29. Chapter 29
Chapter twenty-nine
Gina
Theo and I paddle into the small bay, and there’s no sign of Benji or his family. I gave him thorough directions, but the only trail that leads to this beach is small, unmarked, and not on the map. It’s not a place guests know about, which makes it the perfect place to spend the day.
Just because Diana is enjoying an afternoon of being pampered at Aurora doesn’t mean Happy Lake is safe. We have enough regulars who know us. They might say something to Diana or tell Benji’s family that I’m marrying Milo on Tuesday.
Of course, there’s always a chance someone will come by boat, but we’d see them coming before they got a good view of us.
What I didn’t count on was Benji getting lost. Given his history, that’s on me. But by the time Theo and I pull the canoe onto shore, their voices float through the trees, laughing and joking, giving Benji a hard time.
It’s a beautiful summer’s day. We swim, eat, and swim again. Theo and Elliot take the kids out in the canoe one by one. Natalie and Thomas relax in the double hammock I strung in the shade between two maples. Benji’s parents sit in the camp chairs next to the blanket we’re on.
Maybe it’s the heat of the sun, the delicious little breeze, or how kind and friendly Benji’s family has been, but I’m relaxed. My head is resting on Benji’s thigh as I stare up at the sky through the canopy of a poplar. The day stretches out, long and lazy, like summers used to do.
It’s an illusion. There’s so much to do, and thinking about Tuesday puts an icy ball of dread deep in the pit of my stomach. But Benji toys with my curls while he’s talking to his parents, and for a little while, I can be content.
“Excuse me, Gina,” Benji says, lifting my head gently to ease his leg from under me. “There’s something I gotta do.”
I sit up, watching Benji whip his shirt over his head while running to the water, where the kids have been shouting at him to join them in some game with a beach ball.
Theo and Elliot are already in the water, and the canoe is safely back on the beach.
Benji splashes into the water without slowing down.
Angela leans over, drawing my attention away from Benji’s muscular body. “He’s a good boy.”
It’s embarrassing to get caught checking out her son, even if he is my husband, and I can feel my face go red. And for the first time, I feel like a cougar. Suddenly, nothing I can say feels right.
“But you think I’m too old for him?” I ask tentatively. She has to be thinking it, right? Everyone has been warm and welcoming, but we don’t have that comfortable familiarity yet. I can’t tell if that’s because we’ve just met or if it’s something else.
Angela laughs. “No, not at all. I can see how happy he is with you, and that’s all any of us want for him. Benji getting married wasn’t on our bingo card this year, but Benji knows what he wants and has never been afraid to go after it. Not many people know who they are at his age, but he does.”
We watch in silence as he dunks his brother. She’s right. He’s so solid and comfortable with who he is. Of course, he knows what he wants—it probably comes naturally to him.
I'm nine years older and still figuring out who I am and what I want. Benji has helped with that in some ways and confused me in others, but ultimately, I wish I could be more like him.
“He has a big heart,” Angela says. “I think you know how to appreciate that.”
I hope I do, but as I bite my lip and nod, I worry it’s not true. How can I ask him to keep us a secret, to stand by while I pretend I’m in love with Milo?
“It’s a pleasure to welcome you to the family,” she says with a smile.
They’re my family now. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me before.
It’s been me and Mom for so long, but now I have brothers-in-law.
A sister-in-law. Kids who will call me Aunt Gina.
A mother-in-law and a father-in-law who didn’t need me to do every little thing to make this picnic on a beach happen—who didn’t blow it off because something else came along.
Tears sting my eyes, and I don’t know what I’m even feeling.
Elation that Benji’s family wants me, resentment at my grandmother and mother for making me grow up too fast. Jealousy because if I had a family like Benji’s, maybe I wouldn’t feel so fractured.
I’d know myself well enough to know what would make me truly happy and have the courage to go after it. I wouldn’t be stuck in all these lies.
Benji calls my name, saving me from responding.
He waves for me to join him as he walks out of the water.
Grains of sand stick to his feet, and water drips off his light blue board shorts and down his legs.
The smile on his face knocks everything out of my head, and I smile back.
I can’t help it. His smiles are everything.
Benji stops in front of the blanket and holds out his hands.
I slip mine into his damp, cool palms, and he pulls me easily to my feet.
Maybe he pulls too hard, or maybe I fall into him, but his hands slip from mine up my arms to my elbows as I crash lightly into his chest. His blue-green eyes are soft, and his lips quirk. “Hi,” he whispers.
“Hi.” My voice is barely more than an exhale.
He’s cool and wet, and now the front of me is, too, and I couldn’t care less.
He sweeps me up into his arms, carrying me toward the lake.
“I can walk,” I protest, but this is better, anyway.
I want his skin against mine, the warmth building everywhere we touch.
It feels so good, and I ride that high long after we pack up everything and head back to the cabin.
There’s no message on my phone from Milo or Briar—only about ten missed calls and a handful of texts from my mother asking me to call her back, which I will later—and Diana’s busy with her book club tonight.
The evening brings a refreshing coolness with it.
We drink craft beers and play cornhole while pop music plays on a Bluetooth speaker.
Cooking dinner is like a game of musical chairs, with everyone taking turns peeling corn, slicing tomatoes, or working the grill, switching and swapping to some rhythm they all seem to get.
