Long weekends. The occasional ‘forced family fun’ retreat.”
“It looks like a movie set,” she said.
“You should see it at Christmas,” he said. “My mother goes feral with wreaths.”
The screen door banged open.
“There you are!” Abby barreled out, wearing cutoff shorts, a tie-dyed tank, and sunglasses perched on top of her head. “About time, future sister-in-law.”
Tessa barely had time to brace before Abby enfolded her in a hug that smelled like sunscreen and lake water.
“You made it,” Abby said into her hair. “Thank God. Now I’m not the only normal one.”
“I’d argue that label,” Caleb said dryly, hauling the suitcase onto the porch.
Abby released Tessa and punched his arm affectionately. “You, sir, are the most boring person I know.”
“I know our CFO,” he pointed out.
“Fine,” she said. “Second most boring.”
She linked her arm through Tessa’s and tugged her inside.
“Come on,” she said. “I’ll show you your room. Mom’s been fluffing the pillows for days. It’s weird.”
“Abby,” Julia’s voice floated from the kitchen. “Do not terrorize our guest.”
“She’s family, not a guest,” Abby called back. “Terrorizing is included in the package.”
Tessa shot Caleb a helpless look over her shoulder. He just smiled, equal parts apology and fondness.
The blue room at the end of the hall was… charming. Light blue walls. A quilt with tiny sailboats. A window overlooking the lake.
“I love it,” Tessa said, genuinely.
“Good,” Abby said. “We can whisper secrets through the wall.”
“Or,” came Caleb’s dry voice from the hall, “you could both sleep and not get us killed by Elise’s wrath for being cranky at breakfast.”
“Boring,” Abby sang.
As Caleb set the suitcase down, his gaze flicked to the door on the opposite wall—slightly ajar, hinting at another bedroom.
“That’s me,” he said. “If you hear loud snoring, it’s the dog.”
“You don’t have a dog,” Abby pointed out.
“He doesn’t know that,” Caleb said, nodding at Tessa. “We have to ease her into the madness.”
Tessa smiled, placing her toiletry bag on the dresser. The knowledge that he’d be sleeping one thin wall and a shared bathroom away pulsed in her awareness like a low-grade electric current.
Later, after a blur of greetings (Thomas with a bear hug; Julia with a kiss on both cheeks; Elise with a dry, “You came. Sensible girl.”), they had dinner on the deck.
The sun sank, painting the lake in streaks of pink and orange. Fireflies flickered at the edges of the lawn.
“It’s like a postcard,” Tessa murmured.
“Yeah,” Caleb said, not looking at the water. Looking at her.
She pretended not to notice.
Conversation circled around safe topics for a while. Weather. Boat maintenance. Abby’s ongoing war with the corporate office of the non-profit she worked at.
“So,” Thomas said at one point, skewering a piece of grilled chicken. “Wedding plans.”
Julia elbowed him sharply. “We’re not discussing that this weekend.”
“I just asked,” he protested. “I’m making conversation.”
Abby rolled her eyes. “You’re making Tessa want to jump in the lake.”
“I don’t swim well,” Tessa admitted. “So that would be… counterproductive.”
“Your mother said the same thing,” Elise remarked, passing the potato salad. “When I mentioned wedding venues.”
Tessa nearly inhaled a carrot.
“You talked to my mom?” she rasped.
“Of course,” Elise said. “You think I’m going to let my grandson bring home a fiancée without speaking to her mother? Do you take me for a fool?”
“How…” Tessa began, then stopped, afraid of the answer.
“She called me,” Elise said. “Found my email on the internet. Told me, and I quote, ‘If you break her, I’ll break you.’ I respect that.”
Caleb groaned. “Oh my God.”
“It’s nice when your girlfriend’s mother and your grandmother share a temperament,” Abby said gleefully. “Double trouble.”
“Technically fiancée,” Julia corrected.
“Technically, we’re still figuring things out,” Tessa said, then winced at her own honesty.
Elise’s eyes sharpened. “Are we?”
Tessa’s chest tightened. She could feel Caleb’s gaze on her, steady but tense.
“We agreed on a long engagement,” he said smoothly. “No rush.”
“Rush is overrated,” Elise acknowledged. “But so is cowardice.”
Abby choked on her wine.
“Elise,” Julia hissed.
“What?” Elise demanded. “We all know he dragged his feet for years. Now he’s finally found someone with a spine and a brain, and he wants to… workshop the timeline.”
Tessa’s cheeks burned. “I don’t want to… workshop anything.”
Silence fell. All eyes on her.
“I just…” She ran her fingers along the condensation on her glass. “I want to make sure we’re… choosing this. Not reacting. To… expectations. Headlines. Pressure.”
