Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
SCOTTIE
“That baked potato was fucking phenomenal,” Wilder says while patting his mouth with his napkin.
Something I’ve noticed about Wilder is that he’s the glass-half-full kind of guy. Anything and everything has some sort of positive spin on it. He’s a millionaire at a marriage summer camp, claiming a baked potato—that I believe was slightly dry—was fucking phenomenal. Making bracelets was a “sick” activity. Running an obstacle course this morning was the most fun he’s had in a while. It’s the simple things that are making him happy, and I find that fascinating.
He has a thirst for life.
The need to explore.
To engage.
To experience the journey beyond a screen. He wants to capture moments on this earth, and I find it so refreshing.
“Wasn’t that good?” he asks as he downs the rest of his drink.
“Yeah, it was good,” I say, even though it could have used a little more sour cream in my opinion.
“The bacon was extra crispy too, and it turned into dust when I bit down on it. That’s what bacon should be. Dust in my mouth.”
“I’m not sure everyone would agree with you.”
“Would you?” he asks.
I shrug. “I like bacon in any form. It’s bacon. Just put it in my mouth.”
His lips cutely turn up in a smile. “Put it in your mouth, huh?”
I give him the side-eye. “Your lack of maturity is showing.”
“Is it? Or am I just clarifying?”
“It’s lacking.”
He clutches his chest. “Ooof, a man never wants to hear that.”
I’m about to tell him he’s being ridiculous when a pair of chino shorts steps in front of us.
Who could this be?
My eyes slowly travel up until Finky’s face comes into view. “Are you joining the group for some s’mores?”
S’mores with the Brads and Chad? Yeah, I think I’m good.
“We are,” Wilder says before I can stop him.
What? Nooooo.
“Great. We’re all headed out to the firepit now.”
“So are we. Catch you over there,” Wilder says jovially.
Finky nods and takes off.
Trying to keep my expression neutral and not spit fire at my pretend husband, I say, “What the hell are you doing?”
“What?” he asks.
“I don’t want to go have s’mores with them.”
“Why not?” he asks. “S’mores are good. Have you ever had one?”
“Of course I’ve had one. My God, Wilder.”
“Sorry. It’s just surprising you don’t want one.”
“This is not about the s’mores. This is about not wanting to spend time with my coworkers.”
“Oh, well, we don’t have to talk to them. We can construct our s’mores and then peace out.” Leaning in close, he says, “One thing you need to know about me: I have a sweet tooth, and my night is not complete without a little something sweet.”
“We have Nerds Clusters in the cabin. We could have had those.”
He shakes his head as if he’s really thought about this. “Those are not an after-dinner treat. Those are in-between-scheduled-event treats. We must savor and hold on to those as much as we can. If something like s’mores is offered to us, we must take it and hoard the Nerds Clusters for a day when no treats are offered.”
“Why are you this way?” I ask, hand on my hip.
“I wish I had an answer for you.” He loops his arm over my shoulder. “Come on. Let’s roast some marshmallows and melt some chocolate.”
“Okay, but we’re not staying, and we’re not getting friendly with them. We’re taking care of business, and then we’re leaving. Understood?”
“Got it,” he says, and then we head out of the dining hall and toward the firepit, where everyone is circled around the flames in chairs. There’s Brad, Duncan, Chad, and Finky and their respective partners—my living nightmare. Sort of surprised Ellison didn’t join the group. Then again, she seems to wander off with Sanders after dinner is served and they’ve done their theater production for the night. By the way, it was a reenactment of Space Jam tonight. The acting was so terrible that I almost lost my appetite.
Wilder, on the other hand, clapped louder than anyone in the room when they were done. Wasn’t sure if he was clapping because the torture was over or if it was because he truly enjoyed the show. I wouldn’t put it past him if he found the whole skit utterly entertaining.
“There they are,” Chad says and then motions to an Adirondack chair next to him. “I saved you two a seat to share.”
Of course he did. I can already tell you right now, I want to leave. I haven’t even sat down yet, and I want nothing more than to go back to the cabin and wash the day away.
Wilder though…
“Thanks, my man,” Wilder says as he takes a seat first and pulls me down on his lap. His hand finds my hip, and he tugs me in tight.
With a smirk that could actually make skin crawl, Chad hands us a stick with a marshmallow already attached to it. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” Wilder wastes no time and hovers the marshmallow over the flame as Chad’s wife hands us a plate with the makings of two s’mores.
