Page 44 of The Killer Card

“I’m sorry,” Graham had asked, holding the container of peanut butter brownie out of the bride’s reach. “Are you complaining about me thinking about you?”

“I have a wedding dress to fit into in four days, Graham,” she huffed, still reaching for the ice cream.

He snorted. “Is that going to stop you from stuffing your face with marshmallows tonight?”

It most certainly has not. I think Nelly is on her third s’more already and it is entirely because with everyone she makes, she also consumes an entire glass of wine.

On the other hand, Clara is pacing herself, still a little hungover after last night. She’s bundled up in a quilt, munching on graham cracker and melted marshmallow in Rowan’s lap, her porcelain cheeks flushed and diamond curls thrown into a messy bun. As I watch, she holds out a finger to her husband, and he licks her clean of the dripping chocolate.

“I hate you both,” I mutter, taking a sip from my water.

Clara grins over at me. “Would you like a taste—”

“No,” Rowan snatches her hand before she can extend the marshmallowy digits my way, sucking them clean. Then he kisses her with a growl that makes her giggle. “Mine.”

“Jesus,” I roll my eyes. “Calm down, no one else wants her.”

“Rude!” Clara gasps. “I’m desirable!”

“Not with a gladiator wrapped around you like a vine.”

“Gladiator?” Rowan seems to think this metaphor over before nodding. “I’ll accept this comparison.”

Clara beams, taking his face in her hands- one of them only her last three fingers as she holds onto her s’more- kissing him square on the lips. “My big, handsome warrior.”

I make a gagging sound that earns me the finger from both of them as they commence sucking face for entirely too long. I mean, really? Don’t they need oxygen?

Across the fire Elias chuckles, holding out a burnt marshmallow for Nelly to cram between two crackers and two pieces of chocolate. Her sweet tooth has absolutely gotten worse since his enabling. But she works out twice as much, especially when he challenges her to Sunday morning beach races.

Nelly used to hate running when she was with Cristian because he always pushed her too hard with no real reward except it would make her feel better. It is pure fact that forcing Nelly to sweat is a one-way ticket to her being queen of the cunts. Elias, however, doesn’t push her for the sake of being healthier or because he wants her to look better.

Elias makes it a competition.

If Nelly can beat him in a footrace on the beach every Sunday, she gets a bookstore date. On three separate occasions this year I’ve called Nelly only to hear Rowan or Elias cursing when one of them accidentally hammered their own finger building new shelves for her. The woman owns more books now than she’s ever going to be able to read in a lifetime.

“Thank you, baby.” Nelly smiles, leaning over to kiss Elias as he settles back in his Adirondack chair. He just shakes his head adoringly, raising his beer to his lips.

God, why is everyone I know disgustingly in love?

Well, except for Cristian who looks just as sickened. He finishes his beer and stands. “I need another. Anyone else?” His dad raises his nearly empty bottle. Rowan raises a hand as well. Graham just shakes his head, he’s sunk low in his chair with his hood pulled up, quietly taking pulls off a joint he lit earlier this afternoon.

“Can you bring out the bottle on the counter?” Clara asks, taking another bite of her dessert.

“Which one?” Cristian raises a brow. “There are like four open in there—”

“I’ll go with you,” I stand. “I need a sweater anyway.” I take Clara’s empty glass on my way, and Nelly’s when she finishes the last sips.

My calves burn from the yoga routine I did this morning as we climb the steep hill to the cabin. The surrounding forest is amazingly quiet. I don’t think I’ve ever heard fewer sounds in my entire life. If I look up I can make out thousands of stars, actual constellations I only ever heard about in science class or in movies.

Then again, I never would have taken the time to appreciate a view like this before. Nothing about my life prior to this last year ever included taking a moment to enjoy stillness, stargaze, just sit and watch my friends laugh and love and be so joyful in the lives they’re building.

I’m so happy for them, but I can’t help feeling like I made all the wrong choices. Like I’m missing out on something that would finally give my life meaning where I never really found any before. I spent the last ten years on a one-way road to meeting my father’s expectations. A clear path to not being like my mother. To not disappoint him or worry him or make my brother feel forgotten. I just wanted to be right for them. Except along the way I allowed myself to dig a hole so deep I almost couldn’t climb out. A hole meant to protect me from… I don’t even know what. Being bored? Being discontent? Now it all just feels like I wasted so much time as I watch Orion’s Belt glitter against a pure black sky.

“Pretty isn’t it?” Cristian asks, pausing on the porch stairs to follow my gaze.

“Yeah… It is…”

Following him inside, I set my friend’s glasses on the counter, uncorking the chardonnay and filling both glasses the appropriate amount by sight alone. Cristian crosses to the fridge, grabbing and opening three more beers while I pull on my hoodie.