Julia’s expression softened. “That’s very… wise,” she said slowly.
Elise studied her for a long moment. Then, unexpectedly, she inclined her head.
“Good,” she said. “I’d be more worried if you were barreling into this blind.”
The tension broke. Abby made a ridiculous joke about eloping to Vegas. Someone brought out marshmallows. Caleb brushed his fingers against Tessa’s under the table, a small comfort.
Later, when the plates were cleared and the night had settled soft and dark over the lake, Abby dragged them all down to the dock.
“S’mores time,” she declared. “I refuse to let Tessa leave without the full lake experience.”
“I’m not jumping in,” Tessa warned.
“Baby steps,” Abby said. “First s’mores, then maybe toes.”
They roasted marshmallows over a small fire in a metal pit, the embers crackling. Tessa’s first marshmallow caught fire almost immediately.
“City girl,” Caleb teased, reaching to help.
“You’re one to talk,” she shot back. “Your idea of roughing it is probably a hotel without room service.”
He grinned. “You wound me.”
He took the marshmallow from her, blew it out, peeled off the charred outer shell, and handed her the gooey center.
“Here,” he said softly. “The good part.”
Her breath stuttered as his fingers brushed hers, sticky-sweet.
“That’s debatable,” she managed. “I like the crunch.”
“You would,” he said.
At some point, Abby produced a speaker and started playing music. Thomas and Julia swayed on the dock, years of marriage in their easy movements.
“Dance with me,” Caleb said.
Tessa’s heart leapt. “Here? On the wobbly wood?”
“Trust me,” he said. “I won’t let you fall.”
She hesitated. Then put her hand in his.
He drew her onto the dock, pulling her close, one hand at her waist, the other clasping her right hand. The boards creaked softly under their weight.
Under the moonlight, the ring on her finger flashed.
They moved slowly. He wasn’t an amazing dancer, but he didn’t step on her toes. His body was warm. His breath brushed her temple.
“You’re holding me like I’m made of glass,” she murmured.
He huffed a laugh. “You’re holding *me* like I’m going to bolt.”
She realized she was. Her hand on his shoulder was light, tentative.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said quietly. “Not… tonight.”
She swallowed. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“I keep my promises,” he said. “To a fault.”
“That sounds like a you problem,” she said, trying to lighten the moment.
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
He spun her, just enough to make her laugh, then pulled her back in. Their chests brushed.
No kissing when nobody’s watching, she reminded herself.
Except… they weren’t entirely alone. Abby was staging an off-key sing-along near the fire. Elise sat in a deck chair, pretending not to watch. The night was full of witnesses.
His thumb stroked the small of her back, feather-light.
“You’re doing great,” he murmured.
“At what?” she whispered back. “Faking it?”
“At… being here,” he said. “With them. With me.”
She looked up at him. At the softness in his gaze, the unguarded way he was looking at her. Not performing. Just… seeing.
It made her want to kiss him. Right there, under the moon, with his family ten feet away.
A wave slapped gently against the dock, jolting her back.
“I need water,” she blurted. “Not… the lake. The… inside kind.”
His eyes searched her face. “Okay.”
He released her immediately, letting her go like she was a bird he was determined not to cage.
Back in the kitchen, she gripped the counter, breathing hard. The rules—*her* rules—felt like thin strands against the pull she’d just felt.
This was getting scary.
***
The night deepened. The family trickled to bed. Abby threatened to wake them at dawn for “family yoga.”
“Over my dead body,” Caleb muttered as he brushed his teeth.
Tessa snorted. “I’d pay to see you in downward dog.”
He spit, rinsed, and glared at her in the shared bathroom mirror.
“You enjoy my suffering too much,” he said.
“I find your humanity endearing,” she corrected, wiping her face.
He leaned against the doorframe, watching her as she pat-dried her cheeks.
“You look good here,” he said.
She blinked. “With… toothpaste on my chin?”
He reached out, thumb gently swiping a white foam dot from the corner of her mouth.
Her breath caught.
“Even with toothpaste on your chin,” he said softly.
She froze. The small, stupidly intimate gesture felt like more than any grand proposal.
“Don’t,” she whispered.
His hand dropped. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t… look at me like that,” she said, voice thin.
“Like what?” he asked, too quickly.
“Like this isn’t all…” She gestured between them. “Temporary. Like we’re not on a timer.”
He swallowed. “Hey.”
He took a small step closer, hands raised in a pacifying gesture.
“We’re partners,” he said. “Timer or not.”
Her eyes stung. “I know. That’s… the problem.”
Silence pooled between them.
“Goodnight, Caleb,” she said finally, stepping around him toward her bedroom door.
He let her pass, but spoke as she turned the knob.
“Tessa?”
She paused.
