“Seriously?” Christopher asks. “You're going to let that deter you?”

“I don't think I have much of a choice here,” I explain. “She's made up her mind. Sasha doesn't want to be with me.”

I'm standing in front of the mirror in my room, trying on ties to go with my dark blue, almost black, suit. Christopher is lounging in the plush chair near the fireplace, one leg draped casually over the arm. I’ll admit, I’m still having trouble adjusting to this new and improved version of Christopher. The more relaxed and casual Chris. It's like the goddamn pod people switched him out on me.

Neither Neal nor my mother had adequately prepared me for the dramatic change in my brother.

The whole thing is weird.

“Do you need your big brother to teach you a few things about women and relationships?”

I laugh. “I think everything you can teach me about women, I could condense down into a shot glass,” I say and hold up a striped tie. “What do you think?”

He shakes his head. “Go with the solid cream-colored one,” he says. “The blue makes the color of the suit pop.”

Turning back to the mirror, I hold up the tie and nod. He's right. Just because she doesn't want to be with me doesn't mean I'm going to make this decision easier on her. I plan on looking my best and being charming as hell. Hopefully she will see the error in her thinking.

A small part of me hopes that once we're both back in L.A., and away from the pressures of family, she'll have a miraculous change of heart.

“I've got to say, little brother, I'm shocked right now,” Christopher says.

“How so?”

“Well one, that you're falling this hard for a woman to begin with,” he says. “What happened to not needing a woman to complete you?”

I chuckle. “I don't need a woman to complete me,” I say. “But sometimes, having some companionship makes the days easier to get through. It seems to be agreeing with you these days, I might add.”

He nods. “It is. It feels good,” he says. “I'm just surprised by you. Of the three of us, you've always been the least emotional and sentimental. Honestly, I never thought the day would come when a woman would have you all twisted up into knots.”

“Neither were you,” I say. “And now look at you – you're basically reciting poetry and shit.”

“Hardly. I am just enjoying the company of a beautiful woman who happens to transform my normal ways of thinking and feeling.”

I turn and give him a long, even look. “Really?” I ask. “Transform your normal ways of thinking and feeling? That's some Hallmark shit if I've ever heard it.”

“The other thing that surprises me is that you're giving up so easily,” he says. “That’s just not the Miles Churchill I know.”

“I'm not giving up,” I say as I start to tie my tie. “I'm simply trying to respect her decision.”

“People change their minds all the time,” he says.

I nod. “Yeah, that's true,” I say. “But usually, there's a motivating factor behind it.”

“So, become that motivating factor,” he says. “Give her a reason to change her mind.”

Tightening and straightening my tie, I turn around and look my brother dead in the eye. “You seem oddly invested in this,” I say. “Why are you so worried about whether or not Sasha and I get together?”

“Well, honestly? I've never seen you look this happy before,” he says.

“Come on, that’s total bullshit,” I say and laugh. “That’s some Hallmark shit right there, you damn poet.”

He shrugs. “What can I say? Alice has opened my eyes and my heart.”

I roll my eyes and laugh. “This is totally destroying everything I thought I could count on in this life – death, taxes, and my brother always acting like a cold, emotionless robot.”

He laughs, but when he speaks, his tone is serious. “I mean it, Miles. You get this light in your eyes when you talk about her. I've never seen it in you before, which tells me something about this woman is really special. This kind of connection doesn’t come around too often. You can't let her go.”

“It's not my choice, Christopher,” I say. “I can't force Sasha to date me if she doesn't want to.

She just needs help getting out of a stupid situation with her family. Nothing more and nothing less. She told me what happened between us wasn’t going to happen again. She was really clear about that.”

“Was she?” he asks. “Or was she trying to convince herself?”

I turn back to the mirror and smooth out my jacket again, then check my watch for the time.

“Shit. I'm going to be late,” I say, then turn to Christopher. “Thanks for the pep talk, coach.”

I head for the door and his voice calls to me, echoing down the long holiday. “Then get off the sidelines and into the game, Miles! Be the reason she's looking for.”

“Be the reason she's looking for. Right,” I mutter to myself. “That's definitely some Hallmark shit right there.”

Jesus, what happened to my brother?

“It's wonderful to meet you, Miles,” she says. “I'm Kathy, Sasha's mom.”

