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Becca and I walked to the master bedroom, and I set our suitcases on the ottoman near the bed: a massive, four-poster king bed with soft cotton sheets and a Pendleton throw blanket. We were greeted with a gust of cold air as we walked in; the window unit in the corner was on full blast.
“I think I like camping,” Becca said as she peeked out of the huge window into the forest.
“I thought you would. Do you need to change or anything before we go to dinner?” I asked. I made our reservations at a seafood restaurant in town.
Becca shook her head. “I’m good if you are!”
We ate dinner on a polished dock overlooking the lakefront, and grinned in glee as we cracked open fresh lobster and crabs.
Becca took another bite of her lobster roll and groaned in pleasure, “That’s the thing about being pregnant, things are either gross, or it’s the best food you’ve ever tasted,” she explained.
We finished our food and paid, then drove back to the cabin. I set up the fire pit in the front yard. The sun was just starting to set; streaks of orange and pink colored the sky and the treetops. I poured a dash of Firestarter onto the logs, and lit one with a lighter I found in an old grill. The flames jumped up in no time. Becca returned with supplies for S’mores and paper plates. I set up two lawn chairs around the flames.
Becca skewered two and stuck them into the flames, rotating them slowly until each side was golden brown.
“You’re amazing at this,” I said as she pulled two perfectly roasted marshmallows out of the fire. I presented her with a plate of chocolate and the homemade graham crackers she had made for the occasion.
“I won an award at camp once for best S’mores. I have a reputation to live up to,” she said as she squished a graham crack on top of the first marshmallow and pulled the skewer out. She handed it to me.
“Really? They give you awards at camp?”
“Oh yes, it gets very competitive,” Becca said.
“I had no idea,” I said, taking a bite of my S’more.
I took a final swig of my beer, and grabbed a fresh one. Soon, we’d each polished off at least two S’mores. Becca’s homemade graham crackers made them absolutely heavenly.
“I love that you can see the stars up here. It’s such a nice break from Boston,” Becca said.
When we finally went to bed, Becca and I slept like the dead. The next morning, Becca woke up and made scrambled eggs. We’d packed some light groceries so we wouldn’t have to go into town for food all weekend. She handed me a plate when I stumbled into the kitchen. “Hey, sleepy head,” Becca teased.
“What can I say? I sleep way better up here, no distractions.” I took the plate out of Becca’s hand and sat at the table. Becca joined me.
“I was thinking we could go fishing,” I suggested.
“That sounds wonderful! I love fishing!” Becca replied.
“Okay, it’s settled then. Good thing I brought an extra rod.”
I went down to the local bait shop and purchased a literal can of worms while Becca got ready for the day. When I returned, Becca was lounging on the porch.
“Alright, let’s go fishing!” I handed Becca a rod, and she grinned. Together we walked down the dock behind the property. The water was a deep, clear turquoise. I could see turtles swimming and bits of seaweed bobbing in the water.
Becca slathered her arms and her face in sunscreen. She grabbed a fishing rod from me and plucked a worm from the can.
“You don’t need help?” I exclaimed.
Becca shook her head, “Nah. I love fishing!” She threaded the hook through the worm with ease and reeled the line back before tossing it out into the lake. Again, I was in awe of her seemingly endless supply of talents.
We spent the rest of the day fishing and laughing as we sunbathed on the deck. Becca caught the world’s tiniest trout. The minuscule fish dangled on the line for a few seconds before Becca tossed it back into the lake.
“Why’d you do that?” I asked.
“It was too small! I wanted to give it a chance to live.”
By the night’s end, the two of us were suntanned and exhausted. We had a quick dinner before heading off to our separate bedrooms; we needed to be up early tomorrow to get back to Boston.
Becca dug through her suitcase, looking for something to wear to bed.