“I’m… glad you’re here,” he said. “Whatever this is. I’m… glad.”
Rule eleven, she thought numbly as she closed her door behind her.
No heartfelt declarations in shared bathrooms.
She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the soft sounds of the house settling. The faint murmur of a TV somewhere. The occasional creak.
She could hear him, too. Footsteps. Closet door. The mattress springs in the room next door.
He was so close. A few feet and a thin strip of drywall.
Her body ached with awareness.
No sharing a bed, she reminded herself. No kissing when nobody’s watching. No—
Something thumped in the bathroom. A muttered curse.
She frowned. Sat up.
“Caleb?” she called softly.
Silence. Then: “I’m fine.”
She slipped out of bed, padded to the bathroom door, and knocked.
“You okay?” she asked.
The door opened a crack. Caleb stood there in gray sleep pants and a t-shirt, hair mussed, looking unreasonably attractive for someone who’d just tripped over a bathmat.
“I stubbed my toe,” he admitted. “On the evil hamper.”
She glanced past him to the overturned clothes basket. “You want me to call 911?”
“Ha,” he said flatly.
Her gaze flicked down involuntarily. The thin fabric of his shirt clung to his chest. Heat crawled up her neck.
“Okay,” she said, stepping back. “Just… wanted to make sure you hadn’t fallen into the toilet or something.”
“I’ll try to contain my bathroom-based injuries,” he said dryly.
She lingered in the doorway. “You… need anything?”
He hesitated. Then shook his head.
“I’m good,” he said. “Goodnight, Tessa.”
She nodded. “Goodnight.”
Back in her bed, she lay awake longer than she wanted to admit, counting his breaths through the wall instead of sheep.
At some point, she drifted off. And dreamed of lake water and rules slipping through her fingers like sand.
***
Morning came with sunlight streaming through the curtains and the smell of coffee wafting up from the kitchen.
Tessa groaned, rolled over—and nearly collided face-first with a wall of warmth.
For one horrifying, delicious second, she thought she was in bed with Caleb.
Then reality snapped into focus.
It was a pillow. Hugged to her chest so tightly her arms ached. The warmth was the patch of sunlight pooling across her blanket.
“Get a grip,” she muttered to herself.
She forced herself out of bed, into fresh clothes, and into the shared bathroom.
He wasn’t there. Good.
She splashed cold water on her face and steeled herself.
Downstairs, the kitchen was full of people and pancakes.
Abby stood at the stove flipping batter. Julia poured coffee. Thomas read the paper. Elise sat at the table, already fully dressed and terrifying.
“Morning,” Tessa said.
“Ah, Sleeping Beauty,” Elise said. “You missed early-morning yoga. Tragic.”
“I heard the chanting,” Tessa said. “I chose life.”
Caleb appeared from the pantry with a bag of flour, hair damp from a shower, smelling annoyingly good.
He smiled when he saw her. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she echoed, taking the mug Julia offered.
“After breakfast,” Thomas announced, “boat time.”
“Boat time,” Abby repeated like a battle cry.
Tessa’s stomach did a small nervous flip.
“I have a thing,” she said weakly. “With… land.”
“You’ll like it,” Abby insisted. “We’ll go slow. No one’s going to force you to waterski on the first outing.”
“Yet,” Caleb murmured.
She shot him a look over her coffee mug. He winked.
Later, standing on the dock in her black one-piece and Lana’s borrowed sundress, she felt more exposed than she had in years.
Not because of the suit, which was reasonably modest. But because of all the eyes—friendly, curious, appraising.
Caleb, in swim trunks and a t-shirt, looked like he belonged here in a way she never could. Sunlight kissed his shoulders. The faint line of hair on his chest peeked above the collar.
Stop looking at his chest, she scolded herself.
“You okay?” he asked, voice low, as the others busied themselves with life jackets and ropes.
“No,” she said. “But I’ll fake it.”
He smiled. “We’re good at that.”
He held out a hand to help her onto the boat. She took it.
The afternoon blurred into a montage of sun and spray and shrieks. Abby whooped as she cut across the wake on skis. Thomas steered carefully with the gentle competence of someone who’d been doing this for decades.
Tessa, true to her word, did not get in the water.
“You can sit on the edge and dangle your feet,” Abby coaxed. “The fish aren’t out to get you.”
“They might be in league with Denby,” Tessa muttered.
Caleb laughed, low. “You’re safe,” he said. “I promise.”
She believed him more than she believed the fish.
At one point, as the boat idled in a quiet cove, Elise came to sit beside her on the bench, watching Abby do yet another loop.
“You look… relaxed,” Elise commented.
“I’m trying not to think about my email,” Tessa said.
