Keeping an eye on my hot, nakedhusband, I tiptoe over to the bathroom door.As I slip past the door frame, my toe hits the bottom.
Ow!Hopping on one foot, I shut the door quietly, holding back the string of curses flooding my head.I don’t want to wake him.The moment the door clicks shut, I flip the light on and hobble past the sink to the secluded toilet.This bathroom is large, and the height of luxury with its eggshell marble tile, state of the art ambient lighting, and bronze accent pieces.
I analyze the situation as I take care of my personal business.I’m most likely married to a man whose name I can’t remember, and who has seen me naked.I have no memories of last night, no clothes, and no idea what to do about any of it.
Yawning as I flush, I walk out of the small toilet cubby and my nose twitches.What the hell?
Why does it smell like a barnyard in here?I cover my mouth and nose with one hand and cringe.
Where is that smell coming from?
I head to the sink and wash my hands.My quick, absentminded glance in the mirror becomes a shocked stare.I look incredible.My full-bodied auburn hair is in a wild tangle around my head.Rather than lines and dark circles around my eyes, my skin is smooth and perfect.I don’t even have racoon eyes from mascara smudges.My lips are full and a bit puffy, like I spent the whole night kissing the sexy, unknown stranger in my bed.I scowl when I catch a glimpse of black markings on my neck.I twist around and glance back over my shoulder.
Holy shit!
There’s a tattoo on my neck.A tattoo.I swore I would never, ever, ever get a tattoo.My dad has a dozen of them and I never cared for the way the dark lines fade and blur over time.So, of course, now I have one.On the left side of my neck, it descends from right behind my ear down to the top of my collarbone.The inky markings look like gibberish.I touch it, try to scrub it off, but my skin stings and the marks don’t smudge.I’m a baby when it comes to needles.Why can’t I remember getting a damn tattoo?
In the corner of the mirror, I catch movement in the bathtub.
I turn slowly, and almost faint.Everything inside me screams that I should run.That I should ignore the throbbing ache in my big toe and run for my life.
In the bathtub, lying on its back, with empty champagne bottles on its belly, is a massive black bear.A pink tutu stretches around its body like it just came home from a ballet recital.The bear must be eight feet tall and he’s—she’s?—been packing on the fat.Its claws are longer than my fingers.
As if on cue, the bear opens its eyes and makes a noise that sounds like a warm-up,I’m-going-to-eat-you-now, roar to me.I scream and its giant head swivels in my direction as he issues a bloated, booming burp.He blinks slowly, as if trying to figure out whether to eat me, then makes another weird bear noise, blasting me with putrid bear breath.
Thank god I already peed, or I’d be standing in a puddle.
Scrambling backward, I scurry out of the bathroom and slam the door shut with a resounding thud.I probably just woke up the hot stranger.Whatever.I rush toward the kitchen, and my coffee.
And hopefully my sanity.
This can’t be happening.That bear is drunk.Drunk!Onmywedding champagne!I recognize the labels on the bottle.I had a few bottles stashed here for my honeymoon with Nicholas.I had romantic visions of sitting naked in the hot tub, sipping champagne with my new husband.Instead, all the celebratory champagne has been drunk by a bear?What is happening to my life?
I dash down the stairs, beyond caring that I don’t have a stitch of clothing on.Surely there is a blanket in the living room on the couch, or something I can wrap myself in.Or maybe this is all a bad dream and I’ll finally wake up from the funhouse nightmare.
My feet skid to a halt on the bottom step.
Son of a…naw.No way.I am not seeing this.I rub my tired eyes.But the scene before me doesn’t dissolve.
Did I exit the church yesterday and enter a portal to a hell dimension?
Standing in the middle of the posh living room, chowing away at the two-tiered wedding cake, is a thirty-point buck.At my entrance, he swivels his head in my direction, white frosting covering his mouth and nose.My blue lace bra—my something blue for the wedding—hangs from his antlers, one end sliding over the floor as he lowers his head once more to chow on the cake.Mouth full, the buck eyes me like I’m the one out of place, snorts, and takes another bite.Clearly, I’ve been dismissed.
What is going on in this cabin?
Unsure what else to do, I walk to the cabin’s back door so I can open it and let the poor deer back outside.The door is half off its hinges, wedged at a bizarre angle.Putting my shoulder into it, I shove it open as far as I can and glare at the buck.
He licks frosting off the floor and ignores me.
Well, shit.At least he can get out.
I can’t shove him outside.I’d probably get trampled or gored by his spikey headdress.Maybe, once I get some coffee and locate some clothes, I can figure out the rest.Like, how the hell I’m going to get the buck out of the cabin.I have no clue about the tutu wearing bear.Maybe I can lure it out with food.Bears like food, don’t they?What if I have to call a park ranger?Will they tranquilize him and take him somewhere safe, or kill him?I don’t want them to kill him just because he’s inside the cabin.They might think he’s gotten too friendly with people.Based on the tutu and champagne bottles, they would probably be right.Guess I’ll have to figure out a way to get him out of here myself.
Back pressed to the cool wall, I slide sideways, past the massive buck, toward the kitchen.Its antlers are far too sharp and pointy for my liking.I round the corner into the kitchen.With a sigh of relief, I notice my purse hanging on the back of one of the high counter’s tall bar chairs.At least I didn’t lose my wallet.
I step into the kitchen and freeze.
The fridge and all the cabinets are open.Food and torn wrappers litter every surface.There’s a stack of broken plates on the floor.Multiple pairs of dark, beady eyes glance my way and freeze.Sitting on top of the counter at polite intervals, three raccoons surround the charcuterie tray my besties stashed in the refrigerator yesterday.As if that’s not weird enough, each of them is wearing a miniature, pointed, polka-dot and glitter covered party hat.