“Now that everyone is here,” Finky says, “let’s get the game going.”
Pardon? I didn’t sign up for a game.
“Game?” I ask, looking around.
“Yeah,” Chad says with a grin. “We’re going to play Never Have I Ever.”
What are we, in high school? We are grown adults; we don’t play games like this anymore. Of course this is what the frat bros want to play.
Then again, we are missing one key factor.
“Uh, don’t you need drinks for that?” I ask, because if I’m forced to play this game with my coworkers, I’m really going to need a drink.
“This is the virgin version,” Chad says.
I’m going to tell you right now, if I had a boner, that shit would go flaccid immediately from that one sentence.
“We play every year and just raise our hands if we’ve done it.”
Wow, even more fun.
Please note that was said with sarcasm.
“You know, we’re actually getting pretty?—”
“Never have I ever had sex on the roof of a car at a scenic overlook in Connecticut,” Wilder shouts, causing everyone to quiet down. What the hell is he doing? When no one raises their hands, he takes my arm and shoots it straight up to the sky. “Come on, Pips. Be proud. That was an unforgettable night.”
Excuse me? Sex on top of a car roof? Has he lost his mind?
Chad glances at me, his eyebrows shooting straight to his hairline. “On top of a roof?” he asks.
“Yup,” Wilder says casually while spinning the marshmallow carefully. “Had a dent in the roof for years, but I didn’t care. Worth it.”
“Wow, okay.” Chad turns to Finky. “Keep it going for us.”
Or we can end it now and all go to our respective cabins, because I have a feeling that this is not going to end well for me.
Finky taps his finger to his chin and then says, “Never have I ever used something from the minibars in the cabin.”
Everyone raises their hands, including Wilder, who also raises my hand. “The condoms are trash,” Wilder says. “Can’t even get ‘ribbed for her pleasure’? What the hell is that?”
“Right,” Brad commiserates. “And fifteen dollars for three? My woman likes how I meet her needs, but five dollars per orgasm—outrageous.”
Not, uh, not something I want to know about Brad. Meeting his “woman’s needs” just made me gag.
“Wait, so do you all have lovemaking minibars too?” Wilder asks. “Because I thought we were the only ones with the kinky cabin?”
“You are the only one,” Chad says, almost irritated. “It’s the coveted cabin.”
Ew.
Coveted?
That’s not something you want to hear.
“It’s rare when they let a couple stay in it,” Duncan adds from the side.
Well, at least that’s reassuring. Can’t imagine what it would look like if you took a black light to the place. Probably startling.
“We’ve only had it once,” Brad says, making bile rise in my throat. Brad has been in there? That’s very unappealing to me. Good luck sleeping tonight. “And it was the best eight days of my life.”
His wife elbows him, but he doesn’t seem to care.
Guess what? I do. I care. I don’t need the image of Brad in our cabin while I try to go to sleep tonight.
“I can see that,” Wilder says.
And, Wilder, for the love of God, stop engaging.
“Are the handcuffs still there?” Brad asks.
“They are,” Wilder lazily answers as he stares off to the sky, almost like he’s reminiscing about using them.
“The lining on them is nice, right?”
“Really nice,” Wilder says with a nod. “Top tier if you ask me, and we’ve seen our fair share of handcuffs.”
Jesus, Wilder, please stop talking. I don’t need everyone knowing about my sex life, well…my nonexistent sex life. I mean, well, I don’t need them assuming what my sex life is like. There.
And then, to my chagrin, Wilder keeps talking. “Never have I ever been handcuffed to a bed.” He looks around the firepit, and then without breaking to pause, he raises his hand high toward the sky.
Why is everyone allowing him to control this game? Wasn’t this someone else’s idea? Why aren’t they the ones asking the questions?
But then, of course, the handcuff brigade starts chiming in. Brad’s wife raises her hand, Duncan raises his hand, and, boy oh boy, am I seeing him in a new light.
“What about you?” Chad asks me while Wilder pulls the marshmallow from the fire.
“Nah, she handcuffs me,” Wilder answers and then plops the marshmallow on the plate while my cheeks heat with embarrassment. “If you’re not letting your partner do the tying up, then you aren’t doing it right.” He sticks another marshmallow on a stick and then casually places it over the flames.
Chad doesn’t seem to care for that answer, and I have no reason why, but I can feel him look us up and down, ready to pounce. “You know, you two seem to be very comfortable with each other,” Chad says, a squint to his eye.
