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“We’d better do something useful,” Macy decided, “or the guys will be done with the burgers before we’re ready.”
“How can I help?” Lindsey asked.
“I made a potato salad.” Macy opened the fridge again.
“Oh!” Lindsey gasped. “I forgot. I brought a pasta salad. It’s in the truck.”
“Do you think we need a lettuce salad?” Macy mused.
“I’ll make one,” I offered, “just in case.”
“And you can put some cookies on a tray,” Macy told Lindsey, setting a plate and a package of cookies in front of her. “I’ll supervise.” She sipped her beverage with a wink.
I roughly chopped lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, and onions, making sure to stay well hydrated. By the time my drink was done, so was the salad. I was warm and tipsy, and my belly was already full of cream, so I doubted I was going to want a big dinner.
We had more than enough food for everyone. Lindsey, Macy, and I joined the guys outside, bringing our sides and desserts. Lindsey grabbed her pasta salad, and we distributed serving spoons, laying everything out on the table. Dillon and Mike brought over the meat, still sizzling on the tray.
We dug in, Macy and Dillon helping the kids with their choices. I had half a hot dog and some of each salad. When Mike asked why I wasn’t hungry, I told him I had been snacking while I was in the kitchen. Lindsey and Macy giggled.
“I think the ladies were up to something,” Mike told the table.
We adamantly shook our heads. Mike reached an arm around me and scooped me into his lap, tickling me until I shouted, “We had White Russians!”
The rest of the table watched with horrified fascination until Mike set me back on the bench. Then they began to laugh uproariously, even the kids who had no idea what we were talking about. We finished dinner and took several trips into the house with dirty dishes. I was on dish duty, scrubbing the plates and utensils. Dillon cleaned the grill, Macy put all the food away, and Lindsey helped the kids wash up and get ready for bed. They were going to put Mary Ellen down with Nicky and Daisy and just carry her home when it was time. Jason and Mike cleaned up the picnic area, and when we all converged again, the work was done.
Dillon made a fire in a small pit next to the picnic table. Macy spread out blankets, and we curled up on the ground, each woman with their dedicated lover. I checked my phone in a lull of conversation and noticed a missed call. Listening to the voicemail, I frowned.
Macy picked up on my discomfort from the opposite side of the fire pit. “What’s wrong?”
“You know that cabin we looked at yesterday?” I asked. “They’ve rented it to the other person.”
“I’m sorry,” Macy commiserated.
“What cabin?” Mike shifted behind me so he could see my face.
“Oh, it was really nice. More of a house than a cabin. Nice and secluded. It had this great bar in the basement,” I told him.
“Off Deer Tail Road?” he asked.
I nodded. “You know it?”
“I’m the other guy,” he said.
“What?” I gasped.
Everyone around the fire sat up in shock.
“Oh my gosh.” Macy grasped Dillon’s hand.
“What are the odds?” Jason said, squeezing his wife tight.
“Stop.” Lindsey swatted at him.
“What do you mean?” I asked, distracted.
“That’s how Jason and I met.” Lindsey leaned back against her beau, her eyes twinkling in the firelight.
“You each wanted the same cabin?” Mike asked.
