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“Ugh, I hate that expression,” Erin says.
“What expression? Dad bod?” I ask.
“Yeah, I mean, the dad doesn’t grow a human being inside his abdomen for nine months, causing his hips to widen and stomach to stretch, yet he can get a beer gut and call it a dad bod, and it’s supposed to be cute,” she explains.
“So, your problem is that we don’t call women’s big guts mom bods?” Scooter asks.
I spit beer across the firepit.
Erin’s eyes narrow. “Don’t ever say that again.”
“But you just said—” he begins.
“Zip.”
“But—”
“Zip it,” she demands.
He throws his hands in the air.
“When is your wedding?” Joanna asks Ansley, trying to change the subject.
“Christmas Eve. That’s why the resort is closing for the holiday. Garrett rented out the entire hotel for our guests to ensure our privacy. We were going to have it the weekend before the grand opening to avoid having to close it, but it didn’t work out with his touring schedule, and Langford thought it’d be nice for the staff to have the option to go home for a few days for Christmas if they wanted to.”
“Not me. I’d rather work. Every time I go home for the holidays, my mom invites my ex,” Clay says.
“That sucks. Being forced to spend time with an ex would be super uncomfortable,” Erin says.
“Yeah, especially when they hand you an STD pamphlet after the pleasantries,” Scooter mutters.
All eyes turn to him.
“Hypothetically.”
“No offense, but you give me the creeps,” Erin tells him.
“None taken.”
I sit back and enjoy the sight of my friends, old and new, bantering and having a good time together.
As the fire dies down and the night grows colder and the snow starts to fall, the crowd begins to dwindle.
Zoey makes her way to the chair beside me.
“How’s the eye?” she asks.
“Fine. If it wasn’t for the relentless pirate jokes from Scooter, I wouldn’t even notice it,” I reply.
“You didn’t have to leave the patch on all night,” she says.
“I know, but I wanted to make sure everyone remembers I’m injured, and that’s why they’re hanging out with me and not scaling the mountain.”
“Good plan,” she muses.
“I think the keg is finally tapped out,” Clay calls.
Scooter stands. “That’s our sign to get our asses out of the freezing cold. It’s been fun.”
