Chapter Ten
Ten
POCONOS, PA
The GPS announced we’d reached our destination, but the heart-shaped sign arching over the stony driveway was saying otherwise.
Pocono Woods Couples Resort, it proclaimed. Where lovers love to love!
I turned to Dex, wincing as the leather gripped my sunburned legs. He stared at the sign.
“So,” I said. Phoebe tittered in the back seat, surrounded by a moat of prizes, empty bags of cotton candy, and kettle corn. “Do you want to explain why you decided we should stay at a couples resort in the Poconos?”
“I didn’t,” he said.
“Did you plug the wrong address into the GPS?”
“No.”
He pulled out his phone, squinting at the brightness.
It was after seven, the sun sinking behind the trees, and we were exhausted from two and a half hours in the car after a day at Coney Island.
If I didn’t have access to a hot shower and a pillowy bed in the next fifteen minutes, I couldn’t be held responsible for the monster possessing my body for the foreseeable future.
“Dex.”
“I did not book us a couples resort,” he repeated through gritted teeth.
“This might be the best day of my life,” Phoebe said.
Dex lifted his gaze from his phone to the sign, flicking between the two. “I’m going to kill him,” he said calmly. “Excuse me.”
He climbed out of the car, bringing the phone to his ear. Phoebe popped up through the center console, grinning. “Imagine how many people have had sex here,” she said. I winced and turned down her playlist so I could hear the stones crunching under Dex’s shoes.
“Stop.”
“All the spermy sheets.”
“Oh, gross.” I shoved Phoebe to the back seat and she fell on her side, laughing. Outside, Dex paced until whoever was on the other side of the phone answered.
“Why the fuck am I at a couples resort, Gavin?” His voice echoed up into the surrounding trees. “This is the in you had at a hotel? Are you fucking serious?”
“Gavin,” Phoebe echoed. “Isn’t that the guy who called you?”
“Yeah,” I said, thinking of the strange phone call I’d received during which Dex’s friend interrogated me about my criminal record and my whereabouts during various political atrocities over the last decade before casually admitting to burning down his own dorm room.
That dude had led us here. “Apparently, Dex takes advice from a dude who committed quote-unquote ‘light arson.’ ”
Phoebe laughed. Everything about the situation immediately lightened. Her happiness was a lifeboat—even when things seemed irreversibly bad, we remained afloat.
Dex scrubbed a hand down his face, his body tense like a spring on the brink of snapping.
His shirt had come untucked from his pants, yet remained miraculously wrinkle-free after Coney Island and the drive since.
Still intimidating—but I found myself opening windows I’d intended to keep locked with him.
Our conversation on that bench triggered a temptation to pick his brain about everything from the odd-shaped water tower we passed on the highway, to how healthy his relationship was with his parents, to how much he’d told his friends about our trip.
I wanted to know him, I realized, and I wanted him to want to know me.
I tried not to read into it—I simply liked being liked.
Dex’s eyes snagged mine across the dirt drive. His expression shifted imperceptibly and he turned his back to the car, moving several paces away. I rolled my eyes. As if eavesdropping was our biggest concern right now.
When he returned, he grumbled something under his breath and put the car in drive, bumping down the driveway instead of turning around.
“So,” I said. His fingers tightened against the steering wheel. “Your friend has an in?”
“Yes.”
“An in here?” Phoebe pressed gleefully.
“His aunt knows the owner.”
“Very cool. Very chill.” I crossed my legs, angling toward him. “So, you’re fine with this. Us staying at a couples hotel. In the Poconos. Some might say the honeymoon capital of the world.”
“We’re not staying here,” he said, shooting me a dirty look. “I paid for the rooms. I’m getting a refund and we’ll find someplace else to stay.”
“According to Google,” Phoebe said, appearing between us, “there are eleven other couples resorts in the Poconos. We can take our pick!”
The hotel emerged in all its glory—an expansive log cabin painted bubblegum pink with various topiaries of mythical creatures (unicorns and mermaids and centaurs, oh my!) and beautiful gardens surrounding the area. A practical joke. I could hear my dad laughing.
“Again,” I said as Phoebe whipped out Dad’s camera to snap a photo of the topiary garden, “your friend has an in here?”
“I don’t know,” Dex said.
The décor inside was tamer: Dark wood floors and high ceilings helped tone down the garishness of the pink crystal chandelier and floral mosaic fireplace. Dex approached the reception desk, where a woman in a pink jumpsuit with teased hair waited, beaming.
“Hello, sweethearts!” she crowed, clasping her hands together as if the mere sight of a man and woman standing next to each other made her swoon.
