Page 74 of Never Your Valentine

Annabelle comes out of the trailer. It’s warm in there with the appliances going, and she’s removed her hat and coat. Her skin is glowing and her hair shines under the twinkle lights overhead.

“Dude!” Brick exclaims when he sees her. “You didn’t tell us you got a stripper!”

Annabelle freezes, her mouth half open. She closes it and narrows her eyes at Brick. “Brilliant. Thank you for that. I was wondering how much to poison your food. Now I know.”

Silence. The fire crackles. The generator hums. Nobody moves.

“I was kidding,” Brick blurts out. “It was a joke.”

“Did you decide that before or after her reaction?” I ask.

Tim steps forward and addresses Annabelle. “Don’t mind him. It’s just his personality disorder acting up.”

Lincoln and Logan mumble, “typical,” and “there he goes again,” and “he’s always like this.”

“It was a joke,” Brick insists. “Tim’s been under a lot of stress getting ready for a baby. I was trying to lighten the mood.”

“What’s a U.P. stripper anyway?” Felix asks. “She takes off four layers and she’s still dressed!”

I don’t think that joke’s funny either, but Felix has diffused the tension and is getting the party back on track. He gives everyone mugs of mulled wine and passes out individual charcuterie boards while he gets the guys hyped for the evening’s activities. Dinner, dessert, and then we’ll snowshoe about half a mile from here to the glow and arrow course. After that, we’ll come back for s’mores and hot buttered rum before taking our snowmobiles back to town. I have no idea how Felix expects amateurs to drive after drinking so much, but it’s his tour, not mine, and therefore not my problem.

The men eat appetizers and give each other a hard time. Felix and Annabelle run back and forth to the trailer, checking on the food. I tend the fire and keep a close eye on Brick. I decide I’m going to be his best friend.

Dinner is served on pop-up tables, one per guest. I stab the legs into the snow next to each chair. I’m not at all surprised that Brick waits for Annabelle to sit down and then chooses a chair right next to hers. I sit on his other side.

“This is delicious, Annabelle,” Brick says. “Did you cook this?”

“It’s catered.” Her fork squeaks on her plate. “And not poisoned.”

“Never thought it was.” Brick leans toward her. “You don’t seem capable of that.”

I tap his shoulder. “Do you like venison?”

He reluctantly turns my way. “I didn’t think I did, but yeah.”

“I can get you the recipe if you want it. Do you like to cook?”

“I don’t… I mean…” He tries to get back into Annabelle’s orbit, but I don’t let him.

“Do you watch cooking on YouTube?” I take over his chair’s armrest. “Who’s your favorite online chef?”

“Um…”

“Fishing is big up here too. Do you know how many ways I can cook walleye?”

“I don’t want to talk about cooking, man.”

“Huh. I thought you did.”

Annabelle has a sparkle in her eye as she moves her chair back several inches. I move mine back too and we share a smile behind Brick’s back. He’s turned to Tim and is ruthlessly discussing college football.

I savor every bite of my food, then swirl my roll around my empty plate, gathering up the rest of that delicious sauce. This is the kind of meal you want to linger after, especially in front of a warm fire, but these guys aren’t the lingering type. Before I know it, we’re taking the plates and forks back to the trailer.

Annabelle serves the torte while Felix makes Irish coffee. Everyone has removed their gloves by now. All the men are wearing wedding rings. They keep telling each other what a great idea this trip was. Logan pats Tim on the back. “You needed this, bro.” It’s still not clear why Tim is the stressed one if his wife is the one carrying the baby, but that’s between them.

After dinner, I volunteer to secure everything in the trailer for the drive back to town. I put away the leftover food, put all the dishes into plastic totes for washing later, and tie everything down with bungee cords. It takes longer than I want it to, and by the time I’m done, everyone has left for the target range, including Annabelle.

She’s grown, I tell myself. She can take care of herself. But dammit, why should she have to? I strap on the last pair of snowshoes and follow them as fast as my legs will carry me, falling in behind them just in time to hear Brick interrogating Annabelle.