Page 29 of Second Chance Vacation

“Good morning,” Gen says as she grins lazily.

She walks past Savannah, who is still slack-jawed, glaring down at the basket in front of her.

My eyes follow Gen as she walks over to the refrigerator. The sleep shorts that fall low on her hips leave the smallest whisper of skin poking through below the hem of her shirt. Transfixed, I’m not concerned with the obviousness of my ogling. If she notices, she doesn’t show it. Gen shifts her weight to one foot, her eyes scanning the fridge for something to eat for breakfast.

“Hey—what’s this champagne for?”

“Fuuuuuuck!”

Wes throws his head back, a sigh of frustration melting into a scowl. He darts over to Gen and snatches the bottle from the refrigerator shelf in front of her before stomping back to his previously perfectly maneuvered basket. He begins pulling each item out one by one, trying to force the bottle into it, haphazardly accepting that some of the cheese will not make the cut.

“Where are we going?” Gen’s distracted voice travels in Wes’s direction, but she doesn’t break her attention from the inside of the fridge.

“Picnic,” Wes, Savannah, and I say in unison. Savannah’s gawking has not subsided.

“I didn’t know we were going for a picnic today.”

Gen turns to Savannah, then back to Wes, her attention pausing on me for a moment.

“Neither did I.”

The crease of Savannah’s brow mixed with her complexion has me concerned she may vomit. She really doesn’t do a lack of control well.

The room falls silent except for Wes’s clattering of items, forcing each hunk of cheese back into the basket one by one. Out of the corner of my eye, I sense eyes on me. I can’t resist the smirk that paints my lips as I hear Gen clearing her throat before moving her attention away.

“Finally!” A layer of sweat forms across Wes’s forehead as he forces the lid shut with a look of victory spread across his face. His head jerks from left to right, looking at each of us, awaiting praise for his efforts.

“Looks great, man.” I chuckle, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder.

Gen walks back over to the counter, stepping on her toes to reach over the island to grab a banana from the pile of sacrificed fruit lying next to the basket. Her lazy morning daze takes me back to when we were growing up. It’s a relaxed demeanor I seldom see from her these days.

“Can I have this?”

“Knock yourself out.” Wes yanks the basket, pushing it to the edge of the counter as if the moment he looks away, it may disappear. “Can you guys be ready in a half hour? I want to get there before it gets too warm.”

Savannah gasps. The look of horror from before is nothing compared to the expression she is sporting now.

* * *

The burning in my calves is a not-so-friendly reminder that the ‘perfect spot’ Wes chose is much further than the half-mile he had promised we would be walking. A wide variety of pine trees surrounds the trail. I’m convinced we will walk off the cliff before we find the clearing Wes is sure we will eventually reach. It wouldn’t be all that bad if we knew where we were going, but unlike Savannah, Wes isn’t a fan of communicating his plans.

“Wes, I think we’re lost.” I let out a tired sigh, taking a moment to stop walking.

“No. It’s coming up.” His attention doesn’t leave his phone in his hand. His phone displays what appears to be an old map in French, hosted on what I assume to be a tourism site.

“You said that ten minutes ago.”

“And it was true then. Just trust me.”

We keep trekking on as a stone clearing comes into view, nestled up against the edge of a cliff showing the way to the Mediterranean Sea. Despite my annoyance, the view is beautiful and well worth the work it requires to get to. The waves crashing against the shore are much less clear from this high up, but salty air still permeates my senses.

“Told you.” Wes smirks as we reach the clearing.

I look around, realizing for the first time that Wes has fallen behind and I have been leading. He has still been telling us where to go, but I didn’t realize until now how far behind everyone fell. By the three faces glaring at me as I turn around when we reach the spot, I am inclined to believe Wes had been too optimistic. I really don’t think it was as bad as they are making it seem, but the exhaustion is clear on their faces.

“Are we done?” Savannah gasps and leans over to place her hands on her knees, catching her breath from the incline.

Despite the hike she was warned about, she still dressed to the nines. Savannah is wearing a white sun dress with what looks like the worst possible shoes for the occasion. I am shocked that she hasn’t fallen based on looking at the three-inch wedges she is sporting. She and Wes are typically really athletic people, they even ran a marathon last year, so I am a bit surprised she isn’t better prepared.

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