“Pleasure to meet you as well,” I say, handing her the bottle of wine and flowers I brought.

“These are gorgeous. And the wine is wonderful. I love merlots,” she beams. “Thank you very much.”

“You're very welcome.”

Sasha stands to the side, an incredulous look on her face. Her mother is the exact opposite – all smiles and full of cheer. She hardly seems like the brooding hypochondriac Sasha makes her out to be. But then again, what do I know?

“Hi, I'm Sarah.”

I turn at the sound of the voice behind me and it's like looking at a carbon copy of Sasha. They have the same figure, raven-black hair, and fathomless blue eyes. Sasha is the taller of the two by a couple of inches, but other than that, they could almost be twins.

“It's nice to meet you, Sarah,” I say. “I'm Miles.”

“The mystery man in the dark SUV,” she says.

“That's me.”

“Tell me, do you make it a habit of bringing girls home at four in the morning?”

Her tone is teasing, but I can tell it really bothers her I brought Sasha home so late. It clearly messes with her plan for the universe. Sarah is obviously a massive control freak, just like Sasha described.

I know because we can usually smell our own. Her compulsion and need for control seems far worse than mine, though. Sarah might even be worse than Chris. The old Chris, at least.

“Sarah,” Sasha scolds her.

I chuckle. “You're what, twenty?”

“Twenty-one,” she corrects me haughtily.

I nod. “Well, one day you're going to meet someone special whose company you enjoy so much, you lose all track of time,” I say. “You'll get to talking and enjoying the conversation so much, the next thing you know, you look up and it's practically the next day.”

I look over at Sasha, who has remained quiet and subdued this whole time. She looks incredibly uncomfortable, like she's afraid I'm going to blow this or something. If she doesn't pull herself together and start acting the part of the loving girlfriend, though, she's going to be the one spending the rest of her holidays being tortured and tormented, as she put it.

“Your sister does that to me,” I continue. “I enjoy being around her so much that I frequently lose track of time. She's great to talk to. Great listener. Funny. Smart. Yeah, I'm a lucky guy. Sasha is the total package.”

“Really?” Sarah asks. “Are you talking about Sasha? That doesn't sound anything like the woman I grew up with.”

“Sarah,” her mother admonishes her.

“You'll have to forgive my sister,” Sasha says. “She's just grumpy because the batteries in her boyfriend ran out this morning, so he won't be joining us for dinner.”

Kathy sighs and looks between her girls, an expression of disapproval on her face. She turns back to me with a sheepish smile.

“You'll have to forgive my girls,” Kathy says. “They tend to forget they're both grown women and not fifteen anymore.”

Sarah looks at me like I've grown a second head, but her mother is smiling wide.

“Yes, I'm talking about your sister,” I say lightly to Sarah. “You really should be nicer to her. She's great. The most amazing woman I've ever met.”

Without another word and a look of sheer disgust on her face – Sarah turns and exits the room.

Kathy shakes her head. “Well, I guess I'll go put these in water,” she says. “Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Sasha says. “We’ll be in shortly.”

Kathy turns and follows her daughter into the kitchen, leaving Sasha and I standing in the living room alone. My first impulse is to pull her to me and kiss her. I'm pretty sure it wouldn't be well received, though, so I fight off the urge as best I can – but it still lingers in the back of my mind

“Laying it on kind of thick, aren't you?” she asks me.

I shrug. “I can lay it on even thicker if you'd like.”

She finally cracks a smile. “Yeah, I think I’ll pass on that.”

I smile back at her. “Your sister is such a charmer.”

“Hence, her being single,” she says. “She doesn't understand why men can't seem to overlook such a repellent personality.”

I laugh. “She's young. Naive,” I say. “She'll grow out of it.”

“I wouldn't count on it,” she says. “My sister is an angry, eighty-year old woman trapped in an immature twenty-one-year old's body.”

We stand there awkwardly, neither of us knowing what to say. The air in the room is charged with a potent sexual chemistry. Our eyes meet and for the briefest moment, I think she's going to reach up and kiss me. I see the desire in her eyes and the familiar tension in her body as her lips part expectantly. She's fighting herself, though, I wish she wouldn't. I wish she'd give in to her urges.

“Anyway,” she finally says, breaking the spell between us. “Thank you for doing this, Miles. I really appreciate you bailing me out like this.”

I nod. “Of course.”

