Till Summer Do Us Part(46)

Very, very normal.

It almost makes me feel uneasy.

“Welcome to the office.”

“This is your office?” Wilder asks, taking it in as well. “I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“Well, it’s not as fun to be in as my other one in the city, but I tend to not want to have distractions when we’re in this room. The conversations we share in here are more intimate, tougher. Couples need a space to be our honest selves, and I find with minimal decorating, we can have those honest conversations.”

“Makes sense,” Wilder says.

“Please, take a seat on the couch.”

Wilder and I both take a seat and get comfortable. Wilder drapes his arm over the back of the couch, while I cross one of my legs over the other. When we’re situated, Sanders sits himself in the chair across from us and then leans forward.

“How are you feeling so far?”

Well, here we go, a true and honest therapy session.

“Great,” I say with a smile. “Really great. It’s been a fun experience so far, and the cabin—”

“Why are you lying?” Wilder asks, surprising me.

“Wh-what?” I ask, talking through my smile as I turn to face him. I attempt to speak through my eyes, saying, What the hell are you doing right now? Remember what we talked about?

“Why are you lying to him right now?” Wilder gestures toward Sanders. “Everything is not great.”

“I was just—”

“No, enough with the lies,” Wilder says in a frustrated tone, jumping right into conflict. I’m…I’m not prepared. “We’re here to fix things, so let’s be honest with ourselves and with Sanders.”

“Thank you,” Sanders says while clapping. Oh brother. “I know that must have been hard on you, Wilder, but I appreciate the honesty.”

No, not this again.

Not this bromance in a therapy session all over again.

I don’t think I could take it.

“Well, if we’re going to do this, then we need to do it right,” Wilder says, a challenge in his eyes.

And I can see it, that spark, that intrigue. For him, this is fun. This is what he’s looking for in his life. And if that’s what he wants, then fine… I can play this game too. I don’t have to sit back and be embarrassed. If he wants to have a life experience, then by all means, Wilder, let’s play.

“He’s right.” I lean back on the couch and relax my body, shaking my limbs out. “I’m sorry. I was trying to put on a good face, but he’s very, very right. I’m lying. Nothing is great about being here, other than the cheese Danish I had this morning.”

“And why is it not great?” Sanders asks, not a ball in sight, no hockey stick to be seen. And apart from the pajama pants, this feels like we’re seeing the true therapist, which seems odd. Don’t you think you’d want to show this side of yourself on the first therapy appointment? Or is that just me?

Then again, nothing about his practice is conventional, so not surprised that he’s switching tactics.

“Well, you know, we’re in a rough patch right now, and staying in the cabin that we’re staying in is just a reminder of everything we’re not…participating in.”

Sanders nods knowingly. “I see. You’re in the red square cabin, correct?”

“Yes,” I answer.

“That’s the one you chose.”

Um, what?

“Chose?” I ask.

“Yes,” Sanders says, looking confused. “It was the one chosen in your application.”

Wilder filled out the application.

“Are there different cabins?” I ask.

“Oh yes, they’re all themed to the couples’ preferences. On the application, when asked about your sex life, you marked ‘thriving’ and ‘adventurous,’ so the staff thought it was appropriate to put you in the red square cabin.”

I shoot a look at Wilder, who has a guilty expression. Smiling, I say, “Um, Sanders. Would I be able to have one moment alone with my husband?”

He looks between us and says, “Normally, I’d say whatever you need to say to each other should be said in front of me, but I can see that maybe something needs to be discussed here without a witness, and because of the fragility of your marriage, I think I’m going to give you a quick five.” He walks out on the balcony and shuts the sliding glass door.

I turn to Wilder, and in a scary whisper, I say, “You said our sex life was thriving and adventurous?”

He starts chuckling, his smile stretching across his cheeks. “Holy shit, is that why they put us in that bedroom?”

“Uh, duh, you idiot! The reason handcuffs kept rattling against the bedpost last night was because of you.”

“You know, that’s really funny actually. Makes me wonder what the other cabins are like.”

“Probably normal. They probably don’t have a giant flesh dildo attached to the tile of their shower.” I press my hand to my forehead. “Oh God, what my coworkers must think of me. They must have noticed we were in that cabin and said—”

“Scottie must have such an active sex life.”

“Noooo,” I drag out. “They probably thought I was a sex fiend and that’s why our marriage wasn’t working, because I wanted to be surrounded by plastic, jiggly prosthetics rather than the jiggly shaft in my husband’s pants.”