“What’s going on?” I asked. “Did Sadie invite a bunch of Boy Scouts?”
Troy and one of his assistants （Anton? Antoine? I couldn’t remember） stopped in front of us. “We’re glamping,” Troy announced. Glamping? Wasn’t that just camping’s older sister who wore too much makeup? “Hand over your keycards.”
“Is this some kind of swingers thing?” Krista asked with a teasing lilt in her voice. “Because Rachel is not going to be okay with that.”
“Why do you need our keycards?” I asked.
I watched as Krista handed hers over. Troy said her name to his assistant, whom he definitely referred to as Anton, and Anton flipped through a giant album and placed Krista’s key in a pocket next to her name.
No wonder I’d had to make lei. This level of conspiracy to keep me from getting a good night’s sleep had to have taken hours.
Troy tapped his foot impatiently at me. “I need your keys because Sadie doesn’t trust you guys and doesn’t want you to go sneaking off back to your rooms. We’re sleeping out here tonight.”
“Gee, why would anyone do that?” I would much rather go back to my king-size bed than be stuck sleeping on the ground. I’d never understood the appeal of camping. Or glamping. Whatever this nonsense was.
“Key,” Troy said, holding out his hand. I took in a deep breath. He could find me new clients. This was not a hill to die on. I dug through my purse and found my keycard, giving it to him.
“Thank you,” he said, his tone clipped. I guessed I wasn’t the first person to give him grief. “Your tents are over there. Go and get changed and then meet me and the rest of the wedding party by the campfire.”
“Changed?” Krista asked me. “This involves an outfit switch?”
I had no idea and shrugged as she and I walked to the tents Troy had indicated. My and Sadie’s names were written on a tag, hanging on the tent to the right. Krista’s name was on the left. She opened the flap. “Mary-Ellen! Looks like we’re camping buddies,” she said, in a tone of fake enthusiasm that only I would recognize.
It would be nice to be alone with Sadie. To check in with her, see how she was holding up, what she needed from me. To make sure that me telling Camden about the spy thing wasn’t going to be an issue. That she was happy with how her mother was behaving.
Two cots with white sheets and blankets were set up in the tent. Small collapsible canvas totes sat at the foot of the cots, and I assumed that was where we were supposed to store our things. The tent was tall enough to stand in, and there were white Christmas lights strung around the interior. Above the two cots hung mosquito netting. Which seemed odd, because I was usually a magnet for mosquitoes and hadn’t gotten a single bite yet.
On each cot there was a pair of pajamas. Button-down tops with drawstring bottoms. They were pale pink and the wedding’s hashtags were written on them—#DanAndSadie and #SadieMarriedLady. There were also a pair of slippers and a note from the different sponsors who had provided the tents, cots, and clothing. I claimed the cot on the left and changed quickly, stowing my dress, sandals, and purse in the tote.
It was then that I noticed something on our pillows. Chocolate chip cookies inside plastic baggies. My stomach grumbled appreciatively and I devoured both of the cookies in record time. So, so good. I should probably go find something else to eat that had actual nutritional value.
I stepped out of my tent and found Krista waiting for me in her pajamas. “I thought we could head over together.” There was a strained quality to her voice and I could hear Mary-Ellen singing off-key in their shared tent. I did not envy my friend.
“Come on, Mary-Ellen, let’s get a move on!” she called out. Krista linked her arm through mine and I asked if she’d eaten her cookies. “Obviously.”
“Do you think they were made here at the hotel, and if so, do you think we could get more?” I asked as we walked up to the campfire. Not exactly healthy, but maybe I’d throw in an apple or something.
Mary-Ellen was right behind us as we approached the campfire and found Sadie, Dan, and all of his groomsmen. The men’s pajamas were white and I couldn’t figure out who had thought that was a good color for camping.
Camden gave me a playful smile when we approached.
Krista let out a low whistle. “Do you see how he’s looking at you? That boy has impure thoughts about you.”
I shouldn’t want that to be true.
She nudged me with her arm. “Don’t bother denying that you think about him, too. It’s pretty obvious he’s living rent-free in your head. Because he has squatter’s rights at this point.”