“Email will exist whether you think about it or not,” Elise said. “Better to decide what parts of your life you let it invade.”
“That’s very… Zen,” Tessa said.
“I took a mindfulness course,” Elise said. “It was terrible. But I learned at least one useful sentence.”
She turned, her gaze piercing.
“You’re good for him,” she said abruptly.
Tessa blinked. “I’m… what?”
“He’s different with you,” Elise said. “Less… calculating. More… himself.”
Tessa swallowed. “He is… himself with me?”
“As much as he knows how to be,” Elise said. “Which isn’t enough. Yet.”
“Wow,” Tessa said. “That therapy course really unlocked you.”
Elise’s mouth twitched. “Don’t tell my bridge club.”
A splash cut through their conversation. Abby screamed with delighted outrage as Caleb used the boat ladder to climb back in from the water, hair dripping, shirt clinging.
He shook his head like a wet dog. Droplets hit Tessa’s leg, cool and startling.
“Sorry,” he said, grinning, breathless.
He looked… ridiculously good like this. Alive in a way she hadn’t seen in boardrooms and brunches.
She forced her eyes back to the horizon.
If she let herself, she thought, she could fall in love with this version of him.
Which, of course, was exactly why she couldn’t.
***
That night, after too much grilled food and a heated game of charades that revealed Caleb was inexplicably terrible at miming movie titles, Tessa found herself alone with him on the porch.
The others had drifted inside. The cicadas hummed. The lake was ink-black, dotted with glittering reflections.
They sat on the steps, shoulders almost touching, each holding a beer.
“I feel like I’ve been here a month,” Tessa said. “In a good way. Mostly.”
“In an exhausting way,” he corrected.
“Tomato, tomahto,” she said.
He took a sip. “So,” he said. “This weekend. Too much? Too… intense?”
She thought. “It’s… a lot,” she said honestly. “But… it’s also… nice. Messy. Real.”
He watched her, something like hope flickering.
“I like them,” she added. “Your family.”
“They like you,” he said. “It’s… unnerving.”
“Why?” she asked.
“They didn’t like my last girlfriend,” he said. “At all.”
She tensed. “Oh.”
He seemed to realize what he’d said, and laughed softly.
“I mean,” he amended, “they were polite. My mother tried. My grandmother was… suspicious. But there was no… warmth. Not like this.”
“What happened?” she asked before she could stop herself.
He stared at the beer bottle for a long moment.
“She liked the… trappings,” he said finally. “The parties. The status. The… photo ops.”
“And you?” Tessa asked softly.
“I was… part of the package,” he said. “She liked what I represented. What being with me did for her… brand.”
“That sounds… lonely,” Tessa said.
“It was,” he said quietly. “When it ended, my grandmother said, ‘Next time, choose someone who looks at you the way you look at spreadsheets.’”
Tessa snorted. “Wow. Romantic *and* nerdy.”
“She meant,” he went on, “someone who sees past the… surface. Who doesn’t flinch at the boring parts. Who knows I’m more than… this.”
He gestured vaguely at the house, the lake, the life.
“And you think that’s… me?” she asked, heart beating too fast.
“Sometimes,” he said, looking at her. “When you’re not telling me off.”
“I tell you off because I see you,” she said. “Not in spite of it.”
His mouth curved. “Exactly.”
Her chest tightened. This—this was dangerous. This honest, quiet recognition.
“We have to be careful,” she said, half to herself.
“Careful,” he echoed. “Because of the rules.”
“Yes,” she said quickly. “We made them for a reason. Lines. Boundaries. To keep this from… bleeding into real life too much.”
He turned the bottle in his hands. “Is this not… real life?”
“You know what I mean,” she said. “After. When the… timer runs out.”
He swallowed. “Right.”
Silence settled, heavy.
“I don’t want you to regret this,” he said finally. “Any of it. The gala. The brunch. This… weekend. Me.”
She stared at him. At the vulnerability dug deep into that last word.
“I don’t,” she said, voice rough. “Not… yet.”
“Yet,” he repeated, a wry smile ghosting.
“It’s not nothing,” she added, surprising herself. “You… being here. With me. Doing this… together.”
His eyes met hers, something unguarded in them.
Without fully deciding to, she reached over and covered his hand with hers on the step.
He inhaled sharply.
“Tessa…” he began.
The porch light flicked on. Julia’s voice floated out.
“Kids,” she called. “We’re watching a movie. Come pick something before your father puts on that documentary about train systems again.”
“Saved by the mom,” Tessa muttered, pulling her hand back.
Caleb gave a short, strained laugh. “She has good timing.”
They stood. As they did, his fingers brushed the small of her back.
It felt, for a moment, less like an act and more like… instinct.
Which, she reminded herself fiercely, was the real danger.
***