Jess spent a long time in the bathroom, staring at her reflection, trying to quell the wave of tears threatening to destroy her.

Sometime in the three hours trudging through the woods, she’d realized this had all been a horrible mistake.

You aren’t right for him, and he isn’t right for you. This is a ruse, a farce, a mistake that is going to bite you in the ass harder than you can even imagine. Why would you pretend to be engaged to a man who lives and breathes adventure, when all you want to do is stay home and study?

The truth was crippling, in a way she couldn’t have imagined two weeks ago. Back before she’d known to weigh these facts like nuggets of gold. Back before she’d made the mistake of allowing her heart even an inch in the game.

“Marigold, are you quite all right in there?” Alistair’s voice drifted in from great room of the cabin. She cleared her throat, forcing the emotion to recede.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She released her iron grip on the edge of the counter, knuckles white. “Just recuperating from our marathon climb.”

His easy laughter rippled through her. “Oh, was that a marathon? I’ll show you what a marathon is later tonight.”

She smiled sadly into the mirror. This was what dating was about. Learning about the other person, finding out the ways in which people fit or didn’t fit together, like poorly cut puzzle pieces with missing segments, or like specifically engineered motors that hummed and whirred in unison.

Jess felt like the jagged shard of a torn puzzle piece. She couldn’t fit into Alistair’s personal life no matter how hard she tried to ram herself in. The chemistry was great, but it wasn’t enough. They had a work relationship that could pose, temporarily, as an intimate relationship during a bout of amnesia.

This will be over soon. Enjoy it while it lasts.

She repeated that to herself a few times, squeezing her eyes shut, digging deep for her reserves of willpower. This would be a lovely little getaway, even if she had to force herself to withstand the unpleasant sensation of a wet, foreign sock clinging to her cold foot. Tomorrow, they’d be back to civilization. And the day after that…on their way to Seattle.

Where the real shit show would begin.

She breezed out of the bathroom, trying to appear calm and collected. Like she hadn’t just whined and stomped her way up a mountain worse than a teenager. Alistair was in the kitchen, boiling a kettle of water.

“Time for tea,” he said, “And then our next adventure.”

Her stomach sank again, but she was determined to be a better sport about it. This was so far outside of her comfort zone she couldn’t even remember what her comfort zone looked like. Surprises were one thing…but being forced to trek endlessly through the cold and open air with no real destination in sight? Basically her definition of a nightmare. Even the gorgeous vistas couldn’t temper her Type A need for control.

“I was just about to suggest we put on some tea,” she said, easing onto a stool facing the countertop range.

“But you never drink the tea, I’ve noticed,” Alistair murmured.

“Well, no. I’m not a tea fan. I just remind you because you love it.”

He smirked. “Always so thoughtful and attentive.”

A few moments of silence went by, broken only by the snapping and crackling of the fire. Alistair readied a mug, dropping a tea bag into it. “So, love, I was thinking about what the trip back to America will look like.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to have to clue some people in if I don’t regain my memory by then,” he said.

Her stomach cinched. “Like, tell them you don’t remember anything?”

“Right.” His eyes looked gray and cloudy as he glanced up at her. “I can’t imagine going into work and fielding all sorts of questions and comments when I don’t truly remember.”

She nodded, drumming her fingers against the countertop. “I get it. You wouldn’t be able to pretend for long, at any rate.”

He nodded, switching off the burner when the kettle whined. “But I’m sure people will be understanding. And then life will go on, normal and boring. And then we can begin planning our next adventure.”

She forced her lips into a smile. “Next adventure?”

“I was thinking Peru.” He squinted at her. “The jungle.”

She swallowed hard. All she could think of were mosquitoes. Terrible, enormous, red bug bites. And the heat. Humidity. Sticky skin. Hair clinging to the back of her neck. “What do you want to do there?”

“I don’t know.” He poured the kettle gently over his mug, a fine arc of boiling water hissing against the tea bag. “I was thinking we might do one of those jungle excursions. Like spend two weeks paddling down the Amazon. Live like a local. Kill a jungle rat for sustenance, that sort of thing.”

She wilted, biting back a groan. She couldn’t even act like she wanted to do that. “Man. I don’t know, sweets. I think my version of a vacation would be sitting in a cool hotel room, looking at the jungle.”

Alistair clenched his jaw, nodding. “So maybe we go somewhere else.”

She stuck out her jaw, trying to fend off the swell of emotion again. Maybe she should run back to the bathroom. Claiming hiking-induced illness, or something. “Like where?”

He tilted his head back, squinting up toward the vaulted ceiling. “Survival camp.”

She widened her eyes. That sounded equally as bad as rafting down the Amazon. “Oh, God. I already won’t survive, I can tell you that much.”

He tutted. “But Jess, you haven’t even tried.”

“I don’t need to try to know I won’t like it,” she blurted, her neck flushing with the admission. There. She’d said it, admitted the sorry truth that hung between them like a rank cloud since the second he’d sprung their surprise hike on her that morning. “I’m not as adventurous as you.”

Her words hammered between her ears. Alistair dipped his tea bag a few times, staring at the drink.

“Well, I’m positive you’ll like the next adventure for today,” he said, his words sounding hollow. Or maybe she was just fearful of him confirming the dark truth that she already knew: he wouldn’t want her as she was. He could never actually love her, because they were too different. She’d committed the classic mistake of mankind: allowing herself to fall for someone she knew she shouldn’t even bother with.

“I’m excited,” she forced out, meeting his gaze. And she could be, if she searched deep down. But more than that, she was sad. All of this—the intimacy, the quiet moments in the morning, the heated glances at any hour of the day—she had to give it all back. Say goodbye to the tender trappings of being with someone, a delicacy she’d never allowed herself to taste. And now she knew why. The taste was far too sweet and addictive for her own good.

“Let’s have a bite, and then we’ll head out.” Alistair rummaged in the fridge, pulling out some containers. As he reheated what looked like rice and vegetables, she creased a brow.

“Where did this food come from?”

“It came with the cabin,” Alistair said. “When I reserved it. I got them to stock the fridge for us.”

She grinned. “Look at you. Handling all the details when you normally lose your car keys five times in one day.”

“Necessary to do when trying to surprise my fiancée,” he said.

Her smile fell. And his fiancée had actively despised the majority of the walk to the surprise. Though for Alistair, she suspected the hike itself had been the best part about it. “That’s so like you. You always manage to bring everything together with a flourish.” She paused, watching as he pushed the food around the skillet. “But especially when I least expect it.”

“You talk like I’m a disorganized ruffian,” he said.

“You are,” she said with a laugh. “Your office is always a mess. You can barely keep track of appointments.” She ran her hands through her hair, feeling the familiar prickle of tension just recalling the more infuriating aspects of being his assistant. “But you always pull through. And you always manage to have that stroke of genius, too.”

He winked up at her. “Probably because I have someone like you at my side.”

The smile returned to her face slowly, turning his words over and over again until they no longer made sense to her. “Yeah. Could be.”