Page 33 of The Marriage Game

“Is that where we’ll be staying?” Jill asks as Dorothy picks up her pace, speed marching toward the cabins. I increase my own speed, unsure why I’m even following this rather quirky woman in the first place, but too much of a rule follower to stop now.

“It is where you’ll be staying. Unfortunately there weren’t enough cabins for all of the couples at this retreat to stay in,” Dorothy stops humming to tell us. “But I had the foresight to reserve one extra cabin for cases such as yours. It’s all the way in the back.”

Cases such as ours? Immediately I bristle.

“Our marriage is not a special case.” Jill voices exactly what I’m thinking.

“Whatever you say,” Dorothy hums.

“My wife is right,” I announce in a clipped tone. “You do know we’ve been married almost twenty years, right? I think we’ve got a thing or two figured out about marriage.”

“I’m sure you do,” Dorothy agrees kindly as we reach the first row of cabins. She leads us down a gravel-lined path that runs down the center of the cabins. “But you know, all marriages need help every now and again. Twenty years is a lot of life to live together. It’s natural that there will be highs and lows during that time, but wouldn’t you prefer the highs to outweigh thelows?” Before Jill or I can reply, she comes to a stop and turns to face us. “Ah, there it is,” she gestures behind us and Jill and I both look past her to where a solitary cabin sits, set back from the others by another fifty yards. “Quaint isn’t it?” Dorothy says with evident pleasure.

“Why is it so far away from the other cabins?” I ask.

“Sadly there was a fire a year ago. It burned down the other cabins in that section. That one was the only one left standing. It’s a fighter,” she says with a wink. “Makes it an appropriate choice for the two of you,” she adds. “I sense that you two are also fighters. Come on then.” Dorothy beckons us forward, then sets off again marching toward the lone cabin. Jill and I exchange an apprehensive look, our ire with one another temporarily forgotten, then we both carry on after her.

Chapter 12

Jill

AssoonasDorothyreaches the cabin door she turns around and gives us what can only be described as a triumphantly mischievous smirk. “Here it is, your home for the next few days.” She reaches into her pocket, a key dangling in her hand as it reemerges. “Your key,” she proffers it to us.

“Wait, wait, wait,” I say, feeling as if we’re about to walk into a trap. “I don’t get it.”

“Get what, dear?”

“Um, this.” I move my hands over the cabin. “What’s your plan here? You think if you stick us in this secluded cabin together we’ll somehow come out a happy couple. Not that we aren’t a happy couple,” I add hastily.

“You say secluded, I say romantic,” Dorothy replies cheerily. “Something any couple would enjoy. Go inside, you’ll see. There’s a cozy fireplace, a tub with room for two, and I hear the view out the back window is absolutely stunning. I think there might be a bottle of complimentary champagne in there.”

Champagne? A cozy fireplace? A tub with room for two? Talk about the perfect setting for a romantic night. A romance author couldn’t dream up a more perfect setting for their two main characters.

Too bad I don’t want to have a romantic night with Max right now. I’m too mad at him. Which is why this whole set up of Dorothy’s is a bad idea. The two of usaren’tcharacters in a romance novel, so enough of this whole charade.

A new thought occurs to me—Dorothy may not be a romance author, but both Hannah and Will mentioned books she and Mick had written and the crazy stories they contained about couples whose marriages they’d fixed. Are Max and I their new test subjects? The headliners for their next book?

“Let me guess,” I say tersely, rational thought having abandoned me as my annoyance with being reduced to some sort of case study erupts out of me, “there’s only one bed in there too.”

“Of course there’s only one bed!” She has the audacity to laugh. “Though truthfully, I detest the one bed trope.” She wrinkles her nose. “What kind of a message is it sending to young people? It’s not doing women any favors to perpetuate the idea that two people who harbor an attraction to one another can simply be in bed together without experiencing or even giving into the temptation to have sex. However, the two of you are married. Your lifeisthe one bed trope. At least I assume the two of you still share a bed.” She gives us an appraising look, and I get the discomfiting sense that she can somehow tell we’re not having sex very regularly.

“Our sex life is none of your business,” I reply coolly, then cringe because she didn’t actually say anything about our sex life. At least not specifically. Once again, she somehow managed to make me accidentally voice my inner thoughts. She’s like some sort of thought sucker outer. The human version of thatgross suction bulb I used to use on the kids when they were babies to get the snot out of their noses only with thoughts and emotions. She’s suctioning my thoughts out of my mouth.

And I’m just as affronted about it as my kids used to be with regards to their snot.

“No, it’s not,” Dorothy agrees, playing the picture of innocence. I’m not fooled. “Furthermore, a good marriage isn’t simply about sex, is it? Although, I’m sure Max would agree with my husband who is forever saying that sex covers a multitude of sins.” She lets out a tinkly laugh that neither Max or I join in with. I’m distinctively uncomfortable right now. Not to mention, defensiveness is rising up inside me, leaving my skin itchy and too tight. But when I look over at Max to see if he agrees with me instead, I find him nodding along as if he actually agrees with what she’s saying.

“Really, Max?” I hiss.

He shrugs. “What? I like sex, okay? Is that really so surprising?”

A flush rises up my neck. “What are you saying—that if I’d simply had sex with you earlier you’d have forgiven me for the whole sabotage thing?”

“Well, no,” Max relents, but then adds, “but it sure would’ve taken the edge off my anger.” With that said he grabs hold of the door handle and walks into the cabin, leaving me standing there alone with Dorothy.

The woman who caused all of this.

Sort of.

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