“Sasha, Miles,” her mother calls out. “Dinner is ready.”

I give her a smile. “So? Shall we do this?”

“Yup,” she says. “Let's do this.”

I take her by the hand, the warmth and smoothness of her skin stirring feelings of longing once more. She doesn't pull her hand back, but gives me a warm, genuine smile instead – the first I've seen from her tonight. Together, we walk into the dining room and take a seat at the table.

“Everything looks wonderful,” I say. “I appreciate you having me tonight.”

“We appreciate you coming,” Kathy says.

“Yeah, I’m shocked that you're actually real,” Sarah chimes in.

Sasha glares at her sister, but holds her tongue. I can't help but laugh at the two of them. The sibling rivalry between the pair of them is intense and I can't help but wonder if people see and hear the same thing between Christopher and I – back when Christopher was an emotionless robot, that is.

“Sarah,” her mother scolds her.

“It's okay,” I say. “I've got two brothers and ribbing on each other is just part of the sibling experience.”

“Well, I for one, am certainly more than a little tired of it,” Kathy says. “I imagine your mom has had her fill as well.”

I grin. “Yeah, she's been known to give us a smack upside the head to keep us in line when it becomes too much to handle.”

“Smart woman,” Kathy laughs. “I like her already.”

I take a sip of water as they start to dish out the meal. Sasha starts passing plates to her mother who dishes out large slices of homemade lasagna. The aroma is amazing, and it saturates the air, making my mouth water. Once everybody is served, we dig into our meals and silence reigns for a few moments.

“So, Miles, how long have you two been together?” Sarah finally asks.

I look over at Sasha, not really sure what she's told them. So, I take a page out of her own playbook and give her a devilish smile.

“Well, it feels like we've known each other forever,” I say.

I give her a wink, wondering if she recognizes her own words thrown back at her. Judging by the sudden flare of color in her cheeks, she does.

“We've actually only been together for about eight months or so in reality,” Sasha says.”

“Well, is it getting serious?” Kathy asks.

“After eight months, Mom?” Sasha says.

Kathy shrugs. “You just never know these –”

I look at Sasha, feigning a look of surprise. “You didn't tell them?”

“Tell us what?” Sarah asks.

Sasha looks at me with a panic-stricken expression on her face. She's begging me with her eyes not to do – whatever it is I'm about to do. I don’t even know yet, to be honest.

“Well, I don't want to let the cat out of the bag, but –”

“Then don't,” Sasha interrupts me quickly. “At least, not yet.”

“Pumpkin, don’t you want your family to be the first to hear the good news?”

“Good news?” Kathy asks.

“Yeah, what good news?” Sarah echoes, a concerned look on her face.

“Nothing,” Sasha says. “We have no news, good or otherwise to report.”

I lean over and kiss her cheek. “You're so shy, it’s adorable,” I tease before turning back to her family. “Actually, we're getting married!”

“Miles,” Sasha hisses.

Kathy clamps her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. Sarah is staring me down with eyes filled with suspicion. And Sasha is glaring at me with palpable murderous intent – like she wants to stab me with her fork. In fact, I wouldn't put it past her to try it later, when we're alone.

“That is wonderful news, Sasha,” Kathy cries. “Why didn't you tell us?”

Sasha looks uncomfortable and shoots another dark glare at me. “Oh, you know,” she says. “I was waiting for the right time.”

“Are you pregnant?” Sarah asks bluntly. “Did you knock her up and now have to marry her or something?”

“Sarah!” Kathy almost shouts. “Stop. This is such an exciting announcement; don't you dare try to rain on your sister's parade. Do you have a date picked out yet?”

Sasha kicks me under the table and shoots me a fresh glare. “Not yet. It kind of just happened,” she says. “We’re planning on a very long engagement. Very long.”

I grin at her but she couldn’t be less amused. I thought it was funny. And it's not like any of this is going to matter in the long run anyway. Once the holidays are over, she'll announce our break up to her family and our lives will go on.

“Kind of soon, don't you think?” Sarah asks.

I shrug. “When it’s right, you just know,” I say and lean over, planting a kiss on Sasha's cheek. “Don’t you agree, honey?”

Though she gives me a smile, I see the rage burning behind her eyes. She really needs to lighten up and have a little bit of fun with this work of fiction we're creating. She's a writer, so this should be a fun exercise for her. No need to take it so seriously.

