Page 16 of It’s Me, but Different

“Don't give me that look. Tomorrow is the day off at The Peak, our restaurant at 10,000 feet. You'll be able to enjoy the best sunset views before dinner. It's something unique, you'll see. I'll leave dinner prepared for you, but from there you're on your own. Remember the waiters are off.”

I hide my face in my hands so Esme can't see how red I just turned. My sister is going too far. Luckily, Esme seems very excited about the proposal. She's read an article about The Peak in a magazine and confesses it'll be a great opportunity to have the small restaurant to ourselves. Even so, I'm going to kill River as soon as I get the chance. I swear she'll pay for this ambush.

Chapter 9

Esme

The cable car sways gently as we ascend toward The Peak, and I can't help but feel this is a perfectly prepared ambush by River.

The way she announced, along with Ivy that they'd take Ana Sofia and Theo all day, leaving Sloane and me “to watch the sunset from the restaurant without rushing, taking advantage of the day off,” sounded too innocent to be coincidental.

Still, here I am.

And if I have to be completely honest with myself, part of me appreciates this opportunity. All week I've been avoiding being alone with Sloane, aware that something is starting to change between us. Something that terrifies and attracts me in equal parts.

“Nervous?” she asks, leaning against the cable car window with that smile that used to melt me when we were twenty.

“Just curious,” I lie, though the sweat on my hands inside my gloves gives me away. “I've read that the views from up here are spectacular.”

“They are. You haven't seen anything like it, I assure you,” she nods. “Especially at sunset.”

Our eyes meet for an instant, and I feel that familiar tingling in my lower belly that I hadn't felt in years. The way she looks at me, as if memorizing every detail of my face, transports me directly to our college days.

“Sloane…” I whisper, but she shifts her gaze toward the mountains.

“We're almost there,” she announces, though I detect some tension in her voice.

The restaurant emerges before us like something out of a dream, hanging among the clouds. A structure of glass and steel that seems to float over the mountains, defying gravity. As the cable car approaches, I can see the enormous windows that promise unbeatable views of the snowy valley stretching far below.

“My God,” I sigh. “This is incredible.”

“River has cared for every small detail of this place,” Sloane comments as the cable car doors open. “It's like her baby, you know? What do you think?” she asks while guiding me toward the restaurant entrance.

“That your sister is a genius. This is… this is art.”

The interior of The Peak leaves me speechless. The panoramic windows create the illusion that we're suspendedin the air. The decoration is elegant and at the same time warm, with rustic touches that remind you of the mountain environment without losing the sophistication of a high-end restaurant.

“River has prepared our table in the private dining room. From there you get the best views,” Sloane indicates, nodding toward a door that remains closed.

Of course she has. Now I'm sure this is an ambush.

We sit facing the enormous windows, and for a few moments, I forget to breathe. The mountains extend to infinity, bathed in the golden afternoon light. The valley unfolds far below like a white canvas dotted with the snowy rooftops of the town.

“It's… it's like being in heaven,” I hiss, pressing my palm against the glass.

“Do you remember that time in college?” she asks suddenly. “When we went skiing in Vail and went up from Lionshead Village to the summit. You said something similar.”

The memory hits me like a slap. Vail. Our first trip together. We spent perfect days skiing, laughing, making love, discovering that what we felt for each other wasn't just friendship, but a passion we could barely contain.

“You told me you wanted to live in the mountains forever,” she continues, and her voice becomes almost a whisper. “That cities overwhelmed you.”

“And you told me you'd build me a cabin on the highest peak we could find,” I add, surprising myself by remembering every detail of that conversation. “That we'd live off snow and pure air.”

“We were very young,” she smiles, though I can notice the nostalgia in her eyes.

“Very young and very naive. Then life interrupted all those dreams.”

We stay quiet for a good while. Neither of us sure we want to advance in that direction, though part of me begs her to do so.