Till Summer Do Us Part(68)

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.





Chapter Seventeen





WILDER

“Does anyone care to explain to me what happened?” Sanders asks as he sits on the top of his chair with a tennis racket and tennis ball, bouncing it annoyingly.

I’m not in the fucking mood to watch this man toss a ball around and ask us about our feelings.

Nope, I had the worst night’s sleep I’ve had in a while.

I haven’t spoken but two words to Scottie all morning.

And even when we were on a morning reflection hike with the group, we kept our distance. And everyone felt it. Even Chad, who tried to strike up a conversation with me, but I ignored him and moved toward the front of the group, nearly leading the hike on my own.

I embarrassed her.

Me.

I was the one sticking up for her. I noticed the mob mentality, and I was not putting up with it. Yet I’m the one who got in trouble.

Unbelievable.

“So is no one going to speak?”

Scottie has her arms crossed, sitting on the very edge of the couch, not even attempting to look at me.

Jesus, she wasn’t this mad after the s’mores incident. I’m simply lost as to how it went so downhill after I asked my question about defending her coworkers. But I’m not sorry for what I did, and I’d do it over again. I’d make sure that no one even considers attacking her.

“Okay, I see how this is going to go.” Sanders walks over to a hockey stick positioned against a poster of LeBron James. When was that hung up? I swear with each day that we’re here, this becomes more and more like a man cave.

He brings the hockey stick over to us and says, “Whoever is holding this stick must speak. You can’t transfer it to the next person without speaking. So, Scottie, since you’re practically crawling out of here with every inch you’ve made toward the door, let’s start with you.” He hands her the stick and says, “Why are you mad?”

She takes the stick and answers, “I’m not mad. I just don’t want to be around him.”

Then she tosses the stick in my direction, and I luckily catch it before it nails me in the head. “I don’t want to be around her either.”