“I can't believe you didn't tell us before,” Kathy says, a note of genuine hurt in her voice.

“I was going to,” Sasha replies quickly. “When the time was right. I swear.”

“If you're engaged, where's the ring?” Sarah presses.

“It's being sized,” I answer smoothly. “I had it made custom, so it's taking some time to finish.”

Sasha looks like she wants to crawl into a hole and let the earth swallow her whole. Sarah eyes me critically, like she’s desperately trying to prove that this is all a lie and that Sasha and I aren't really together, let alone getting married. For whatever reason, I can tell she abhors the very idea.

I have to say; this girl is incredibly invested in making her sister's life miserable. She's all in on it. It would almost be impressive if it wasn’t such an asshole thing to do.

Of course, she's using almost the same exact tactics that I use on the opposing counsel when I'm in court; Sarah is casting doubt on anything and everything. The girl is smart. Cold and maybe even cruel, but smart. The girl is smart. Cold and maybe even cruel, but smart.

“And how did you two meet again?” Kathy asks.

“Yeah, Sasha's been a bit vague about that,” Sarah chimes in. “Of course, she's been pretty vague about a lot of things when it comes to you.”

I chuckle. “We actually met in a hot yoga class,” I say.

Sasha kicks me under the table, but I ignore it. I'm at least going to have some fun with this – well, more fun than I'm already having at her expense.

“Hot yoga?” Sarah asks with an incredulous expression on her face.

“Yeah,” I say. “Your sister is amazing. She could probably be teaching the class herself. Who knew hot yoga could lead to a lifetime of not just healthy living, but loving too?”

It's a horribly cheesy line, but Kathy laughs anyway, and Sarah gives me a courtesy chuckle. All I get from Sasha is a stone-faced expression. She looks over and gives me a tight smile.

“I'm not that good at yoga,” is all she mutters.

“Sure you are, sweetie,” I say. “No need to be modest among family.”

She kicks me again, clearly not pleased that I'm going off script – not that we actually have a script to work off of – but, I just smile even wider and she tries to play it off.

“I didn't know you were into yoga, dear,” Kathy says.

Probably to avoid having to answer the question, Sasha takes a big bite of food and simply nods as she chews.

“And what do you do, Miles?” Sarah asks.

“I'm an attorney,” I say.

“An attorney,” Kathy says, clearly impressed. “And what kind of law do you practice?”

“Civil law, mostly,” I say. “Typically, my clients are people who've been wronged or injured by corporations. It's my job to make them pay for what they've done. It's probably not as exciting as criminal law and putting bad guys behind bars, but I like to think that I do some good.”

“Wow, a real protector of the weak, huh?” Sarah quips.

“Someone has to help these people,” I counter. “The corporations certainly don't. They’ll try to get away with whatever they can when they think no one is looking. I don't know what that makes me, but I believe in not tearing people down and trying to put some good out into the world.”

I look at Sarah who, at least for the moment, seems to be too flabbergasted to speak. She avoids my gaze, choosing instead to shovel a large forkful of food into her mouth. Sasha does the same as she picks at her food.

Finally, Sarah seems to regain her footing and looks back up at me. “So, Sasha says you live in Los Angeles as well?”

I nod. “Sure do.”

“Huh,” she says. “And yet, your family is here in Washington? That's quite the coincidence.”

I nod again. “Yeah, I grew up over in Shadow Pines,” I say. “Moved down to California for school – I went to Stanford – then relocated to L.A. Been there ever since. I think it's fate that we met, don't you Sash?”

Sasha clears her throat and puts on a smile that couldn't look more fake if she tried. “Yeah, fate. Whatever you say.”

“Wow,” Kathy says. “Shadow Pines?”

I nod. “Yeah, I guess I've been pretty fortunate in life.”

“I'll say,” Sarah says.

Kathy and her youngest daughter share a look that makes Sasha roll her eyes. Clearly, they're more impressed by my zip code than she is. Not that I really blame her. I didn't grow up in Shadow Pines because of anything I did. I just happened to be born into a family with the right connections and resources. Not that I haven't taken advantage of it to the fullest, but the fact remains – I've been very fortunate and privileged in my life.

