Page 64 of The Accidental Honeymoon

My mouth twists. I’m trying this new positive outlook thing. Just experimenting with it, seeing if being upbeat always feels as good as it did at the Waffle House Museum.

So far, it’s been… okay. Baby steps, you know?

But Jay is putting my new perspective to the test before my feet even touch the floor this morning.

"It’ll be fun,” he presses. “You’ll get some fresh air. Clear your head. Trust me."

Trust him. That’s the crux of all this, isn’t it? I bite my lip and weigh my options. "I don’t have the right gear."

I hope this will be the out I need, but Jay waves a dismissive hand. "I’ve got plenty. Sponsors send me more stuff than I can use. Come on. I’ll show you."

“Give me twenty minutes. I need to get dressed and brush my teeth.” I can’t think of anything good right now. So I just focus on not thinking anything bad.

What is that, a quarter of a baby step?

When I am dressed and relatively clean, I force myself to go find Jay. He is in the kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee for me. I open my mouth to ask where I can get sugar, but he beats me to the punch and pulls a bottle from the fridge. “I got this special for you. Can’t have you telling people that I deprived you of your morning brew.”

He tosses it to me. It’s marshmallow-flavored coffee creamer. A smile spreads across my face without me realizing it. “For me?” I open it and pour a healthy slug into my coffee mug. “Thanks, Jay. I’m touched.”

The fact that he put something marshmallow-flavored in his refrigerator full of kombucha and carrot sticks means that he thought about whatIwould like. He wants to makemecomfortable.

Jay brushes it off like it’s nothing. “Drink up. We should get moving.”

He leads me to a small storage room that looks like a sporting goods store exploded. Shelves and bins overflow with jackets, boots, and backpacks. All kinds of gear are inhere, everything shiny and new, like it’s waiting to be photographed for a catalog.

He rummages through a pile and pulls out several pairs of hiking boots. "What size are you?"

"Eight." I’m still in shock at the sheer volume of stuff.

He tosses me a pair of boots and I catch them awkwardly. "Try those on. Here are some thick socks too. They should help the boots fit."

I sit on a nearby bench and slip my feet into the rugged, leather monstrosities. They’re surprisingly comfortable.

"Why do you have so much stuff?" I ask. The curiosity is genuine.

He shrugs. "Perks of the job. Companies want me to use their products in my videos. It’s all about brand alignment."

I stand and take a tentative step. Then another. The boots feel solid, like they could conquer a small mountain, or at least a steep hill. "Don’t you ever feel... I don’t know, weighed down by all this?"

Jay looks at me. For a moment, I see something in his eyes. A flicker of uncertainty. Maybe even longing. But it’s gone as quickly as it appeared. His confident demeanor returns. "It comes with the territory. Here." He hands me a jacket. "You’ll need this too. The weather can change fast up there."

I take the jacket. It’s a sleek, high-tech thing that looks like it could survive a hurricane. "Thanks."

I mean it. This stuff isn’t cheap. Neither is his time.

"No problem." There’s a softness in his voice that makes me think he understands my hesitation. "Calla, this will be great. We’ll take it slow. I promise."

I nod and clutch the jacket to my chest. "Okay. Let’s do this."

The trailhead is more crowded than I’d expected for aSunday morning. Young families with strollers, retirees with walking sticks, and an alarming number of people in neon spandex mill about. Everyone is stretching and hydrating. I tug at the collar of my borrowed jacket. Already, I feel out of place and overheated.

“Don’t worry,” Jay whispers. “The rest of these newbies follow the marked trail. We’re going to branch off after a bit. That way we can hear each other talk without a bunch of Joe-shmoes hot on our heels.”

“It’s funny that you think I’ll be able to talk and hike at the same time.”

He wiggles his eyebrows. “I keep telling you. We’ll go at a snail’s pace if you want. Honest.”

Jay looks perfectly at ease, like he’s stepped out of one of his own promotional videos. He wears a fitted fleece and cargo pants. Adjusting the straps on his backpack, he glances at me. "Ready?" he asks, as if this is the most natural thing in the world.

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