Happy anniversary to the man of my dreams

We clinked glasses, the real champagne flutes Ryan had packed in the cooler, and sipped the Champagne Collet I’d paid $80 for. The fall foliage was just starting to make its debut, so the mountains looked dip-dyed, the steep slopes above us donned a brilliant ombre of yellow and green against a sky so blue it made my molars ache. The Castle Creek Valley dazzled in the early afternoon sunlight with beauty as undeniable and in-your-face as a supermodel in a slit dress and heels. This is why billionaires live here. It is the very definition of exquisite.

“Can you tell the difference between this and a $15 bottle of Prosecco?” I asked Ryan, Pine Creek bubbling pleasantly at our feet where we’d set up our picnic at the end of the road. We sat in camping chairs, the super lightweight ones we br