Margaret sent the group a text that there would be games and dinner at her house tonight. She regularly hosts game nights that go down in history. There’s folklore surrounding the types of games Margaret organizes.
I’m pretty sure there have been emergency room trips as well.
“Are we supposed to bring anything tonight?” I ask. Because I always zone out on long group texts. And usually somewhere in the middle of the thirty texts, there’s some important information.
“A side dish, but I know you’ve been working long hours, so I doubled up on the pasta salad I’m bringing.”
“Oh, thank you, Willa. I’ll be there. I want to see you.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy with work and spending time with Kingston…I’m really sorry. I haven’t been a good sister, especially when you moved here to be close to me and then I got mad that you were living with Miles.” She sighs. “I have a lot of making up to do. I don’t think a pasta salad is going to cover it.”
I laugh as I pull into the driveway. “All right. Let’s plan to get dinner or lunch one of these days.”
“Okay, it’s a deal. I’ll see you tonight. Bring Miles—I haven’t seen him much either.”
“You work with him!” I laugh.
“Well, technically, I work more with Kingston. Miles does more of the stuff with Thea. He’s really good at the financial side of it.”
And he seems kind of miserable too. But I don’t say that part out loud.
Anytime I ask Miles about work, I get a very monotone response.
The garage door rolls open slowly, and I see Miles standing there in athletic shorts and a T-shirt, holding a lantern.
“Umm, I’ve got to go. Miles is standing in the garage, holding a lantern for some reason…” I say absentmindedly.
Willa laughs. “You know, the more I think about it, the more I realize you two are perfect as roommates.”
“Yes, but the problem is, I can’t steal his clothes.”
“Another reason I’m glad we’re not living together. You have the unfair advantage in that department!” Willa exclaims.
It’s true. I’m several inches shorter than Willa, which means I can wear a lot of her clothes, but she can’t wear very many of mine. I just roll things up or tuck a shirt in. But she can’t exactly grow my “short” jeans longer.
“See you soon. Love you.”
“Love you too,” I say just before the call disconnects.
I climb out of the car and stare at Miles. He has a headlamp on his head as well.
“Should I be concerned?”
“Want to go camping with me? Next weekend?” he says.
I watch as he swings the lantern back and forth, then I look back at his excited face. I press my lips together to fight a smile. “All right, Paul Revere. Are you going backyard camping?”
“Very funny. It’s the annual Granger family campout. The one Grandma was talking about. It’s grown to a ridiculous number of people. And it’s a blast. You should definitely come.” His grin falls from his face. “But you don’t have to. Seriously. I didn’t even think about this part of being married.”
“I’d love to go camping with you. Besides, what could go wrong? We get eaten by a bear?” I laugh.
His smile seems a little forced.
“Wait. There are no bears where we’re going, right?”
His smile is definitely fake. His eyes are darting around, as if he’s looking for someone else to answer the question.
I take a slow step toward him, and he holds the lantern out between us, as if to ward me off. “Miles, please tell me there are no bears in those mountains.”