As I think about it now though, I start to wonder if that was the motivating factor in my decision to strike out on my own. I wanted to make a name for myself – by myself. While I'm eternally grateful for every opportunity and advantage my surname has given me, the fact that I've been able to build my law firm on my own – well, with Nate – means something to me. It means a lot.

Christ, I sound just as optimistic as Chris and Nate do right now.

“So, Sarah,” I say. “What about you? Your sister tells me you're in school?”

“Yes, I'm taking classes at Washington,” she says. “I'm going into accounting.”

“Accounting?”

“It's a steady, stable job,” she says proudly. “People will always have to pay taxes, so I'll never be out of work.”

“That's very true,” I say. “Smart thinking.”

“It's certainly a lot more practical than trying to be a writer,” she says, her eyes narrowing as she looks at her older sister.

Sasha glares back, her jaw clenching. I understand some of the tension between the two of them. Sarah obviously doesn't approve of her sister's desire to pursue her passion – probably why she treats her so poorly and questions every single decision she makes. And Sasha obviously resents her sister trying to control every aspect of her life.

“Your sister is an exceptionally talented writer,” I say. “She's going to make it. Mark my words. It's a matter of when, not if.”

Sasha looks at me, her eyes wide and a scowl on her face. She quickly composes herself, but I quickly realize my mistake. She doesn't know I snooped through her computer. She should have allowed for the possibility, given the fact that I found out who she is, which means I obviously had to snoop through her things. But I guess she sees a big difference between digging through her purse and rifling through her manuscripts.

“I guess we'll see,” Sarah says. “I just don't think working in a bar and trying to be a writer is the most practical career choice. I think she could do so much more with her life. If she is that talented, why hasn’t she found success yet? She's been at this for at least –”

“Sarah, that's not very nice,” Kathy finally interjects. “What she really means is that she's worried about your future, Sasha. She doesn't want you to work in that filthy bar for the rest of your life, begging for tips to keep food in your belly. That's all.”

Sasha's face falls and she looks down at her plate, nothing but dismay reflected in her eyes. I learn something else about Sasha's family dynamic – they're not supportive of her. At all. Maybe it's because I came from a family that has the means that allowed me to explore my every passion and find my own path. Maybe that's part of my privilege – that I have their unwavering support to be whoever and whatever I want.

But I can see the emotional toll that having the support of her family behind her is having on my fake fiancée. I can see how their doubt weighs on her. The fact that her sister degrades her and runs her down about pursuing her passion is eating away at her sense of self-worth and self-esteem.

It really pisses me off.

“You know, Sarah, we only have a really short time on this planet,” I say. “Being able to spend that time doing something we love and that makes us happy and fulfills us, makes our lives worth living. Maybe one day, when you're older and have more life experience under your belt, you'll understand that.”

“That's nice and all, Miles,” the younger Gates daughter spits. “But at some point, we all need to grow up and become adults and do things like pay bills.”

“As far as I can tell, Sasha does that just fine,” I say. “She's not homeless. She has her own place. She has food in the pantry. Why should her life plan adhere to yours? Furthermore, who are you to dictate what she should and shouldn't do with her life?”

“I'm just saying –”

“You're just saying,” I interrupt, cutting her off, “that you know what's best for her and that if she doesn't fall in line with what you think is right or proper, that she's a lesser person somehow. How arrogant is that? How condescending is that, Sarah?”

I know that getting into it with her sister is not going to endear me to her mom. But, in the short time I've been with them, that's all Sarah seems to do – run Sasha down. And for the most part, her mom sits back and nervously watches while she does it.

I suddenly understand exactly why Sasha chose to deceive my family and spend a few days with us, rather than come home to this.

“Are you really going to let your boyfriend speak to me like this?” Sarah asks Sasha.

“Fiancé,” I snap. “I'm her fiancé.”

“Right, my bad,” Sarah says sarcastically. “Sasha, are you really going to let this man, who you'll wind up being married to for less than six months, speak to me this way?”

“Wow, you are a real piece of work,” I say.

Sasha finally looks up from her plate. Her eyes are filled with fire as she looks at me, shrugs, and says nothing. Yeah, I'm probably out of line. But I don't care. The only person I only care about in this room is Sasha. I can’t stand to see her sister disparage her like this. It's not right and if she isn’t going to stand up for herself, I'm going to stand up for her.

