She continues, “You’ll get to feast on Mary’s iconic cooking every day. We have one main activity planned for each day, as well as a list of things to do around town if you feel so obliged. Crescent Bay is a charming little town that goes all in for Christmas, so we encourage you to explore on your own and support the local community.” She spins, retrieving a stack offlyers, each detailing the locally owned businesses and activities to do around town.
Once each person has a pamphlet, she presses her palms together, her eyes glistening like she’s just as excited for all this as we are. “Everyone ready to count down to Christmas?” she asks. The crowd hums bashfully. She takes a deep breath, yelling this time. “I said, is everyone ready for the Crescent Bay Christmas Countdown?”
A few of the folks respond with cheers and claps, the rest of us just shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other, ducking our eyes with embarrassment as curious onlookers set their attention on our small group.
She winks. “We’ll work on it.”
One by one, we crawl into the shuttle behind her, settling into our seats.
I didn’t notice it at first, but as we make our way to our home for the next week and a half, I realize how everyone else is speaking in hushed voices among themselves. Peeling my gaze away from the frosty window, my eyes bounce from him and her, him and her…him and him, then —oh my God.
Everyone else here is coupled up.
My fingers fly across my phone’s keyboard as I type the burning question to Rae, ignoring her previous message asking if I landed safely.
Me: Please tell me you did not sign me up for a couple’s trip
Grey bubbles appear, disappear, then reappear in rapid succession. My leg begins to vibrate on the leather seat.
Rae: It might have said something about being great for couples on the website.
That’s probably as close to a confession as I’ll get from her. I swipe over to the Emerson Bed and Breakfast website and click on the pop-up that leads to a web page advertising the retreat. Thecouple’sretreat.
I sink deeper into my seat, wishing it would swallow me up and spit me back into my lonely apartment. With a shaky hand, I dial her number, pressing the phone too tightly against my ear and whispering when she finally picks up.
“Why would you do this to me?” I inquire.
“Before you freak out…”
“No, no, tell me — why would you, knowing how sore of a time this is for me, send me somewhere I’d be surrounded by people disgustingly in love, spending the holiday together?” I press.
“When you put it like that,” she mumbles.
“Raegan Smith, this is not funny.”
“Okay! Okay,” she says, her voice becoming serious. “It says it’s a couple’s retreat, but…it also says singles are welcome. I thought, maybe, it’d be a good chance for you to meet someone new. Have some holiday fun.”
“You’re such a bitch,” I say, huddling closer to the window when the bright-eyed woman flinches next to me.
“I need you to get laid orsomething,” she explains, exasperated.
“I hate you so much right now,” I moan, leaning my forehead against the cold glass. If I look past my reflection, I can see the rolling hills, frosted evergreens, and clear blue sky as we drive past. This town is really a little winter wonderland. If only I didn’t have to spend the next twelve days surrounded by constant reminders of how alone I am.
I sigh, sitting back and staring forward. Jiraiya reaches over, taking Gayle’s delicate fingers tenderly in his palm, rubbing circles on the back of her hand. I close my eyes, swallow against the bitterness forming on the back of my tongue.
“I gotta go,” I offer.
“Krys,”she responds, hearing the shortness in my tone.
Before she can say anything else, I end the call.
Once we arrive at the B&B, we tour the premises and get assigned rooms. Apparently, rooms that usually house two double beds have been converted into premium suites for the time being. Despite being the only single person here, when one of the employees hands me a handmade ceramic mug, filled with steaming hot chocolate and topped with a toasted marshmallow, the echoes of the excitement I felt before rumble through me.
The entire place is flanked by decor, framed with twinkling garland, and gilded in sparkling ornaments that resemble icicles and snowflakes. My eyes roam through the room as I gratefully sip on my beverage.
“We went with a White Christmastheme,” Gayle’s voice startles me. I didn’t even feel her presence.
“It’s beautiful, you guys did a great job.”