“I would hope so,” Wilder says, “We’re married.”
“But only this morning, you were arguing. Now you’re snuggling next to a fire? Make that make sense.”
“Chad, don’t,” Brad says.
Wait, hold on. Don’t what?
“It’s a simple question,” Chad says, pressing.
“No, a simple question would be asking what kind of handcuffs we use in the bedroom,” Wilder says. “Your question is loaded with doubt and unnecessary curiosity.”
“It just seems convenient is all.”
“What is so convenient?” Wilder asks, now sitting taller. I can feel him tense beneath me, no longer focused on the marshmallow but on the man next to us.
And this is a different side to him, a protective side. This is what Mika must see when Wilder is making sure he’s okay.
“Hey, how about we continue the game?” Duncan says. “Uh, never have I ever?—”
“Stop acting like we’re not all thinking or talking about it,” Chad says as he sets his s’mores plate to the side. “You’re faking it.”
Oh my God, what?
“Excuse me?” Wilder asks as my body goes numb from the thought of them finding out about us.
Call me a fool, but I thought we were doing a good job, that we were successfully presenting ourselves as a married couple. Sure, we’re not wearing wedding rings, nor do we seem like a happily married couple like the rest of them, but they knew that ahead of time, since we’re a marriage in crisis.
“Seriously, Chad,” Brad says. “Don’t.”
“No, something has to be said, because they’re playing the system.” He turns to us and says, “We take this camp seriously. This is a time for us to recharge our marriage, and you’re making a mockery of it, faking your issues so you can get more attention.”
My skin prickles.
My nerves jump in fear.
And I think it’s time we leave.
The tension from the group.
Wilder’s budding anger.
This can explode and not in a good way, especially since we have no leg to stand on when it comes to being here.
Wanting to step in before things get out of hand, I say, “Maybe we should?—”
“You think we’re faking our issues?” Wilder says, sitting up now and completely ignoring me.
“I think you’re not being genuine.”
“Is that why you brought us over here?” he asks. “To confront us?”
“No,” Brad says from the side, his wife looking like she wants nothing to do with this. “We were playing a game, like we always do.”
“Brad, don’t lie,” Chad says. “Just this afternoon, you were complaining about them.”
They were talking about us? All of them? What exactly were they saying? Were they judging me?
“I was not,” Brad says. “I was…I was complaining about the cabin they got.” Brad’s poor wife. “Everyone was.”
Confused, I ask, “Do you not have good cabins?”
“They’re not your cabin,” Chad says.
Lucky them. What I wouldn’t give to be in a normal cabin where I don’t wake up to the sight of a scrotum staring me down.
“Is this really what this is about?” Wilder asks. “You’re jealous we got a sex cabin?”
As if they would answer that…
The guys all look around and then lightly nod their heads.
Okay, maybe I was wrong.
Either way, I wish this conversation would end. Is that marshmallow burnt yet?
“Let me get this straight. You’re jealous we have a sex cabin, so that means you can gang up on us and make us feel bad about it? Call us out on supposed lies that are simply not true? Jesus.” Wilder lifts me up off his lap, tosses his stick into the firepit, and then says, “You’re all pathetic.”
Oh boy.
The anger has peaked.
“That cabin is reserved for the most problematic couple,” Chad says. “We know what you’re doing. Sanders’s philosophy is all about having an intimate and thriving sex life while combatting communication roadblocks. It all seems too convenient. You two are not communicating and don’t even touch each other, therefore, he’s going to make sure he works on you the hardest. They’re going to get the tent.”
What the hell is the tent?
“You don’t know that,” Brad says.
“Oh, I do. They’re going to get it. Just watch.” He shakes his head. “Mark my words, this is all a fucking farce.”
Umm, can we get clarification on the tent?
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Wilder says. “But it seems like you’re projecting. If you came here for some sex-a-thon with your partner, where cabins and tents matter to you, then maybe you’re in the wrong place.” He loops his arm around my waist. “We’ve been through a lot, the both of us, and we’re trying to figure things out. If you can’t handle that, if you can’t believe it, then that’s your own fucking problem, not ours.”
The looks on everyone’s faces. Shock.
Consider me shocked as well, because I don’t think I’ve ever had someone stick up for me like this before. How does he seem to suddenly comprehend my triggers now? And why do I feel so exposed and on edge?
