“And you know.” Thad is musing. “When that’s your life—when you’re paid to club, or go to shows, or to appear in public—you’re not meeting authentic people, you’re meeting fans. So try finding a girlfriend in that crowd who wants an actual future with you…”
“…not just their bills paid,” Davis finishes for him and they toast, clinking their glass and beer can together.
“Amen, my friend.”
Thad gazes across the fire. “How did y’all meet?”
Lionel and Suzanne are the first to answer. “Online. That Silver Singles app. Never thought I’d meet a man who likes Christmas as much as I do.”
Lionel chuckles. “She loves when I dress up as Santa.”
Oh jeez. I didn’t need that visual.
“We met online, too,” Paul responds. “He was the first date I’d been on after a five-month dry-spell.”
“What are the odds it would have been a love match?” Mia swoons.
“Are we the only ones who met in a bar?” Cookie giggles, nudging Erik. “Say it isn’t so!”
“Now, now, it was a bar at a fancy restaurant we met at and she was there with a group of girlfriends; I was there for a business meeting—let’s not paint a picture like we were in a pool hall.” Erik fake laughs, downplaying his wife’s story.
“True, but still—it was at the bar.” Cookie shrugs.
“Did he buy you a drink?” Suzanne asks.
“He bought all my girlfriends a drink and paid for our dinner.”
“La di dah!” Suzanne croons. “Ken and I met on a blind date our friends set us up on. His friend Brent and my cousin Neely played matchmaker. We’ll be celebrating our twentieth anniversary next month.”
All around the fire we make a show of being impressed. “What are you going to do to celebrate?”
“We’re taking our kids on a cruise,” Ken deadpans. “I’m sure it’ll be dramatic and miserable.”
“Ken!” Suzanne laughs. “Stop it.”
“What! You know I’m right. Alex and Paige will fight the whole time and Erin will cry that we didn’t bring her boyfriend.”
Suzanne’s expression is one of chagrin. “Yeah, he’s probably right.”
“I am right and I’m already exhausted.”
Everyone laughs.
I swallow the rest of the moonshine in my glass and stare through the side at the emptiness.
Sigh.
“How about you, Thad? You and your lady haven’t told us how you met.”
“Well.” Thad puts his giant paw on my friend’s leg. “Why don’t you tell the story, babe.”
Babe.
Ugh.
I want to be someone’s Babe.
“He was in line behind me at Starbucks getting coffee, and my app wasn’t loading and I hadn’t brought my wallet in, so he let them zap his app and paid for my drink.”
Awww, of course, I’ve heard this already, but I love watching her face when she tells it.
The crowd goes wild.
I do love the story of how they met—how my best friend always loves going inside the coffee shop instead of the drive-thru, despite how busy it might be or how inconvenient the location. Mia is the world’s last sweetheart who cherishes small moments—like clutching a warm coffee cup in her cold hands on a rainy morning before work.
She loves painting and listening to music and stopping to pet animals when she’s taking her afternoon walk.
I don’t blame Thad one bit for falling head over heels in love with her from the moment they met—she is adorable.
“And when he paid for my drink I couldn’t thank him enough—”
“—You would have thought I’d bought her a new car or something,” he laughs, kissing her again. “She’s so cute. I had to get her number. Never let an opportunity pass you by.”
They finish each other sentences.
Now all eyes turn to Davis and I—the only two single people amongst us. If they think they’re going to get a story out of either of us, they are sadly mistaken; we’re obviously not a couple, but it feels weird to over explain that we are two strangers who just met who happen to be sharing a cabin.
“What about the two of you?” Paul inevitably asks. He’s a nosy little bugger.
“Juliet and I are here for moral support.” Davis grins. “Got to keep an eye on these two, make sure they’re not getting into any trouble. Plus, we’re all here in the woods, right? Trying to relax. Besides, big guy here needs someone to bait his hook.”
He most certainly did not bait Thad’s hook, and I half expect him to mention his torn-up ear.
“So you’re not a couple?” Cookie wants clarification. “You sure do look cute together.”
Well duh. I’m cute and he’s handsome and we both have brown hair.
We match.
Davis is shaking his head. “No, no—nothing like that.”
I’m glad he’s not vehemently denying we’re together in a way that’s insulting—that would make me feel shitty even though we are not together, if that makes sense?
“Well, you have a few more days trapped in that little cottage—anything can happen,” I vaguely hear Cookie say.