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We’re all back at the hotel, out on the back patio, eating leftover penis gummies in a space that’s every bit as great as I was hoping it would be from the website photos. It’s cold out, but everyone is bundled up, and between the enormous bonfire, the heaters, and the basket of blankets, everyone seems cozy and happy.
Most importantly, Collette and Jon seem happy. The soon-to-be bride and groom are curled up together on a huge wooden porch swing and are in full-out makeout mode now.
Actually, for that matter, everyone is pretty close to makeout mode. I’ve been so busy making sure things are going well that I haven’t really had time to dwell on being the only single woman here. But all of a sudden I’m very, very aware that I’ll be the only one going to bed alone tonight.
Stephanie picks up a wine bottle and tops off her glass, holding it up to me in question. I shake my head.
“So, how’d you and Ethan meet?” I ask. It’s not just polite small talk; I really want to know. They’re adorable together, but in an odd-couple kind of way.
She grins, reading my mind. “You mean, how did a girl in leather pants and love of black eye shadow snag Captain America?”
I smile. “Actually, I was wondering more how he snagged you.”
She waggles another gummy penis at me. “I like you. I do. And as far as Ethan and I, we collided back in college, and yes, collided is the appropriate word choice. We took a film class together, got stuck as partners. Then, in a weird twist, I ended up pretending to be his girlfriend, and then in an even weirder twist, I became his actual girlfriend, and gasp, liked it. And loved him.”
“Awww.”
The corner of her mouth lifts in a smile as Stephanie chews her gummy. She shifts to study her husband, then tilts her head. “They look a bit alike, don’t they? Ethan and Thomas?”
They look nothing alike. Ethan’s hair is blond, Thomas’s brown. Ethan is brawnier, Thomas more lean. Their personalities are different as well. Ethan’s a charmer, all big smiles and big laughs, Thomas is . . . not that.
I think I know what she means though. They don’t look alike, but they have the same . . . vibe? They’re both clean cut and classically handsome. The kind of man you can imagine easily sitting at the head of a boardroom, or coaching Little League, or sipping Scotch while wearing freaking tweed.
“He watches you, you know,” Stephanie says, leaning towards me slightly and lowering her voice.
I look back. “What? Who?”
“Thomas. I was sitting across from him at dinner. He looked at you whenever he thought you wouldn’t notice.”
My stomach flips, even as my brain rejects the idea.
I snort in skepticism.
“In fact,” Stephanie adds, in a playfully taunting tone. “The only times he wasn’t looking at you were when you were looking at him.”
I suck in my cheeks. “I don’t even like the guy.”
I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince, Stephanie or myself, and her smile is sympathetic. “For the record, I didn’t like Ethan either.”
“Out of curiosity.” She points down at the bowl of penis gummies. “Which one do you think is most like Thomas?”
“I haven’t thought about it,” I lie. “Though knowing him, he wouldn’t tolerate anything less than absolute perfection.” I pull out a perfect purple specimen.
“You’ll have to let me know,” she says with a wink, before waving goodbye and making her way over to her husband.
I eat the gummy—the closest I’ll ever come to Thomas’s member—and watch as Stephanie winds her arms around her much taller husband’s waist, gazing up at him with a look that plainly says, “Take me upstairs.”
Ethan is no dummy. He says something to Thomas and a few minutes later, they’re headed inside. I’m jealous. I try to tell myself it’s just because of the sex part, not the romantic part, but it doesn’t feel as true as it usually does. I blame the sheer cuteness of this B&B and all the couple vibes that are heating up the space more than the bonfire.
Even with the hormones and fire, it’s still cold, and unlike everyone else, I don’t have someone to cuddle with. I pull one of the rolled-up fleece blankets from the provided basket and make my way over to one of the swinging benches that’s flanked by two heaters, and a bit closer to the fire than my current spot.
I draw my knees up to my chest and perch my phone atop them. I begin scrolling through the photos I took of Burger Barn, trying to decide which ones to edit and post to my profile.
“May I join you?” I glance up to find Thomas looking down at me, hands shoved in his pockets, and shoulders hunched a little against the cold air.