Before anyone can make a comeback, he directs us away from the firepit, me still holding the plate with the s’mores, and we head to our cabin.
The walk back is in complete silence as we’re shrouded in the dark, only the pathway lights leading the way while crickets chirp in the distance and fireflies dance among the trees.
I’m not sure what to say honestly, because this whole situation was weird. Wilder upset—angry actually—that’s unsettling. He’s always happy-go-lucky, ready for anything, but I can feel the irritation coming off him. Did Chad strike a nerve?
And then there are my coworkers, talking about us behind our backs, jealous over a cabin. It’s all, like I said, weird. And that weirdness makes me feel incredibly insecure.
When we arrive at the cabin, Wilder unlocks it and lets me in first before he shuts the door and locks it.
Once again, silence falls between us while I stand awkwardly in the middle of the room with a plate of s’mores. Unsure of what exactly to do and slightly out of sorts about Wilder’s steaming attitude, I ask, “Are you okay?”
“Am I okay?” he asks, pointing to his chest while he slips his shoes off. “Why are you asking if I’m okay? The real question is are you okay?”
“I mean, I think so. You just seem very agitated.”
“I am agitated,” he replies. “Why aren’t you agitated?”
“I guess I don’t know how I feel,” I answer honestly. “For a second, I thought they were saying we were faking the marriage, and that got scary for a moment, because I didn’t want to get caught in that lie, and maybe they do have an inkling about us faking it all, but it just seems like you’re really angry.”
“I mean, yeah, I fucking am. Where does that douche come off, attacking you like that? He has no right. And over what? A fucking cabin? You know what…” He looks around the room. “I’ve got an idea.”
Oh God, he has a crazed look in his eyes.
“What are you thinking?” I ask.
He slips his shoes back on and then goes over to the basket of dildos and condoms and the Kama Sutra book. “Let’s spread the wealth.”
Uh, I don’t like that idea.
Not even a little.
“I think maybe we should just stay here,” I say.
He shakes his head and walks over to the nipple picture and snags it off the wall, only to toss it on the bed. Then he grabs the handcuffs from the bed, detaches them, and tosses them in the basket.
“Wilder, what are you doing?”
“Teaching these fucks a lesson.” He tucks the picture under his arm, grabs the basket, and says, “Come on.”
“Wait. Maybe we should think this through.”
“I’ve thought it through. If they’re so desperate for all these things, then we are going to give them the items they crave. Come on, Pips.”
There’s no stopping him, so out of desperation to make sure he doesn’t say anything insane, I follow him. As we approach the firepit, I hear Brad shush everyone just as Wilder sets the basket and picture on the empty Adirondack chair.
The circle stares at him, waiting for his next move, as an acute sweat breaks out on the back of my neck. What is he going to do?
“Since you all seem to be so jealous of the things in our cabin, we thought we would spread the wealth. Chad.” Wilder turns toward him. “Here’s a picture of a nipple. You seem to want to rev up your sex life. Maybe treat it as a genie lamp, rub it, and ask for your sex dreams to come true.” He tosses the picture at Chad.
Oh my God.
He then turns to Duncan and picks up a dildo and some lube. “For you and your husband. Probably the most useful thing I can offer you in this basket besides the handcuffs, but I think we all know who desperately wants those.” Wilder picks up the handcuffs and tosses them at Brad as my stomach churns with embarrassment. “I did not include a key—not even sure if they’re needed—but if you’re tied up for the rest of the days we’re here, it would be a gift for us all.”
“Hey, I was defending you.”
Wilder points at him. “You were bitching about the cabin.”
He then hands Finky a bunch of condoms and a vibrator and leaves it at that.
“Mind your own goddamn business, and keep your noses out of mine and my wife’s.” He starts to walk away but then says one more thing. “I have no idea what this tent is that you speak of, but if I have anything to say about it, none of you are going to get it.”
Then he takes my hand, and he charges us back to our emptied sex cabin.
It’s so weird not having my phone with me. Normally at night, I’d lie in bed, scroll through social media, maybe play a game on my phone, but without my device, I feel…weird, lost. Like I don’t know what to do with my hands while Wilder is in the bathroom, getting ready for bed.
I don’t know how to feel about what happened tonight. It was kind of comical, kind of insane, slightly embarrassing. Just a bunch of chaos—probably the best way to put it.
