Page 28 of Adventures In Honeymooning

“You cried when Bambi’s mother died!” Brenna shot back.

“So did you, heffa. And when the Dalmatian pups got taken by Cruella.”

“And, if my memory is right, you cried over something in The Fox & The Hound…” Brenna huffs.

We both start to laugh then. “Those were good times. Memaw would sit between us, hold us, and let us cry it out. I secretly think she stored those times up as ammo for later dates.”

“Yeah, like when she would want us to rub lotion on her feet.”

“Oh god! I’d forgotten about that. She did that when you were being a brat. I got it when she thought I wasn’t paying attention. Most of those times, she was spot on for both of us.”

I sniffle, trying to hold back the tears. I see Brenna doing the same.

“Bro, why do they keep crying? I swear they’re leaky all the time.”

Noah says something to Abel, but since they’ve stopped to let us get a little ahead of them, I don’t hear what.

The rest of the walk is silent. Both Brenna and I are overrun with emotions and not wanting to cry for real. It’s hard to lose the ones you love. The people who are always there for you, no matter what. Brenna and I are as close as we are now because of the lives we had as kids. Her parents—they don’t matter, they weren’t there for her. When she and I became friends, my family accepted her, scooping her up with their love and devotion. She truly became the sister I’d always wanted.

That’s why I came back to Oregon after being away for a few years. The time away has been good and bad. But coming home, that had shown me what I’d been missing by being gone. I’d missed my best friend—my sister—and I’d found love. A big teddy bear of a man who truly and unconditionally loves me.

We stop just a few steps short of the front of The Workshop Cork and stare. The pictures really don’t do it justice. After a minute, the boys catch up and usher us inside. Breanna has already set up for us to eat in The Secret Garden, so we order drinks then set out to find a spot, leaving the boys to handle the food

The whole setup is amazing. We order, Brenna and I keeping it simple after getting a good look at the desserts they have. You know, dresses hide the extra weight a little. I am down for anything they have to offer. Tomorrow afternoon, we will be leaving Cork and heading up the coast. I plan, for myself at least, to make the best of this experience.

I sip my tea, enjoying the creaminess. When the food comes out, the fellas grab a seat, and we just take it all in.

Of course, it is at this moment that Brenna and I become those people who take pictures of their food with the intention of posting on social media.

I have every intention to use my Facebook page as a way to keep family and friends updated on our trip, but as Noah had suggested earlier, we will only post after we’ve left places.

Like tonight, once we are back in our room, I can go in and post about this experience. I doubt anyone has followed us here wanting to do harm. By waiting to be safe, I validate his concern and show I am willing to compromise. It makes no difference to me if I post now or in a few hours.

“You two are going to run out of storage space, and it’s only day one,” Abel chuckles before shoving a chip in his mouth.

“I have unlimited space and a Google folder ready to house anything and everything. I can’t make a scrapbook if I don’t have pictures,” I reply, inspecting my sandwich.

I got the pulled pork ciabatta, and let me just tell you, it smells amazing. That first bite though, it takes me out in the best of ways. It might—before Noah—be better than sex.

Brenna, who actually moans at her first bite, closes her eyes and fully savors her bite. When her eyes open, we exchange a half of our sandwich and yeah, that Home Coke Ham—chef kiss.

“You want a bite of mine? I got the spiced beef.”

“Same, babe, a bite though, not the whole thing like last time.”

I wipe my mouth, hiding a laugh as Brenna glares at Abel. I lean toward Noah and take the offered bite. Closing my eyes, I let the flavor explosion hit my taste buds.

“That’s good, but a little more spice than I want to eat this close to bed.”

“Here that, bro, your girl doesn’t like spice.”

“I said to eat, you turd.”

I am trying to remember that we are in a foreign land. I know people of all nationalities swear, but I am trying to be respectful. The last thing I want to do is offend someone.

“You’re gonna pay for that, dumbass. Just don’t kill him, Mara; remember, the insurance money isn’t available yet.”

“I won’t kill him. I wouldn’t do good in jail. I’ll find other ways to torture him,” I promise, and with that, I go back to eating.

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