Page 29 of The Accidental Honeymoon

“Yeah. You don’t want your skin to dry out.” He flashes me a grin. “Come here.”

He takes my hand and walks me back to WildBill’s. We head in, passing the racks of Mount Gemstone cowboy hats and souvenir painted “I Survived Mount Gemstone” rocks. Jay seems to know where he’s going, so I try to act like I don’t feel intensely weird about his hand holding mine.

“Ah! That’s what we need.” He comes to a stop way in the back of the shop, before a small wall of suntan lotion, antacids, and small plastic bandages. He plucks a small tube of intense skin barrier repair lotion. He waves it at me. “Let me see your wrist.”

“I can do it…” I say.

Jay pins me with a glance. “Give me your hand,wife.”

Ah. I can’t see the camera, but I know that it can’t be far away if Jay is calling me his wife. Keeping my face blank, I bare my wrist. He squirts a little lotion onto my skin. As he smooths it over my wrist, I can feel my cheeks heat.

Why in thefuckam I blushing? I’m not even sure. This isn’t exactly sexual. He does make eye contact with me the entire time, though.

When he finishes, he pulls my sleeve down and tucks the tube of lotion in my pocket. “There you go.”

“Thanks.” The word feels clunky rolling off my tongue.

He looks over my shoulder to Wren. “Will you pay for the lotion? We need to get moving.”

Wren nods, brandishing a credit card. “On it.”

Before I can say anything, Jay grabs my hand again. "Come on. We have to ride the rides!"

He’s like an overgrown kid, eyes sparkling with excitement. I let him pull me along and he weaves us through the park’s twists and turns like he does this all the time. The cameras are still on us. But for a moment? I forget to care.

Jay drags me to the Haunted Train Ride first. The exterior is all gothic spires and cobwebs. A giant, grinning skull perches atop the entrance like a macabre cherry.

“Oh god.” I wrinkle my nose. I don’t like anything scary, even things that are more tacky than terrifying. Why would I pay money for someone to make me feel frightened?

"We have to," Jay insists. "It’s tradition."

I don’t bother complaining that it may be his tradition, but it isn’t mine. Instead, I let him pull me into the short line. A wooden sign creaks in the breeze, proclaiming a wait time of five minutes. The paint is so faded it looks like it’s been gnawed on by termites.

We board a rickety train car, the kind that runs on a track set into the floor. It lurches forward with a groan. My heartbeat immediately picks up as we plunge into darkness. I brace myself for the first jump scare. I’m clutching the side of the car so hard my fingers hurt, and my knuckles must be white.

I’ve only been on this train once. I tried it when I went to camp here, fifteen or so years ago, and was so scared that I never tried it again. I’m expecting much of the same experience.

But Jay slides his arm around my shoulders and tugs me close. I focus on his nearness, his warmth, his muscular thigh pressed against mine. Leaning into the embrace, I pretend I’m just acting scared.

Jay squeezes my shoulders.I can do this,I think. It’s not that bad when I’m not alone.

Then the ride ends up being... underwhelming, if I’m honest. Animatronic skeletons creak and sway like retirees at a zombie-themed bingo night. Ghostly figures on wires descend from the ceiling, moving with all the urgency of a Monday morning commute. The whole thing is more corny than scary. It reminds me of a haunted house that my elderly next door neighbors put together every year when I was a kid.

Well-meaning, but completely toothless. Just the way I like it.

I see the red glow of a camera and remember why we’re here. "Aaaaaah!" I scream, as unconvincingly as a bad soap opera actress.

A vampire pops out of a coffin, but its cape catches on a nail. The fabric tears with a pitiful rip. The next thing I know, the vampire’s head lolls to one side. Its eyes are half-closed in eternal, animatronic boredom. Jay loses it, his laughter echoing through the ride like deranged hyena calls. He’shyperventilating.

"Shhh," I whisper, squeezing his knee. But I’m giggling too. The sheer ridiculousness of it all is contagious.

We round a corner. We can’t even manage to feign surprise when a ghost on a stick slowly wobbles into view.

"Boo," it says, in a voice as flat as week-old soda. "Boo... boo... boo..." It’s stuck on a loop. The monotone "boos" stack up like a pile of unwanted Christmas presents.

I burst out laughing again, the sound explosive as my whoops echo in the confined space. Jay wipes a tear from his eye and points at the ghost. "I might die of fright," he howls.

The train car jerks to a stop at the end. We clamber out of the vehicle and are momentarily blinded by sunlight as we exit the ride. I’m still laughing, dragging in gulps of air. It feels strange but good. Stretching a muscle I’d forgotten I had.

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