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And if he does, I hope to God it’s not with Kavanagh.
I send a quick text to Ana.
No idea what Elliot has in mind.
This is not how I planned to spend the day.
Enjoy your shopping experience with Caroline Acton.
Missing you. x
ANA
Missing you, too. Love you. Ax
Elliot leaves I-5 for the 532.
“Camano Island?” I ask.
He winks at me, which is annoying. I check my watch, then my phone.
“Dude! What gives? She’ll be fine without you, for fuck’s sake. Show some dignity. I packed some snacks. I know how disagreeable you get without food.”
“Snacks? Where?”
He opens the car caddy, revealing subs, chips, and Coke. Ah, all of life’s pleasures…if you’re Elliot.
“Nutritious,” I mutter dryly.
“It’s all good stuff, bro. Quit complaining. This is your bachelor party.”
I laugh, because chips and Coke is not my idea of a good time. Subs, on the other hand…I smirk at my little private joke and reach for a can of Coke.
About five miles into Camano Island, Elliot turns right. We drive through a farm gate into an open pasture, along a track, and up to a barn, where he pulls into a parking lot.
“We’re here.”
“Where is here?”
“Friend’s place. It’s not open to the public yet. But it will be soon. We’re guinea pigs.”
“What?”
“Well, I figured marriage is pretty much a high-wire activity. I thought you should get some practice.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We’re going zip-lining.” He grins and clambers out of the car.
This! This is my bachelor party? It is not what I was expecting. But hey, zip-lining could be fun.
Elliot greets our hosts, and we’re directed into the barn, where a series of hooks hold the safety equipment: hard hats, harnesses, straps, and carabiners. It all looks reassuringly familiar.
“Hey, hotshot, these harnesses are damned freaky. We could get up to some kinky shit in these,” Elliot blurts as he slips his on. And for once I’m at a complete loss as to what to say.
Does he know?
Are the tips of my ears red?
Shit! Has Ana talked to Kate?
Elliot looks his usual guileless self, so I assume not, because if he knew, he’d have razzed the shit of me. “You’re an idiot. This is like a chute,” I reply. Distraction is the best policy. “Got a new sailplane last week. You should come out to Ephrata for a day and we can take her up.”
“For two?”
“Yep.”
“That would be super cool.”
We’re on the first platform surrounded by pine trees. “To infinity and beyond!” Elliot shouts and leaps off, with all the fearlessness that I associate with his devil-may-fucking-care attitude. He whoops like a gorilla in heat as he whizzes down the line, his joy contagious. He lands surprisingly gracefully on the next platform, about one hundred feet away.
Danielle, one of our guides, radios ahead to say I’m set and clips my lifeline to the zip-line trolley. “Ready, Christian?” she asks with an overeager smile.
“As I’ll ever be.”
“Off you go.”
Taking a deep breath, I grab the carabiner beneath the trolley with one hand, my lifeline with the other, and I jump. I fly through the fresh, lush forest, the pulley whistling above me and the summer breeze on my face. I’m on a roller coaster without a car, sailing between the Douglas firs beneath a brilliant blue sky, and it’s thrilling and liberating in equal measure. I land safely on the platform beside Elliot and the other guide.
“Whaddya think?” Elliot claps me on the back.
I grin. “This is pretty fucking excellent.”
Danielle is last to land on the platform. “That was our first. They get higher and faster.”
“Bring it!” I exclaim.
Two hours later, still buzzing from our high-wire activity, we’re back on the road, Elliot behind the wheel. “Bro, as experiences go, that was right up there,” I acknowledge.
“Better than sex?” Elliot cackles. “You’ve only just discovered it—so probably not.”
“I’m a little more discerning in my tastes than you are, dude.”
“I just like to spread the love around. The Big E wants what the Big E wants.”
I shake my head with a snort of derision. I do not want to think about the Big E. “Can we get some real food now?”
Elliot grins. “Nope, sorry, bro. You don’t want a full stomach for what we have planned next. Eat the sub.”
“Next? Elliot, the zip line was great. There’s more?”
“Oh, yes. Suck it up, buttercup.”
Gingerly, I pick up one of the subs.
“Those are made by my own fair hand.”
“Don’t put me off.”
“The finest bologna, tomato, and provolone cheese this side of the Rockies have gone into those sandwiches.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“You need to broaden your culinary horizons.”
“With bologna?”
“Whatever it takes. Unwrap that for me.”
I peel off the parchment paper and hand him the dubious-looking creation. He shoves it in his mouth and starts to chow down. It’s not a sight for the fainthearted, and I realize I have no choice, it’s bologna or starve.
