Page 57 of The Weekend Crashers
“No camping?” Maggie is surprised by how disappointed she feels. It would have been fun—and Piper seemed so enthusiastic about the idea. It was so unlike her to suggest it in the first place.
“Well, I’m still going with the rest of the guys. But without Cole, I figure Piper won’t be interested, and without Piper, you won’t want to go. And I get it. The whole plan sort of loses its symmetry.”
“Maybe it’s not as bad as you think,” she says hopefully. “He might just need a reset.”
Aidan shakes his head. “I know Cole. He’s stubborn.”
“You know what? I’m still up for the campout. I’m sure Piper is too.” She’s sure of no such thing, but it was Piper’s idea. “Maybe if we stick with the plan, Cole will come around.”
Aidan considers this. “You could be right. That’s not a bad idea.”
She nods. “Absolutely. We need to set a good example. A plan is a plan.” Just like Piper said at breakfast. How could she argue with that?
He smiles. “Okay. I like your attitude.”
She likes his too. But that’s not why she’s going camping tonight. Is it? No. She’s going because Piper suggested it, and she wants to keep up the day’s momentum. Maybe it’s Cole Danby, maybe it’s the novelty of the bushcraft activities, but Piper seems less preoccupied about Ethan. Maggie can breathe a little easier. If Piper can just roll with things for a few more days, Maggie will have the chance to talk to Ethan in the city—and take back what she said about waiting to propose.
Crisis averted.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Piper has the room to herself while her mother teaches the bachelor party how to knit. It gives her time to strategize about convincing Maggie to go camping without her. It will be a tough sell.
She unpacks her knitting bag, looking for a place to put her practice swatches from the brioche and lace workshops. Then she changes into sweats and a long-sleeved T-shirt and sits cross-legged on her bed against pillows. Looking around the room, she sees yarn is everywhere: on top of the dresser, in bags on the floor, spilling out of drawers. Either the yarn is magically reproducing or her mother has lost all restraint.
Piper reaches for one of the skeins still wrapped in its label. The yarn is hand-dyed merino wool in multiple shades of purple, from eggplant and plum, lilac and lavender. It’s buttery soft, and she winds it on her knees.
Her phone rings with a call from Ethan.
“How’s it going?” he says, and the sound of his voice floods her with warmth. She decides whatever she was annoyed about earlier couldn’t have been that important, because she’s forgotten already.
“Hi! Good timing. I just got back to the room. It’s been nonstop here.”
“Looks like it,” he says, an unmistakable edge to his voice.
“What do you mean?”
“I saw your posts.”
She stops winding for a moment, wondering what he’s talking about. It takes a second or two to realize it’s the Hannah Elise videos; she was tagged as a collaborator so they’d automatically show up on her account.
“Oh yeah—she’s one of the instructors here. I actually follow her. She’s from Brooklyn. Small world.”
“And the guy?”
What guy? Oh.
“That’s just Cole.”
“He doesn’t look like a knitter.”
Ethan’s not usually jealous. But the video must be a stark contrast to the cozy old lady retreat he imagined. Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe he’s started getting a little too comfortable in the relationship. Taking her for granted.
“He’s not. There’s a bachelor party at the inn. Cole’s here with his dad. It’s funny, actually—we’re trying to set Maggie up with him.”
Ethan is quiet. “Okay. Well, I’m glad you’re having a good time. Did you decide what to do about Gretchen?”
“No. I’m trying not to think about her.” She starts winding again. The yarn has an airy, squishy feel to it, and she decides she’ll start a blanket. Something simple and meditative. Something she can work on tonight while she’s alone.