Sarah turns her eyes on me, giving me a baleful stare. I glance over at Kathy, who's staring back at me, probably dumbfounded by the childish reaction of her youngest daughter coupled with my outburst. Clearly, nobody had ever tried to put Sarah in her place before – which might be why she's turned into such a monstrous control freak.

“I don't know who the hell you think you are,” Sarah starts, her voice low and tight with anger. “To come into this house –”

“Enough, Sarah!” Sasha screams, slamming her fist down on the table so hard, it rattles everything, nearly tipping over our glasses of wine. “Just shut up!”

Sarah and Kathy both jump but I turn to Sasha, glad to finally see some fire in her. What she has to put up with is bullshit. She absolutely needs to stand up for herself.

“I don't know who in the hell you think you are, Sarah,” she says. “You can’t fucking judge me. You don't know what I dealt with growing up. You never had to deal with the emotional baggage of Mom just sitting idly by, letting it all happen. You are pretty much forcing me to relive my childhood experience, Sarah – someone is allowed to abuse me while Mom doesn’t do a damn thing about it.”

I glance over at Kathy and see that her eyes are red. There's a look of genuine remorse and shame on her face. She knows that she screwed up and damaged her daughter – damages Sasha's still paying for, all these years later. Sarah, on the other hand, looks confused. She looks from me, to her mom, to Sasha, and back again. There are plenty of questions on her face, but no answers forthcoming – at least, none that anyone feels like volunteering.

“What are you even talking about, Sasha?” Sarah asks. “What did you have to deal with that was so bad?”

“You don't even want to know,” Sasha hisses. “Let's just leave it at – I didn't have the sunshine and rainbows childhood you did. We protected you and made sure of that. Didn’t we, Mom?”

Kathy suddenly looks stricken with grief. She looks at me, then at her girls. Silently, she stands up from the table.

“I – I'm sorry, Miles,” she says. “I'm not feeling well. I need to go lay down.”

She disappears from the kitchen and a moment later, I hear a door in the back of the house close. Sasha, Sarah, and I are left at the table, looking at one another in silence. The atmosphere of the dining room is tense and charged with anger.

Sarah looks at me with pure and utter contempt in her eyes – as if I'm to blame for the shitshow the evening has turned into. Hell, maybe I am. I don't know. All I know is that there was no way I was going to let this little brat badger and berate her sister like that. Somebody had to stand up for Sasha since it’s suddenly very clear to me that nobody in this fucking house ever has.

We're sitting alone in the car outside. The night is dark – it's overcast, so there isn't any moonlight to see by. After the fiasco at dinner, Sasha wanted to get out of there, so we went for a drive, ending up at a quiet, secluded spot on a bluff overlooking the town. It's a place I frequented when I was younger – when I wanted to either clear my head or spend time alone with a girl.

We sit in silence for a long while, individually processing everything that was said and done over dinner. It was an intensely emotional night for Sasha and her family. I feel bad for the role I played in that. I certainly didn't make things any easier on anybody. I just wanted the night to be fun – and to tease Sasha – to pay her back and have some fun at her expense.

The song Bittersweet Symphony comes on the radio, the music filling the interior of the car, and I listen to it for a moment. I want to say something to make Sasha feel better, but I have no idea what. Knowing I need to say something, I reach forward to turn the radio off, but Sasha puts her hand on mine, stopping me.

“This is one of my favorite songs,” she says. “Let it play?”

I try to give her my best reassuring smile. “Of course.”

I recline in my seat and quickly realize that she hasn’t let go of my hand. I give her hand a gentle squeeze and lean my head against the headrest, closing my eyes as the song plays. It is a beautiful song; I can see why it speaks to her. When the song fades out, she reaches forward and turns the radio down.

“I wanted to apologize for the way tonight went,” I say. “That really wasn't my intention.”

“I know,” she says. “I know you were only trying to screw with me to pay me back for what I did. I get that.”

I nod. “Yeah,” I say. “I guess I never counted on your sister being that invested in making you so unhappy.”

She shrugs. “I tried to tell you.”

I give her a wry grin. “Big difference between hearing it and seeing it for myself.”

“True enough,” she says. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Did you really mean what you said about my work?” she asks.

“Every word of it,” I reply. “If I'd had more time, I would have read more. But I was on a clock and needed to finish rifling through the rest of your stuff before you could come into the room and catch me.”

