Page 85

I grin at them before following him into the small cabin. There’s a tiny kitchen, a table, and a small loveseat in the main room. A bundle of firewood sits beside the back door leading to a picnic table and fire ring.

“This place is so cute,” I say, glancing at the door to the bathroom before halting.

My gaze zeros in on Shane’s wide shoulders taking up the entire door frame at the end of the very short hall.

Frame.

As in singular.

There are supposed to be two doors. I rented a two-bedroom cabin.

Though we shared some sizzling kisses last week and this morning before getting dressed for the BBQ, we still haven’t had the adult conversation about where our relationship is headed.

Selfishly, I haven’t wanted to.

I know we’re technically married, but I don’t think either of us expected things to turn out like they have. Saying sticky, vulnerable feelings out loud might burst the very magical bubble I find myself living in.

And I really, really like this bubble.

Since Shane isn’t exactly known for his conversational skills, I figure he won’t be the one to bring up the talk. That means I can stay in this blissful state for as long as I need to.

“There’s only one room.”

Shane grunts.

I push past him to find that, yep, there’s only one bed. And by the looks of it, it’s a full—maybe a queen. There was a little flare of hope that I’d find bunk beds or something. Though, Shane contorting his large body onto a bottom or top bunk would be ridiculous.

A maniacal laugh bursts from me. “There’s only one bed.”

Shane makes a growly noise in response to me stating very obvious things. Next, I should say, ‘The sky is dark’ or ‘It’s the month of May.’

He slips past me, tossing his duffel bag onto the loveseat.

“Shane, come on.” I pivot back into the main room, setting my hands on my hips. “You can’t sleep there. You won’t fit.”

“It’s fine,” he grumbles.

“No.” I pull on his arm when he unzips his bag. “You have a game tomorrow, and you’ll be exhausted.”

Shane stops, rising to his full height. “If you don’t sleep well, your blood sugar will go high. Then you’ll feel terrible and spend the whole day trying to get back in balance.”

“Highs happen,” I tell him, defiantly lifting my chin.

“Being tired during a game happens,” he says, not backing down.

My head tilts to the side. “Is this our first fight?”

“No,” Shane growls, pulling a sweatshirt out of his bag and holding it out to me. “Our first fight was when you resisted going to the hospital.”

My greedy fingers snatch up the soft fabric and hug it to my chest. “How did you know I wanted this?”

His gaze slowly traces the curves of my face, almost reverently. “I know you, Willow.”

I’m trapped between the impulse to kiss him and scream at him for being so stubborn. I decide on option three: getting changed so we can argue about this after marshmallows. Maybe sweet, gooey deliciousness will help Shane see reason.

We set up the two camp chairs I bought around the fire pit.

“These will be good for our beach day too,” I tell him, absolutely poking the bear.