Page 98 of The Accidental Honeymoon

I give him a tight, forced smile and an eye roll for good measure. The tagline makes me wonder if the health department has ever paid a visit. If so, how many violations did they find per square inch? I bet a lot.

He notices my lack of enthusiasm and his grin falters. "What’s wrong?"

"Nothing," I say, too quickly. "Just having a bad day."

It’s a lie, of course. It’s this situation that’s bad: the fauxmarriage, the playing pretend, the sinking feeling that I’m in way over my head.

But I’m not about to unload all that on him. We have a job to do.

"Calla," he starts, but I cut him off with a smile.

"Let’s just get this over with. I really can’t be late for my meeting."

Jay’s eyes narrow ever so slightly on my face. Then he seems to make a decision and holds up his hands in surrender. "Okay, let’s set up. How about over there?"

We move to a booth in the corner of the café where a display case full of souvenir T-shirts and keychains creates a gaudy backdrop. Jay pulls a small tripod and camera from his bag, then starts fiddling with the settings. I glance at the menu, which is printed on a piece of plywood. Items like "Smeared Deer Quesadilla" and "Flattened Feline Frittata" jump out at me. I suppress a shudder.

"Here," Jay says, tossing something at me. I catch it reflexively and find it’s a T-shirt with the café’s logo of a cartoon skunk with tire tracks across its back. "It’ll make the video more fun."

I hesitate, then shrug and slip the shirt on over my top. It’s scratchy and smells like a combination of gift shop and fryer grease.Funis not the word I’d use.

Jay positions the camera and takes a test shot. "Ready?" he asks. I nod, though I’m anything but. "Hey everyone, it’s Jay from Alto & Ash," he says. He slides into his spiel with the practiced ease of a news anchor. "I’m here at the Roadkill Café with my lovely wife, Calla. Say hi, honey!"

I flinch at the word "wife" but manage to wave at the camera. “Hi honey!”

Jay puts an arm around my shoulders. I go rigid as one of the taxidermied animals behind me.

"We’re sampling some of the local cuisine and checking out the awesome gift shop. If you’re ever in town, this place is a must-visit. Right, Calla?"

I press my lips together and then force a smile. Jay pulls me closer and I can’t figure out where to put my hands. Simultaneously, I want to drag his mouth to mine and somehow not ever touch him again. It’s perplexing.

My voice is stiff when I say, “It sure is unique. I can say with confidence that I’ve never been somewhere quite like this."

He pauses the recording and looks at me. "Calla, come on. You have to act a little. We have to make this road trip stop believable."

"Believable?" I snap. My frustration starts to bubble over. "Maybe it would be more believable if we weren’t faking the whole thing."

"Faking?" He sounds genuinely hurt.

For a moment I feel bad. But only for a moment.

"This? The happy couple routine. The marriage. It’s all just for show, Jay. Don’t act like it’s become real all of a sudden."

His calm facade cracks. "I know it’s not real, Calla,” he snaps. “But we agreed to this. I’m just trying to make it work."

"It feels like I’m the one making all the sacrifices here. It feels like I’m the one making all of the risks and saying all the I love yous."

He studies me for a moment. "I thought this was a partnership. I didn’t realize you saw it as a one-sided deal."

A nearby customer gives us a curious glance while crunching down on what I hope is beef jerky and not raccoon. The absurdity of the situation hits me all at once. We’re two supposed lovebirds having a meltdown in arestaurant dedicated to squashed animals. It’s like a scene from a bad reality show. Half of me expects a crew to burst in and tell us we’ve been punked.

Or maybe flattened? Whatever the term would be at a place that worships roadkill.

I let out a short, bitter laugh. Jay looks at me, confused, then around the café as if searching for the punchline.

"This is so ridiculous.” My anger can’t stand up to the absurdity of this situation. I sigh. “Let’s finish this. I’ll try harder."

Jay nods, but there’s a new wariness in his eyes, like a man who’s just seen the fault lines beneath his feet. He turns back to the camera. I adjust the scratchy T-shirt, trying to smooth out the wrinkles.

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