The bathroom door opens, and Wilder walks out in his typical sleep shorts, but this time, instead of wearing a T-shirt to bed like he has been the last few nights, he’s shirtless, and once again, my eyes wander all over his chest, as if I’ve never seen a man before.
“I’m still fucking fuming,” he says as he turns off the bathroom light, casting him in a shadow from the light on my nightstand. “I mean, who the fuck do they think they are? Trying to make you feel bad because they have an issue with us having the sex cabin? Jesus Christ, grow up.”
He flips the covers down and then gets in the bed.
Not used to seeing him this worked up, I say, “Do you think that Chad will rub the nipple tonight and ask for three wishes?”
“Knowing him, he’ll try it.” Wilder lies down and places one of his arms under his head. From the corner of my eye, I shamelessly watch his chest move up and down as he breathes. His pecs look much larger from this angle, and the divots in his stomach look sharper, more defined.
I shouldn’t be looking, but here I am, drooling over my best friend’s brother.
Has it really been that long for me? I think back to the last time Matt and I were intimate. Yeah, it’s been a long time. A really long time. Because even the last time we were together, he didn’t deliver.
I bet Wilder delivers every single time.
“Did you hear me?”
“Huh?” I ask, my brain snapping back into the present.
“I asked if you were okay.”
“Oh, uh, I mean, sort of. It was kind of a crazy night, you know? Chaotic.”
“Yeah.” He drags his hand over his face. “I’m sorry if I lost it there. I just…I don’t like it when I see people get picked on, and I felt like that was what was happening. Those dicks ganged up on you, and I don’t fucking appreciate it.”
Well, this is new.
Not sure I’ve ever had anyone stand up for me like this before. I’m not sure I know how to handle myself.
“It’s fine?—”
“It’s not fine,” Wilder says as he turns toward me. “You should never settle for that type of behavior from anyone.”
“I mean, they were just upset about the sex cabin. At least that’s all they were upset about.”
Wilder’s eyes widen. “Are you really sticking up for their behavior right now? Please tell me that’s not the case, Scottie.”
I pause before answering, because am I? Am I sticking up for their behavior?
“Is that what you used to do for your ex?” he asks.
Uh, pardon me? Why did he go there?
“No,” I say, feeling offended.
“Are you sure?” he asks, pressing.
“Yes,” I say. “And it’s rude that you’re even asking.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, “But, Scottie, this is the kind of behavior that should not be tolerated, and you’re letting it slide.”
“I’m not letting it slide.” I sit up now. “If anything, your behavior was out of line.”
“What?” he asks, eyes widening. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“No, I’m not.”
“You’re saying that I was out of line because I was standing up for you back there? Tell me how that makes sense.”
“You made a bigger deal out of everything than you should have.”
“Me?” he asks, pointing to his chest again. “You’re saying I’m the one who made a big deal out of that conversation? Scottie, they were bitching about a fucking sex cabin. They were calling us out on being fake?—”
“We are being fake!” I shout. “Everything about this is fake, Wilder. We could have just shrugged it off, but you didn’t. You kept pushing.”
“I was pushing to protect you.”
“No, you were protecting something else…maybe your pride.”
“You think this has to do with pride?” He shakes his head. “There is one thing I can guarantee you, babe. My pride will never be a thing you need to worry about getting in the way. Never. I’m not a prideful man. I don’t walk around, puffing my chest, needing to be the top dog.”
“Well, you did tonight.”
“You’re wrong,” he says matter-of-factly.
“Excuse me?”
“I said, you’re wrong. I’m not that man.”
“Well, you sure acted like it tonight.”
“I don’t understand why you’re mad at me. I stuck up for you?—”
“You embarrassed me,” I yell, causing him to pull back. “What you did was unnecessary. Okay? It was just not needed. I take that stuff from them all the time. It’s why they’re the Brads and Chad. And this might be all fun and games and improv for you, but this is my real life. I have to go back to work with them, and they’re going to see me, knowing that I’m the girl with the husband who was handing out pictures of nipples and dildos to my coworkers. That was…embarrassing.”
He twists his lips to the side, and after a few seconds, he says, “I’m sorry you see it that way. I see it differently.”
And then with that, he turns away from me and tucks his hands under his pillow, signaling that this conversation is over.
His back’s toward me, and there’s silence. It all feels so real, so familiar that as I turn away from him as well and turn out my light on my nightstand, my stomach churns with insecurity. It feels like we had our first genuine fight.