I wasn’t snooping.
Let’s just start there.
Snooping implies intent. A deliberate hunt for secrets. This? This was an accident. Asituation,really. And I was just the unfortunate witness.
It started when I stopped by the lodge’s front desk, hoping to ask if there was a decent hiking trail thatdidn’tinclude toddlers feeding ducks or old men making commentary about my bachelor aura. The desk was empty, no cheerful innkeeper, no Sienna, no Mom-who-cooked-too-much. Just the quiet hum of the ceiling fan and the faint scent of cinnamon and pine.
And a planner.
Pink. Spiral-bound. Absolutely covered in colorful sticky notes like a Lisa Frank unicorn had exploded on top of it.
I probably should’ve ignored it, absolutely should’ve kept walking, and pretended I hadn’t seen it.
But my name’s notsaintly self-control,and it was open. Barely. Like a little trapdoor begging to be glanced at.
I glanced.
And then froze.
In slightly crooked, aggressively enthusiastic handwriting done with a glitter pen, I read:
Phase One: Lower Expectations.
Phase Two: Location, location, location.
Phase Three: Lure the man.
Phase Four: The Snacks.
I stared at the words for a full ten seconds, brain stuck in a hard reboot.
Lure the man?
The snacks?
Was this… a trap?
WasIthe man?
My brain offered the worst possible image: me, being led into a whimsical, fairy-light-covered snare with graham crackers like bait. A marshmallow crown placed gently on my sulking head. My mug was filled with cider and emotional vulnerability.
I snorted out loud.
Becausewhat even was this?
The handwriting looked familiar. It had personality, with looped letters, little hearts dotting the i’s. And the page? Covered in sticky notes, tiny doodles, and one very confident bullet point about strategic chocolate placement.
There was no doubt in my mind: this was Fifi’s.
And now I was reading her private...battle plan.
A plan that very possibly includedmeas the target.
“Lure the man,” I muttered, still staring at the words. “With snacks, apparently. Honestly, not the worst strategy.”
I should’ve felt weird about it.
Ididfeel weird about it.
