Page 62 of The Accidental Honeymoon

“I just don’t get why she’s angry at me.”

“Sometimes it’s easier to be mad at someone else than to deal with what’s really bothering you. And maybe it’s not about you at all.”

I see the concern in her hazel eyes. She’s probably right. She usually is. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

After the floats, there are costumed groups to contend with. The Snuggie Squad marches by first. A phalanx of people in matching Snuggies marches by holding remote controls and oversized popcorn buckets. They wave lazily. The crowd responds with half-hearted cheer.

Next come the Sleeping Beauties. They’re dressed in pajamas and sleep masks, with intentionally messy bedheads. They carry pillows and blankets. Some of them yawn and stretch as they walk.

Calla tugs on my hand. “I’m hungry.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea.” I give her a mischievous smile. “The food booths here are amazing. Come on.”

Calla and I stroll through the gaps in the parade. We weave between clusters of people in costume, eventually catching up with Ryan, Bennett, and Wren. They’re standing in line for a food truck.

Ryan is poking fun at Wren for something. She fidgets with her glasses, looking anywhere but at him. I brace myself for another explosion, but she just mutters something and shrugs. Ryan lets it drop.

“Hey, remember the time Jay tried to start a food truck?” Bennett’s eyes light up with mischief as he catches sight of me.

I groan. “Oh, come on. Not this again.”

Calla looks at me, curious. “You had a food truck?”

Ryan laughs. “’Had’ is a strong word. He rented one for a week, thinking he could make a killing selling goji berry smoothies.”

“Goji berries are good for you.” I sound defensive.

Bennett smirks. “But they taste terrible. That’s okay, though, because in order to find out how bad they taste, someone would have had to actually buy one from you. You sold this many.” He makes a zero with his hand and holds it up to his face.

“They weren’t that terrible. Just verrrry sour. I figured I could just skip adding sweetener and I’d be fine.”

Bennett grins and jabs his thumb at me. “This guy, am I right?”

I can see Calla trying to picture me as a failed food truck entrepreneur. She’s probably wondering why I never mentioned it. The truth is, it’s one of those stories that’s more painful than funny. At least for me.

“So, what happened?” Calla tilts her head.

Ryan grins. “One guy tried a sample and spat it out. It was all downhill from there.”

Calla laughs softly. It’s sympathetic. I can tell she’s holding back, trying to gauge how I feel about the whole thing. It’s weirdly comforting.

We order some snacks. Nachos, corndogs, and something called a “deep-fried couch cushion” that turns out to be a massive, pillow-like piece of dough filled with cheese and bacon. We find a spot on the grass and sit down, forming a loose circle.

As the banter continues, I notice that Calla is fitting right in. She rolls with the punches, even throwing a few jabs of her own. When Ryan and Bennett gang up on me, she doesn’t pile on. Instead, she watches. She’s learning our dynamics and our history.

“Remember when Jay tried to run a marathon without training?” Ryan’s grin says he’s winding up for a punchline.

“Oh god.” I cover my face with my hands. “Please, no.”

Bennett takes over. “He made it to mile five and called us to pick him up. He was crying like a baby.”

“I was not crying.” I sit up straighter. “I was sweating from my eyes.”

Calla looks at me, then at Ryan and Bennett. “You guys are really mean to my husband.” Her voice has a playful edge. “I hope you realize that.”

Ryan waves it off. “It’s all in good fun. Jay knows we would walk through fire for him.”

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