He laughs. “She has a lot of good traits too. But yeah, that was…not a good moment for me. In fact, I was tempted to just take her home and call it a night. But then she opened up about the crap she had going on at home. She wasn’t afraid to be vulnerable with me. And for a woman like Trish, that meant a lot. It woke up my protective side.” He shrugs. “Besides, she claimed to love everything else about me, so who could complain? That was one thing I just…couldn’t share with her. But, you know, we shared a lot of other stuff, so…”
“Yeah,” I say.
“Oh,” he says while tapping at his screen again. He tips his head and strides to the other side of our campsite. “They’re close now. In fact, they’re in the parking lot.”
I don’t miss the fact that he saystheythis time. He’s that sure that Trish and Greg are together.
No matter how many times I tell myself I’ve accepted the idea, it’s like diving into a cold plunge every time. Shocking enough to take my breath and painful enough that all I want is out.
I cannot believe that this is actually my life.Thisis where I am at forty-one years old. I’m living out a wayward version ofIf You Give a Mouse a Cookie.I’ll call it, if you suspect your spouse of cheating. In the tale, you leave a teenager at home with your sister while you spy on your husband with his mistress’s spouse from a campsite with a pup tent as a prop.
“I think the buffalo fries were a bad idea,” I say.
Beau shoots a leery look at me. “They coming back up on you?”
Heat burns its way up my throat. I gulp. “No, I won’t let that happen. I’m okay.” Suddenly, my body retches. I dry heave enough to barely taste what’s to come if I can’t get it under control. My eyes go wide with worry.
Beau’s do too.
“Maybe I need to sip on something.”
At once, he scrambles through the items in sacks around us, producing a bottle of Diet Coke I didn’t know we had; Beau must have grabbed it for me.
“Here,” he says, twisting off the cap and thrusting it into my hand. The sticky liquid sloshes over the rim, but I ignore the splatter and lift it to my lips. I take one gulp, two, and sense that things are heading in the proper direction. I decide to take one last swig for good measure and instantly regret it.
At once, my body is doing something I didn’t give it permission to do. My hand hurls the drink in who-knows-what-direction while my throat unleashes the fury of twenty dams in one massive gush. Luckily, my feet have a good mind of their own because they spin me away from Beau and toward the wooded area at my side.
Wiping my chin, I stare into the dimly lit mess and spot two tiny eyes shining back at me. I can barely make out the vomit-covered creature in the low light.
It blinks at me, stunned, miffed, and rightfully pissed.
“Oh my gosh,” I say. “A squirrel.”
Maybe I’m meant to write the book after all.If You Give the Squirrel Some Vomit. Hmm, doesn’t quite have the same ring.
CHAPTER14
Beau
It feels like there’s a dumpster fire in my gut as Trish steps out of the door labeledLady’s Quarters, her scarlet string bikini leaving little to the imagination. The outdoor lamps give me a clear view.
Any minute now, Greg will exit theGentleman’s Quarters, though he’s far from holding the title. Of course, if Kirsten and I are wrong, Trish’s friend will join her instead.
So, what’s it going to be?
My throat is closing. Or maybe it’s just too dry to swallow. Kirsten wasn’t kidding when she said the adrenaline would suck me dry.
“Do you see anything?” she asks as she paces behind me.
“I see Trish so far.”
“Alone?”
I try again to gulp but fail. “Alone.”
Kirsten groans. “It’s recording, right? You already hit record?”
Thanks to the adapter I ordered, my phone screen shows the exact, magnified view captured by the telescope.