Cabin eight is the one I dragged Benji to the day he showed up so we could talk in private.
The outdoor space—picnic table, fire pit, grill—is behind the cabin, backed against the forest, out of sight of the rest of the camp, not counting the cabin next door, which is currently occupied by first-timers who leave on Sunday.
So I don’t stop Benji when he grabs my hand, spinning me around and dancing me over the grassy lawn straight through a cornhole game.
Well, he’s dancing. I’m stumbling and laughing, and I forget.
So does Benji. We’re still swaying when he leans down and kisses me.
It’s not a long kiss, but he lingers close, murmuring a soft “I fucking love you” before spinning me abruptly away again.
My laugh dies on my lips. Pamela and Joelle are standing at the edge of the lawn with a couple of bottles of wine and stunned expressions.
Oh shit.
Benji steps closer. “How do you want to play this?”
The only options are to cling to the lie and admit I was smooching my second cousin despite my engagement or to bring Pamela and Joelle into the circle of trust and tell them the truth.
I’m so sick of the lies.
I grab Benji’s hand and pull him over before Pam and Joelle recover from their shock.
“Kissing cousins,” Pamela remarks to Joelle with a short laugh.
I glance over my shoulder, but no one in Benji’s family is paying attention to us yet.
“We aren’t related,” I say in a hushed tone, releasing Benji’s hand to usher the two women around the cabin and out of sight of Benji’s family.
“No shit,” Joelle says, crossing her arms. “It’s not any of our business—”
Pamela makes a noise that suggests she disagrees with this statement.
“—but we’ve been coming here since you were a child, Gina. You can talk to us.”
Benji slips his hand over mine and squeezes.
“You can’t say a word about any of this to anyone,” I say, looking from one to the other until I’m certain they know I mean it.
Once they both promise, I tell them a short version of the truth, from my impulsive Vegas marriage to our plan to ensure my marriage to Milo isn’t legal.
Joelle’s eyebrows rise throughout, and Pamela’s jaw drops before she covers her mouth with her hand, but when I’m finished, neither says anything for thirty seconds.
“You are in big trouble, young lady,” Pamela says.
“This plan of yours to disappear the certificate won’t work,” Joelle says. “The moment the officiant says man and wife, you’re a bigamist. He can’t say that.”
From what I’ve read online, that’s not true—but how much trust can I put in Google these days? What if she’s right?
“You think we should tell Diana the truth?” I ask, my stomach clenching. Benji squeezes my hand again, a reminder that he’s suggested the truth. A tiny part of me is terrified he might be right. We should tell the truth and let the cards fall where they will.
Pamela shakes her head violently. “Hell no. You can’t lose Happy Lake. If you lose Happy Lake, we might lose Happy Lake. We’ve been coming here for decades. We don’t want it to change.”
I bite my lip. Right. I’m not the only person with something to lose here.
Next to me, Benji sighs, but he squeezes my hand again, and this time it feels supportive.
“We’re going to help you,” Pamela adds, patting his arm.
“We’ve got it under—”
Joelle shushes me. “You don’t have anything under control.”
I really don’t. And because the universe wants to grind my nose in it, my mother’s ancient Jeep is crawling along the loop road like she does whenever she’s looked in all the usual places for me already and doesn’t have the patience to wait for me to call her back.
It doesn’t happen often, but it has happened before.
“We’ll sabotage the wedding,” Joelle says abruptly.
“Burn down the marquee?” Pamela suggests.
“No, too risky,” Joelle says, tapping a finger against her chin. “Wouldn’t want the whole camp to go up.”
“She sees us,” Benji leans close to say to me as my mom speeds up.
I rub at the bridge of my nose. Some days, it feels like everything happens all at once. The wedding date, Benji’s family, Pamela and Joelle, and now my mother.
I want to grab Benji’s hand and drag him off into the woods to hide for a week or two—or however long it would take for all these problems to disappear. Except disappearing would add to their number.
“Don’t worry, Gina,” Joelle says, patting my arm. “We’ll figure something out. No, Pamela, don’t give her the wine—we’ll need it to help us plan how to stop this wedding.”
With any luck, the only thing these two will be plotting in the near future is Bloody Marys for their hangovers.
Pamela, who’d been trying to hand us the wine, gives us a sheepish grin instead.
“Does your mother know all this?” Joelle asks as my mom climbs out of her Jeep and slams the door.
“Yeah.” Judging by the look on her face as she storms over, she found out about the wedding date change.
“We’ll come up with something,” Pamela says over her shoulder as Joelle leads her away.
My mother greets them in passing as she stomps directly up to me. “Did that woman seriously move the date for—”
There’s a lull in the music, so I clamp my hand over her mouth before her words can carry. “Shh. Benji’s family is here, and they don’t know.”
Her expression pulls a complete one-eighty, and she glances at Benji as I drop my hand. “Hi Benji. Can I meet them? Do they know about—?”
“They know we’re married,” I answer. “They don’t know anything about Milo or the wedding. You cannot tell them.”
She makes a dismissive noise and brushes past me, her sheer flowy blouse billowing behind her. Are there freaking purple feathers in her hair?
“Benji—”
“It’ll be fine,” he says, wrapping an arm around my shoulder as we head into the carnage.