When she noticed Phoebe, she blinked several times in quick succession, and then glanced around the room like she might spot a hidden camera behind a bedazzled palm tree. “We don’t usually have children here.”
Dex withdrew his wallet. “I need to cancel a reservation.”
“Cancel?” the woman repeated. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand what’s happening.”
“A refund, ideally. It’s under ‘Dexter.’ ”
“Refund?” Shaking her head, she turned to the computer, typing frantically. “A reservation for tonight? We need twenty-four hours’ notice to provide a refund.” Dex glowered, and I swore I could see sweat beading on her forehead. “It’s policy. I’m sorry.”
“Policy,” Dex repeated. I stepped in front of him before he could unleash hell on this poor woman.
“Hi,” I said, offering a smile. “Sorry about him. He gets cranky before bed. So, here’s what happened.
” I leaned against the desk, donning my best parent-teacher conference voice.
“A friend recommended your lovely establishment, but he happened to leave out the fact that it’s a couples hotel. You can imagine our confusion.”
The woman laughed nervously. “Yes, I imagine it was quite a surprise.”
“We’re exhausted. On our way to Oregon, been driving since Boston,” I told her, and her eyes lit up.
“A road trip! How wonderful! What’s in Oregon?”
“It’s a long story.” I lowered my voice, adding, “Our dad just died.”
Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh. I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks.” I sighed, wishing this wasn’t the second time I’d done the dead dad bit in less than two weeks.
To be honest, Dad would have encouraged it, but it still felt sort of slimy.
“It’s been rough. My sister, Phoebe—the one taking a picture of the taxidermied bear dressed like Dolly Parton?
—she’s been taking it hard, but the trip is helping.
Anyway, I’m just trying to say that we’re tired and sad and this is a huge misunderstanding. ”
“Of course, of course.” The woman looked between us, biting her lip. “You know, you’ve been through so much. I’ll refund the reservation, no problem.”
I placed a hand over my heart. “Oh my gosh. Thank you so much.”
“I’d hate for you to get back on the road when you’re so tired, though,” she said. “Why don’t you take the room, anyway? On the house.”
“No,” Dex said, taking a step backward. “Thanks.”
“Uh, hello? We will absolutely take it,” I cut in, meeting his incredulous gaze. “We’re not passing on a free room.”
“A free room here. In this hotel.”
“Who cares if everything is pink and heart shaped? Have a little whimsy in your heart.”
Phoebe snorted. Dex clenched his jaw so hard, I expected to hear a tooth crack.
“We’ll take it,” I said to the receptionist, who beamed again. “But, uh, is that one room? As in one bed?”
“The reservation was for one room.”
“I reserved two,” Dex said. She shrank back. “Two rooms.”
“I’m sorry. There must have been a mistake.”
“Well, we can pay for another room,” I said, bumping Dex’s arm with my shoulder. The woman shrank even more.
“We’re all booked up this weekend, unfortunately.”
I threw on another smile. “It’s fine. It’ll be fine,” I said. “Thank you for being so accommodating.”
“Enjoy your stay!” She hesitated. “Maybe keep the child out of the courtyard past ten?”
My eyes widened. Dex coughed.
“Oh.” I laughed uncomfortably. “Yeah, we’ll, uh. We’ll do that. Thanks.”
“Oh my god,” Phoebe whispered, grabbing my arm as Dex finished checking in. I steered her away from the desk, cheeks burning. “I wanna go to the nighttime orgy in the courtyard!”
“Stop. That can’t be what it is.”
“What else would it be?”
An orgy, almost definitely. Out loud, I said, “Book club, maybe.”
She tossed me a dubious look. “Yeah, okay. Let’s all go read smut in the dark.”
“Don’t say ‘smut.’ ”
Dex appeared at my side, the dark half-moons beneath his eyes draining the life out of him. “You go ahead. I’ll get the bags.”
“We can help with the bags,” Phoebe chirped, posture straightening. “We’re not helpless ladies with brittle bones.”
“Speak for yourself,” I muttered, resisting the urge to massage my lower back.
Every part of my body ached after spending half the day exploring Coney Island and the other half in a car.
The free hotel room was certainly enticing, but the more selfish truth was I couldn’t force myself back into the car.
Besides, Phoebe loved it here. We could survive a night in lovey-dovey hell.
The three of us collected our bags and headed up to the room, admiring framed vintage photographs of various weddings. It was my favorite detail thus far, even before Phoebe gasped and snapped a Polaroid of vintage lesbians.