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Cami is convincing. She talks about our wedding plans like they’re completely and totally real.

Dinner, mercifully, winds down after several heaping servings of baked Alaska, and we all head back to the lodging. The parents carry their little ones, laughing under their breath as we move quietly through the main space, trying not to wake the baby.

We whisper a goodnight and head down the long path to our own lodge.

Where the king-sized bed is waiting for us.

Cami slips into the bathroom to get ready, and I silently start to set up the couch for my sleeping spot tonight. It’s not going to be comfortable in the least; even a luxury lodge like this doesn’t plan for people to sleep on the couches.

When she comes out from the bathroom, I do my best not to let my eyes linger on her pajamas. They cover her completely—pants and long-sleeve shirt—and still, it feels indecent to look. Quietly, I head into the bathroom to brush my teeth, then settle myself down onto the stiff couch for the night.

Even across the room, I’m hyper-aware of her every movement. The rustle of the sheets. A gentle sigh.

By midnight, still awake and listening to the sound of her breathing, wondering if it’s too late to take her up on sharing the bed after all, I realize this is going to be a very long trip.

CHAPTER 18

CAMI

“Dogsledding?” Patrick asks.

“Yes. Didn’t you read the itinerary?”

Patrick blinks twice and looks between Gloria and me because we’ve replied in sync. We’re standing just outside a large pen containing at least two dozen dogs, which crowd around a single gate, whining and yipping, either waiting for a treat or to be let out.

It’s cold out, but I’m warm in my layered coat, gloves, and hat. When we checked in at the desk, they provided each of us with a helmet, which I hold under my arm as we wait.

I read the itinerary at least five times to pack my clothes and prepare for our outings. How did Patrick not even see that we’re doing dogsledding today?

“I guess I didn’t read it closely enough,” Patrick says, yawning and scrubbing his hand through his hair. He manages to look charmingly innocent with the gesture.

Gloria shoots me a look that says men, and I feel guilty for the camaraderie there. I want to blurt out that Patrick isn’t, really, my man. I don’t have a claim to the frustration of wives and girlfriends everywhere.

Except, since this whole thing started, he kind of is my man. As we wait for the activity to start, my phone buzzes in my pocket.

Poppy: How’s it going? Did you finish your super-secret mission yet?

Cami: No, we just got here!

Cami: We’re going dogsledding today.

Cami: Might be a good chance to impress the Morenos.

Poppy: And Patrick ;)

I quickly turn off my phone, my face heating as I tuck it back into my pocket, hoping Patrick didn’t see those texts. Poppy has been implying from the moment I told her about this whole situation that it will turn out to be real, after all.

“Come on, Cami,” she’d said over the phone the night before our flight left. “A man doesn’t ask you to be his fake fiancée unless he wants you to be his real girlfriend.”

“I’ve never heard that rule,” I’d returned, carefully folding a sweater and trying not to let her ideas get to me. “And I’m pretty sure a guy gets a fake fiancée because he’s not interested in having a girlfriend at all.”

Now, my thoughts are interrupted by one of the dog handlers appearing, waving her hands at all of us to get our attention.

“All right, guys! Thanks so much for coming out today!” The dog handler grins, pops a hip. She’s middle-aged, her hair in a thick braid, a fuzzy headband around her ears. “As you can see, our pups are hot and ready to go! They are born to run—literally—and just itching to get hooked up. We ask that just the adults come in to try their hand at getting them on the line. If you’re not interested, our handlers can prep them, and we can get started with the sled demonstrations.”

Patrick and I stand next to each other and watch as several of the Morenos try their hands at untangling and hooking up the dogs. There’s lots of laughter and jumping dogs, which reminds me of home. I can’t help but think about what it would look like if my family was out here.

“What are you thinking about?”