I think he knows the freaking answer to that question.
Through clenched teeth, I say, “By all means, you lead the way.”
He pats my leg and then says, “It was my twenty-seventh birthday trip.”
God, I forgot he was two years younger. Shouldn’t really be that big of a difference, but I’m starting to see the contrast between the two of us.
“She surprised me with a trip because she knows how much I like lighthouses.”
Oddly, I could see him liking lighthouses in real life.
“Very thoughtful,” Sanders says.
Finally, some praise. I nod in agreement. See, I’m not the bad guy in this situation.
I take my husband to see the lighthouses he loves so dearly.
“Everything started off fine. We were holding hands. We were joking around. There were smiles for days.” Wow, quite the cheesy picture he paints. “She booked us a room in a beautiful yet quaint bed-and-breakfast near the coast. One of those places you see in a Hallmark film. White picket fence. Flowers decorating window boxes. The older couple at registration, willing and ready to welcome you in.”
“I know just the kind of place you speak of,” Sanders says, leaning into the storytelling.
“We were set up for a successful weekend of lovemaking and lighthouse watching until we tried to check in. To our dismay, they didn’t have us on the reservation list. Naturally, Scottie showed them the confirmation number, only for the couple to point out that she booked the stay for a different date.” He pauses for dramatic effect and then says on a whisper, “She booked it under her ex’s birthday.”
Oh no. He. Did. Not.
Nope.
Not happening.
“Ex-friend,” I say, jumping in quickly. “Just want to clarify, ex-friend. We used to, uh, we used to go to Montauk, and I think I just had her on the brain.” I glance at Wilder to try to telepathically blow his head up into a million little pieces.
Wilder pats my leg and then turns to Sanders. “They had a really strong bond,” Wilder continues. “Met when they were in elementary school, but then Petunia, that’s her name, started dating a man Pips didn’t approve of, and well, their relationship soured from there.”
“He was a rampant cheater,” I say, wanting to get in on a little of this action so Wilder doesn’t think he can run away with the story.
“Rampant cheater at games.” Wilder nods. “Scottie couldn’t take it. Pictionary, charades, even Wordle, you name it, he cheated.”
Oh, so now he can remember games. Where were these a few moments ago when he was talking about our bedroom antics?
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Only appreciate people with integrity.”
How ironic. I say that as I’m pretending to be married to the man next to me who I only met about fifteen minutes ago.
“A great value to have,” Sanders says.
“One of the reasons I love her,” Wilder says as he reaches over and picks up a piece of my hair, twirling it around his finger. He stares at me for a couple of seconds, and I want to reach out and pop both of his eyes with my fingers, because those eyes, they’re too much. “Anyway, they didn’t have a room for us at the bed-and-breakfast, they were all booked, but they did have a cabin out back that didn’t have electricity or any running water. It was just a cabin. Since it was late and we spent all day under the shadow of the Montauk Point Lighthouse, we were tired and just needed a place to sleep. So we took it. But it was a mistake,” Wilder says. “Because the moment we got in there, we noticed that there wasn’t a bed, just sleeping bags. Right, Pips?”
“Uh, yeah. And you hate sleeping on the ground.”
“Only because I sleep naked, and I’m pretty wild when I sleep. Can’t seem to stay still.”
“Same,” Sanders says. “Sometimes I end up on the bottom of the bed, teetering, only for Ellison to save me from plummeting to the ground.”
“Same with Pips. She’s good at saving me, but not this time.”
Oh Jesus, what now?
“Weren’t you on the ground though?” Sanders asks, seemingly invested but also confused.
