Till Summer Do Us Part(22)

“Did you?”

“Who knows.” I toss my hands in the air. “He played the ‘she doesn’t want kids’ card, which is a dirty hand to play. Oh, and speaking of hands, he held mine during the session and then after when we walked away.” I connect both of my hands in front of my face and shake them. “Held it.”

Mika starts shaking the tumbler on his right side. “So he made it seem like you two were happy and in love?”

“At first, but then we started fighting, and for a moment there, I thought, this is what I’m talking about. The insults, the blaming. I never felt more alive in my life than during that thirty-second spat, but then it was all squashed when Sanders, the therapist, said that we would be perfect for the marriage summer camp he’s putting on up in the Catskills.”

Mika is midpour of my drink when he pauses and looks up at me. “No, tell me you’re not going.”

I pop another pretzel in my mouth and say, “Oh, we’re going.”

“Fuck, seriously?”

“Uh-huh, paid for and everything. Which, by the way”—I sit taller—“not that it matters to me, but does he have money or something? Because he paid for that camp outright, called it a treat.”

A smirk crosses his lips, a very familiar one that I experienced today. “Scottie, he sold an app for a significant amount of money. He’s rich, hence the whole retirement, has-a-lot-of-time-on-his-hands kind of thing.”

“What?” I ask, shocked. “I thought he was an out-of-work actor.”

Laughing, Mika slides my drink onto the bar counter and then wipes his hand on a towel before flipping it over his shoulder. “Yeah, I don’t talk much about him or my family for that matter, other than some of the things you know. Should have informed you, especially about his current thirst for experiencing life. He heard the word ‘camp’ and you were instantly fucked.”

“Yeah, a minor detail, Mika. Jesus. You told me he was into improv, not some, I’m assuming, millionaire who is into using humans as real-life chess pieces.” I take a sip of my drink. “He picked up bug spray today. Freaking bug spray. Oh, and sandals, because apparently, he’s never worn those before.”

Mika thinks on it for a second. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in sandals.”

“I’ll take a picture for you,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “I know this is my fault. I understand that. I’m not blind to my shortcomings, but by God, how hard is it to follow instructions?”

“Did you give him instructions though?” Mika asks.

“Yes,” I shout and then think on it, because Wilder questioned the same thing. “I mean, I told him what differences we had.”

Mika lifts his brow.

“And I asked him what his pretend job would be.”

“Did you tell him that you were in there to break up?”

I tap my chin, trying to recount the moments before we went into the office for our first therapy session. It all seems like a blur now. “Uh…”

“I’m going to take that as a no.” Mika leans over and boops me on the nose with his finger. “Seems like you didn’t set the scene for him.”

I groan and rest my head on the bar counter. “I didn’t set the scene,” I mumble into the wood.

“So he was probably just going for it, feeding off the situation, and now you’re stuck going to an eight-day summer camp with him.”

I groan even louder. “Why am I like this?”

“Because you are,” Mika says. “But I love you anyway.”

I sit up and take a large gulp of my margarita. After a few seconds of silence, I say, “He likes Nerds Clusters.”

“He does.”

“I like Nerds Clusters.”

“You do.”

I look into Mika’s eyes. “He’s buying some for our trip.”

“Because that’s the kind of guy he is. He’s the most humble rich fuck you will ever meet.” Mika winks and takes off down the bar to help another customer.





Chapter Seven





WILDER

“Let me grab that for you,” I say as Scottie makes her way down her apartment steps and to the sidewalk.

“Thanks,” she says as she hands me her suitcase.

I open the gate to my Jeep and slip her bag in the back. “Do you want your backpack back here as well?”

“Sure,” she says, looking uncomfortable.

Don’t blame her. She’s about to spend eight days with a guy she doesn’t know in a cabin in the Catskills. Screams horror movie. Like everyone in the theater is telling her “No, don’t do it,” but she’s not listening and instead is taking every wrong step down the path of being murdered.

Lucky for her though, I’m not a murderer.

“What about your, uh, your purse thing?”

She glances down at what I can only describe as a cross-body fanny pack. “No, I can keep this up front.”

“Sounds good.” I shut the back of the Jeep, and I’m about to get in on my side when I notice she’s not moving.

“I thought you said there are only certain things you spend your money on.” She motions to my vehicle.