In case you’re wondering, Dylan did tell me about Saffron—how they’d dated for a few months during law school and broken up to become really good friends. That was it. I appreciated him telling me.
Oh, and in case you’re wondering, I didn’t tell Dylan about the emails Myles and I exchanged. I mean, they’re just emails.
Right?
We were sitting by the frozen lake.
Dylan reached over and squeezed my knee. I covered his mitten-covered hand with my own a moment before I let it go. The snow was gently falling, the bonfire crackled and threw its cozy heat, and life was pretty darned good.
I had that contended feeling—the warmth of the fire, the boyfriend beside me. Oh yeah, and I was three sheets to the wind.
“Here’s to good old times,” Chevy said. He and his wife, Colleen, had just gotten back from a skate and rejoined the group, sitting down beside Jack and his husband, Kyle.
Our chalet was the only one rented out that weekend, but the owner still had been kind enough to get the ice shoveled for skating, the bonfire ready for lighting, and the chalet nice and warmed. Oh, and she’d sent over her seventeen-year-old daughter to babysit Saffron’s little fellow, Rhett, so we could enjoy our evening by the fire worry free.
Saffron Pratt looked so much like me, she could have been a younger version, which was both flattering and disturbing. We were both blonds, naturally, about the same height. So I didn’t mean to...but I liked her right away. Once we got talking, I could really understand what Dylan had seen in her. She was intelligent, had a wicked sense of humor, and was crazy about her little boy.
Despite the sitter, Saffron did venture the long and slippery trek up to the chalet every half hour or so (well, the bathroom was there). She was a single mom to an adorable little boy that looked nothing like Dylan, and yeah, I did make the comparisons. Rhett’s father was out of the picture, and they were better off without him, according to Saffron.
I’d yet to make the trek up to pee. Brr, I wasn’t looking forward to it.
“Another shot, Dix?” Saffron asked me.
“Sure.” I passed over my oversized mug, and she poured me another generous shot of Polar Ice vodka. “Anything to stay warm.”
“Amen to that,” Chevy said. He twisted the top off another cooler.
Drink in hand, I sat back in the camping chair. Dylan had scooched his chair over, and in a moment his arms were around me. He looked at ease. More at ease and happy than I’d seen him in a long time.
Life’s strange. So many folks come in and out of our personal timelines. You might go years without seeing them. But then you do, and it’s…well, comfortable. Works out okay. Like Dylan with Saffron, Jack, and Chevy. And me with Caryn Sommers.
Once things had settled down at that most-memorable breakfast, we got some more details. Caryn had worked for the Drammens since she’d left high school. After she left junior year, she got a job at one of Hugh’s hotels. Apparently, it was too much for poor Caryn. That sense of security in same time, same place, same people sort of thing. She needed it. Hugh happened to take notice of her, and he helped her out. It turned out that Hugh had left the house to Caryn in his will, as well as a sizable chunk of change. A fact that Tammy had known for years, but Hugh hadn’t divulged to anyone else in the family. Caryn was one of them—yeah, family.
And speaking of sense of security, Tammy had spilled her heart to the Baileys-pouring Mrs. Presley. And, not surprisingly, Mrs. P hadn’t breathed a word of it to me. But one thing for sure, Allen Boyden was a Class A jerk. Tammy just needed a good dose of Mrs. P’s common sense to kick his ass to the curb.
The affair she was having with Lincoln Crotty?
Life happens.
Morris had decided to stay in Ontario for a little while longer. Or a long while longer. If I didn’t miss my guess—and I seldom do about these things—he had a thing for Caryn. Everyone was glad to have him stay on. Even Elizabeth. Oh, and that whole misconception about them vouching for each other the night of the fire? Turns out Elizabeth was having Morris look at the grandfather clock. It seemed to be a minute off, and knowing her husband’s obsession with time, she had wanted it perfect.
Elizabeth Bee-Drammen was greatly relieved that no one was really trying to harm her Hugh-Bear. I honestly believed she loved her husband. Maybe not as much as her assets...but in her own way.
And Dylan and I were paid in full. By Elizabeth. That fat envelope of cash from Hugh Drammen himself would have been nice. Really nice. But it wasn’t to be.
“Hey, remember that time in Professor Heinrich’s Corporate Taxation class when you were so hung over, Saff?” Chevy laughed. He leaned over to explain to Colleen. “She’d been seriously into the tequila the night before. Margarita-ville all the way.”
“Hey, my twin brother was in town,” Saffron protested. “I hadn’t seen him in years. What could I do?”
Dylan laughed. “We all were hung over, if I recall correctly.”
“Hey, talk about embarrassing,” Jack said. “Dylan, remember that time we went to karaoke at the campus bar?”
“Oh yeah,” Dylan said. “That was—”
“Awesome!” Saffron said. “You have the most amazing voice.”
Oh, dear God! She’d said that with a straight face!
Jack and Chevy exchanged silent glances. Yep, they knew what a horrible singer Dylan was. Their wide grins confirmed it.
“Another shot, Dix?” Saffron had already poured it.
I grabbed the tiny glass and smiled at all of them.
They were happy. We were happy. I liked this, and I felt just like Dylan hoped I would—at ease. His friends were great. I’d taken that leap of faith that Dylan had asked me to, and I was glad I had. Yes, I’d been brave.
And now it was time to be braver still.
I stood.
“Where are you going, Dix?” Dylan asked.
“I have to pee.”
He got up. “Let me walk you to the chalet.”
“Pfft. Hardly.”
The guys had done the walk around the woodshed to relieve themselves. Well, if it was good enough for the guys, it was good enough for pee. I mean for me.
I trampled through the snow around the corner of the building. But barely around. I leaned back and smiled at the fireside group, and I pulled the FUD out from my parka pocket.
I unzipped my pants, pushed them down slightly, and placed the device (thankfully warm, as it had been inside my jacket). I smiled back over my shoulder at Dylan.
This was love, baby. I was peeing standing up!
And when I was done, I shook it like an old pro.
I tracked back through the snow and sat down beside Dylan again.
Aside from the crackling of the fire, there was dead silence.
Finally, Chevy leaned over to Dylan. In a harsh stage whisper, he said, “Um, Dylan, your chick’s a dude.”
Everyone exploded with uncontrollable laughter, including Dylan.
I opened my mouth to explain I’d been using a FUD, but before I could get a word out, Dylan, turned me into his arms and kissed me silly. “Yes,” he said. “And she has the most remarkable breasts.”
Chevy frowned. “You mean, for a dude?”
Dylan froze, a look of horror entering his eyes. “No, no, noooo! This can’t be happening again!” He turned to the others. “I meant for anyone. Man or woman. I mean, she is a woman, I swear, despite the dick. I mean, it’s not a real dick. I should know—I gave it to her.”
That produced a whole new round of hooting and laughing.
I could have helped him out, but I didn’t. I was already looking forward to reminding him that he was one up in the blunder department. Yes, we really are that competitive.
So as Dylan tried to scrabble his way out of the hole he’d dug for himself, I sat there smiling and said not a word.
Life is weird...sometimes in a very good way.