Page 99 of Cloudy With a Chance of Bad Decisions

And.

“Did you know that George?—”

By the time Georgie and I had finished prepping lunch for the following day, the bonfire had already begun. Mrs. Milton shooed us out of the kitchen. She promised to handle clean-up so long as we “had fun” and also “behaved ourselves.”

To which I replied, “How can I have fun if I’m behaving myself?”

“Aleeeex,” George whined under his breath, but Mrs. Milton just laughed,and laughed, and laughed. Like she knew something we didn’t. And then she’dwinked, and that sent us both running before our asses could get whipped by her all-knowing towel again.

I made a mental note to ask her for pictures of cheerleader George later.

I highly doubted he would be wearing a skirt.

But a man could dream.

I could hear the chatter of the group gathered at the fire pit before we reached it. Behind the main lodge, there was a large, flat dirt area. Maybe a half dozen yards wide, the space was populated by a plethora of large log benches. They sat in a haphazard circle around what had to be the largest fire pit known to man. Inside it, flames roared, the heat casting the yard in an inviting yellow-orange glow.

Even well into my adulthood, the sight of a flickering fire and s’mores could move me.

I was careful with what I ate normally, but June and I’d had multiple talks about me enjoying myself without guilt while we were here. The last thing she wanted was for me to get stuck in my own head or worry about what I looked like when I could be making memories instead. I’d promised to enjoy myself, so I fully intended to.

And if I went home a little heavier than usual, my personal trainer would simply have to deal with it.

The group of adults, and some children—already roasting marshmallows—were enjoying the bluetooth speakers Roderick and June had bought to set the mood. Something peppy and country strung through the air between the notes of laughter.

Not that I liked country.

But I could appreciate the ambiance.

“I hate country music,” Georgie sighed to himself, reminding me that he was there—not that I’d ever forgotten. That was fundamentally impossible, even distracted by the fire and the promise of treats as I was. As stupidlyromantic as it sounded, when George was nearby I couldfeelhim, even if I couldn’t see him. And when he wasn’t…I could feel that too. The absence of his presence like an open wound.

“Me too,” I agreed with a snort. “Never been a fan.”

“Blasphemy, I know. Given I’m from the country.” George perked up, looking delighted to once again find common ground. “You and your sister are very different.” It was an observation, nothing more. “I mean…she picked this, didn’t she?” George frowned. “Would you play country music at your wedding?”

“This isn’t her wedding. It’s her bonfire party,” I teased. “And no. Absolutely not.”

George was far too relieved for someone who had zero stakes in what kind of music I decided to play at my hypothetical wedding. As though he was…testing me, in a way. I’d passed, if the way he relaxed was to be believed.

“You know, this could’ve been me?” He shivered, like the idea of marrying Roderick was truly heinous. I got what he meant. I couldn’t picture that. George and Roderick together was fundamentally wrong. Just thinking about it made my skin itch, and a frankly inappropriate amount of jealousy nearly overwhelmed me.

“No,” I said softly. “You and Roderick aren’t good together.”

“Oh, I know.” George shrugged, proving he didn’t care in the slightest. “I just…when I was younger and we were dating I would’ve agreed to this. Even if I hated it. Simply because I liked him.”

“Iwould never make you get married in the middle of the woods,” I replied, my jealousy swirling tight like a noose around my heart. “You’d get somewhere fancy. No bugs. A live orchestra. Caterers. Anywhere you wanted, no budget constraints at all. It would be whatyouwanted. Not me.”

“Hmm.” George’s eyes took on a faraway sheen like he was picturing what marrying me would be like. Which was far preferable to him thinking about marryingRoderick. I grinned, proud of that particular redirection.

Good.

Imagine me in a tux, Georgie.

I would lookfantastic.

Way better than Roderick, that was for sure.

And theeeeen I felt bad. Because why the hell was I comparing myself to my future brother-in-law, anyway? He was marrying June. There was no need to be jealous that he and George may have possibly bumped uglies when they were—no, nope. Best not to think about that or I was going to go find him and punch him, man-of-honor title be damned.

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