“You think we’re faking our issues?” Wilder says, sitting up now and completely ignoring me.
“I think you’re not being genuine.”
“Is that why you brought us over here?” he asks. “To confront us?”
“No,” Brad says from the side, his wife looking like she wants nothing to do with this. “We were playing a game, like we always do.”
“Brad, don’t lie,” Chad says. “Just this afternoon, you were complaining about them.”
They were talking about us? All of them? What exactly were they saying? Were they judging me?
“I was not,” Brad says. “I was…I was complaining about the cabin they got.” Brad’s poor wife. “Everyone was.”
Confused, I ask, “Do you not have good cabins?”
“They’re not your cabin,” Chad says.
Lucky them. What I wouldn’t give to be in a normal cabin where I don’t wake up to the sight of a scrotum staring me down.
“Is this really what this is about?” Wilder asks. “You’re jealous we got a sex cabin?”
As if they would answer that…
The guys all look around and then lightly nod their heads.
Okay, maybe I was wrong.
Either way, I wish this conversation would end. Is that marshmallow burnt yet?
“Let me get this straight. You’re jealous we have a sex cabin, so that means you can gang up on us and make us feel bad about it? Call us out on supposed lies that are simply not true? Jesus.” Wilder lifts me up off his lap, tosses his stick into the firepit, and then says, “You’re all pathetic.”
Oh boy.
The anger has peaked.
“That cabin is reserved for the most problematic couple,” Chad says. “We know what you’re doing. Sanders’s philosophy is all about having an intimate and thriving sex life while combatting communication roadblocks. It all seems too convenient. You two are not communicating and don’t eventouch each other, therefore, he’s going to make sure he works on you the hardest. They’re going to get the tent.”
What the hell is the tent?
“You don’t know that,” Brad says.
“Oh, I do. They’re going to get it. Just watch.” He shakes his head. “Mark my words, this is all a fucking farce.”
Umm, can we get clarification on the tent?
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Wilder says. “But it seems like you’re projecting. If you came here for some sex-a-thon with your partner, where cabins and tents matter to you, then maybe you’re in the wrong place.” He loops his arm around my waist. “We’ve been through a lot, the both of us, and we’re trying to figure things out. If you can’t handle that, if you can’t believe it, then that’s your own fucking problem, not ours.”
The looks on everyone’s faces. Shock.
Consider me shocked as well, because I don’t think I’ve ever had someone stick up for me like this before.How does he seem to suddenly comprehend my triggers now?And why do I feel so exposed and on edge?
Before anyone can make a comeback, he directs us away from the firepit, me still holding the plate with the s’mores, and we head to our cabin.
The walk back is in complete silence as we’re shrouded in the dark, only the pathway lights leading the way while crickets chirp in the distance and fireflies dance among the trees.
I’m not sure what to say honestly, because this whole situation was weird. Wilder upset—angry actually—that’s unsettling. He’s always happy-go-lucky, ready for anything, but I can feel the irritation coming off him. Did Chad strike a nerve?
And then there are my coworkers, talking about us behind our backs, jealous over a cabin. It’s all, like I said, weird. And that weirdness makes me feel incredibly insecure.
