Page 57 of The Accidental Honeymoon

I follow his gaze to a new diorama and my jaw drops in disbelief. It’s a scene straight out of Victorian England, but with squirrels. They’re dressed in tiny waistcoats and bonnets and posed around a miniature parlor holding teacups and saucers. One even has a monocle.

Jay nudges me gently. "Check out Lord Squirrelington and Lady Acorn. Pure class."

My laugh starts as a small chuckle, then grows into something fuller, more genuine. The scene is just so over-the-top, so ridiculously detailed. "This is amazing. They look like characters from a squirrel Dickens novel."

"Great Expectations." Jay adopts a posh British accent. "Or perhaps A Tale of Two Nutters."

I wipe a tear from the corner of my eye. "You missed your calling as a pun writer."

He shrugs modestly. "I dabble."

We stand there for a moment, just taking it in. The squirrels are frozen mid-gesture. Their tiny hands and elongated faces are filled with an exaggerated sense of propriety. It’s like a snapshot of a rodent soap opera.

"I wonder how long it took them to sew those outfits."My voice drops, more thoughtful now. "There’s a lot of craftsmanship here."

Jay’s shoulder brushes mine. "You sound almost impressed."

"I am." I nod, conceding the point. "It’s like a labor of love. You can tell they really cared about getting it right."

"It’s nice to see you appreciating the work that goes into something.” I can feel his eyes searching mine. “Even if it is a bunch of stuffed animals."

I turn back to the diorama, not sure how to respond. He’s right, of course. I do appreciate the effort, the attention to detail. It reminds me of the care I put into planning a wedding. How every little piece has to fit together perfectly.

"Calla." Jay’s voice softens, and I brace myself for whatever serious thing he’s about to say. "If we were squirrels, which one do you think you’d be?"

I blink, momentarily caught off guard, but quickly scan the scene with new purpose. "There,” I say. “I’d be the one in the corner, making a checklist for the weekly nut inventory."

He laughs warmly. "Of course you would. And I’d be the one throwing a nutty party and inviting the whole forest."

I imagine that for a moment. Jay as a carefree squirrel, dancing on a tree branch, while I sit below with my clipboard, trying to keep everything in order. It’s a silly thought, but it makes me smile.

"You know," I point out, "squirrels have a pretty tough life. They’re always preparing for winter, always storing up nuts and hoping they don’t starve."

Jay tilts his head, considering this. "Yeah, but they also get to run around in the trees and have nutty adventures. It’s all about balance."

"Balance." The word lingers in my mind. He’s always talking about that. Balancing work and life, balancing the needs of his brand with his personal desires. It’s something I’ve never been good at. For me, it’s always been about control, about making sure everything is just so.

We fall silent again, but it’s not uncomfortable. I understand him a little better, I think. Or maybe I’m just letting myself see what’s been there all along.

"Ready to move on?" His voice breaks the quiet.

I take one last look at the Victorian squirrel scene. Their tiny, intricate costumes and absurdly dignified expressions feel like a reminder of the care and humor that life can hold, even in the strangest places. "Yeah." My voice is lighter as I squeeze his hand. "Let’s see what else they’ve got."

We wander through the rest of the dioramas, giggling and joking the whole time. At the end of the cave tour, Jay and I start walking back toward the cave entrance. He’s still holding my hand, and I let him. It makes me feel like a schoolgirl. He glances at me, a smile tugging at his lips.

“I really enjoyed seeing you relax and have fun." His tone is casual but sincere.

Part of me is flattered. The other part is wary. Letting my guard down like this is dangerous. If I start to like him, really like him, what’s to stop me from falling for him? And then what? Eventually, we’ll get divorced. This whole thing is temporary. Isn’t it better to keep some distance between us?

"I had a good time." I choose my words carefully. "It was nice to do something silly."

We walk in silence for a few moments. The gears in my mind grind, trying to make sense of the conflicting emotions swirling inside me. I glance at Jay, who’s lookingstraight ahead, his expression unreadable. Does he feel the same tension, the same pull?

We reach the gift shop, a small, brightly lit area near the cave entrance. Shelves are lined with souvenirs. Keychains, T-shirts, and an array of stuffed animals, all with the same wide-eyed, lifelike expressions as the dioramas. Jay lets go of my hand and starts browsing one of the shelves. I take a moment to collect myself and push down the rising tide of feelings that threaten to overwhelm me.Distance,I remind myself.I need to keep some distance.

Something on the shelves catches my attention. It’s a small stuffed chipmunk with huge, soulful eyes. Its tiny hands are clasped together as if they were in prayer. There’s something endearingly pathetic about it, like a character from a children’s book who’s just lost its acorn.

I pick it up gently, cradling it in my hands. "If I had a familiar, it would be this squirrel." I show it to Jay. "Look at those eyes. It’s like it’s saying, ‘Why me?’"

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