Page 2 of Red, White, and You

The tug in my chest is hard to ignore, annoying as it is.

I stand and pace the office. Why am I struggling with this decision? It’s beyond simple; I’ve already decided not to go.

But the packed duffel bag beside my desk tells me that, for an hour before bed last night, and somehow still into this morning, I convinced myself I should take off a week from work and go have fun. I even reached out to my assistant and asked her to help me gather and pack what I might need.

A few glasses of pinot noir and I was ready todrop everything and… what,go play?

“Good grief,” I say under my breath.

Plopping back down into my leather chair, I slide the flier back to me and stare at the colorful image of grown women playing in the mud. Of all the ridiculous notions.Mud?

There’s a light knock at my door. I look up as Christina opens it and pops her head in before I can even respond, then steps inside, a frown pulling her eyebrows down. “What are you doing here, Brie?”

Pursing my lips, I motion to the paperwork on my desk.

“I thought you left the office hours ago.”

I give her a dramatic eye roll and click the mouse to look like I’m working, not talking myself into—orout of—this trip.

My senior partner huffs. “You’re not talking yourself out of this. Andi spent the whole morning shopping for you.”

Right. Shopping for hiking gear and bug spray, things I will never use again. Our poor executive assistant has been off wasting time and money instead of tending to the responsibilities we pay her to manage.

See? Proof that this whole thing is silly.

“Comeon.” I groan as I open the brochure and stab at a picture in the center of the tri-fold. “Can you even picture me on an inflatable water slide in the middle of a lake?”

She tilts her head, pursing her lips as she considers the question, then finally says, “No, but—”

“Exactly my point. I don’t belong in a forest. With trees and dirt and bugs and… people.” I shiver dramatically.

She laughs, but quickly covers her mouth. “When is the last time you took a vacation, Brie?”

“Vacation, Chris? Really?Vacationsare in Mykonos or Mo’orea—”

“You’re going. You know I can handle things while you’re gone.” She crosses her arms. “If you stay, you’ll only offend me and hurt my feelings.”

My eyebrows make a slow ascent up my forehead. “You’d have tohavefeelings in order for me to hurt them…”

She flashes a wicked grin and her dark eyes disappear briefly with the movement. “Touché. But that’s why I’m good at my job. And why you can absolutely, without a shadow of a doubt, trust me to run things while you’re gone.” She picks up the duffel bag and holds it out to me. “Come on. It’s time. Chop chop.”

“You’re being rather pushy. Was it you?” I narrow my eyes, watching my partner for any hint that she’s behind this. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

Christina scoffs. “Please. I’d at least have the decency to send you to Mykonos or Mo’orea.”

I laugh, but the sound fades quickly as I realize I’ve risen to my feet and walked around the desk to stand before her. Am I really doing this? I can’t say my curiosity isn’t piqued, try as I might to convince myself otherwise. But I can’t ignore the burning question in my mind.

Make thattwoburning questions in my mind.

The first: what would it be like to be a kid again?

To play games and… roast marshmallows?

I grimace. Sounds sticky and…. like a stomachache waiting to happen.

So, no marshmallows.

Would I even know how to relax enough to enjoy it all? Not the s’mores, obviously, but all the other stuff? I can’t remember the last time I relaxed, in the true sense of the word. Sure, I have a glass or two of wine after work, curled up in my pajamas on the couch as I scan the latest law journal, but even I have to admit that this unwinding ritual of mine feels more likeroutinethanrelaxationat this point.

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