She gives me a smile and looks down at our hands, which are still joined together, as if somehow surprised they still are. A wan smile touches her lips, but she still doesn't pull her hand away. I'm kind of surprised she's not pissed that I invaded her privacy and read her work. I guess maybe, compared to how shitty the rest of the night turned out, it's a minor infraction and maybe, the only part that brought her any joy.

“I never asked you – how did you know I wasn't your brother's girlfriend in the first place?”

A soft laugh passes my lips. “I suspected it from the get-go. When you spoke about him, it seemed clear that you had no idea who you were talking about. At least, to me, anyway,” I say. “But then, he called me later to apologize for Alice not showing up at the airport which sealed the deal. Obviously.”

She nods, a small, sad smile on her face. She turns and looks out at the sparkling city below the windshield. Her face is troubled, and I would give almost anything to know what’s going through her mind right now.

“For whatever it's worth, now I understand why you wanted a break a couple of days,” I say. “I get it.”

She turns to me, the light of the dashboard making her azure eyes glitter like jewels. “Thank you,” she says. “No one has ever stood up for me like that before. Ever. I just want you to know, it means a lot. Probably more than you can ever know.”

“You're welcome.”

There is so much more I want to say to her. I want to express how I feel and convince her to explore these feelings together. I know she feels something for me too. Like Christopher said earlier – I want to give her a reason. I want to be her reason. I want her to open up to me and invite me into her heart.

Before I can say anything else, she leans forward and kisses me. Our kiss is passionate and filled with the emotions we have for each other – like we are communicating our feelings through the kiss.

Slowly, she pulls back, and her eyes are locked onto mine. Biting her bottom lip, she reaches out and opens the glove box, pulling out one of the condoms inside. My cock strains painfully against my slacks, already begging for release. She hands the condom to me, then reaches down and leans her seat all the way back, leaving her lying nearly flat on her back. I watch with hunger burning in my eyes as she reaches under her dress and wiggles out of her panties. She tosses them to the floorboard, her eyes never leaving mine.

I quickly unbuckle my belt and unzip my pants. Slipping the condom over my stiff cock, I roll it all the way down, then move over to the passenger seat. Positioning myself so that I'm on top of her, I brace myself on my arms, hovering over her. Sasha lifts herself up and kisses me again, harder and with more fire than before. Our tongues swirl together in an erotic dance as I slide my hand underneath her dress.

Running my fingertips along the inside of her thigh, I push her dress up around her waist as she shudders beneath my touch. I press my forehead to hers, our gazes locked as I slide myself forward, and with one deliberate thrust, I bury myself deep inside of her, eliciting a throaty moan from Sasha.

She parts her thighs a little wider, wrapping one of her legs around my waist as I start to pump my hips, moving my cock inside of her. She kisses my neck and digs her nails into my shoulders, faintly crying out as I drive into her at a steady rhythm.

No words are exchanged – there isn’t any need for them. Her warmth and tightness drive me crazy and it's all I can do to not fuck her even harder.

The feel of her body against mine drives me absolutely crazy and I want to devour her. I want to have her over and over again. The way Sasha looks into my eyes as our bodies move together makes me want to slow down and savor each and every moment of this.

Leaning down, I kiss her neck, inhaling her scent like I'm committing it to memory. I kiss her mouth, needing to taste her, and run my hand up her body, feeling her flesh and cupping her breasts. Sasha kisses me harder, nearly stealing my breath as she forces her tongue into my mouth. She writhes beneath me, her body rising up to meet my thrusts, taking me even deeper inside of her.

She cries out softly and I sink my cock even deeper into her, relishing how her body feels beneath me. Sasha bites her bottom lip and squeezes her eyes shut as her entire body tenses up.

A moment later, she explodes with a shuddering gasp and cries out, her body trembling wildly as her orgasm overtakes her. Listening to her cries of pleasure while her pussy spasms on my cock, gripping me even tighter, pushes me over the edge. I throw my head back and moan as I burst inside of her. My cock pulses and throbs inside the condom.

Our foreheads are pressed together again as we stare into each other's eyes and ride out the waves of ecstasy spilling over us. Slowly, our bodies and breathing return to normal and I slip my cock out of her.

Sasha kisses me so passionately, it’s almost violent. It feels like the emotions inside of her are being transmitted through her soft lips.

I get the feeling this kiss is nothing but another way for her to say goodbye.