by Jamie Wesley
Leah grimaced. “That’s a crappy use of your vacation days.”
He hunched his shoulders in a what are you going to do gesture.
“Sorry again about your friends bailing on you. Believe me, I know how that feels.” She pointed to her house. “I should probably get going. I’ll see you around.”
He responded with a wave. “Enjoy your weekend.”
Leah went back inside and parked herself in front of her computer. She was giving herself exactly ten minutes to figure out where she wanted to spend her weekend, and then she would get on the road.
Maybe she could drive up to Niagara Falls or go down to the Poconos? For a moment she considered checking into the Waldorf or the Mandarin Oriental and treating herself to a couple days of pampering. But she wasn’t in the mood for a luxury hotel.
She wanted to go to Camp Firefly Falls, dammit! Once she’d warmed to the idea of spending time in the mountains, she’d actually gotten excited about it.
Leah pushed away from the computer and went back to her bedroom, lifting the brochure from where she’d tossed it on her bed.
This weekend’s retreat was billed as an opportunity to learn and grow in your relationship. From the newly engaged, to the recently married, to the long-timers; all were encouraged to participate, with the rationale that there was something that could be learned at any stage of a marriage.
The one demographic that wasn’t included in any of the advertisements was singles. But did that mean she couldn’t go?
Yes, it did. It was a couple’s retreat.
She crumpled the brochure and stomped over to the waste basket next to her dresser, pitching it in there with such force that it popped right out and onto the floor.
Leah stuck her tongue out at it.
It wasn’t her fault she was no longer part of a couple. Why did she have to miss out on what could have been a nice, relaxing vacation, just because her fiancé turned out to be an asshole? Hell, she deserved a vacation after what she’d been through these past twelve hours.
Based on the pictures she’d seen of the campgrounds online, Camp Firefly Falls was the ideal spot for her to unwind. So maybe she wouldn’t get to participate in any of the activities. That didn’t mean she couldn’t float around in the lake, nap in a hammock, even do a little hiking if she wanted to.
Okay, she wasn’t really the hiking kind, but that’s only because she’d never tried. There was a possibility that she would actually enjoy it.
Even if she spent the entire weekend lounging around with a good book, at least the money she’d spent wouldn’t go to waste. Well, her portion of the trip wouldn’t go to waste. She would just have to consider the money she’d spent on Derrick a loss.
Unless…
Leah glanced over at where the rumpled brochure still sat next to the curved foot of her Queen Anne dresser. She then looked toward her window. She couldn’t see past the sheer curtains, but she knew what stood just beyond the pane of glass. Her next-door neighbor’s house.
Would he?
“That’s crazy, Leah,” she said.
She’d lived next door to Caleb Scott for little over a year, but if someone were to offer her a million bucks to state ten facts about them, she’d be out a million bucks. It would be crazy to invite him to join her.
But he was so upset about missing out on his fishing trip this weekend.
“There’s fishing at Camp Firefly Falls.”
There were also two nonrefundable slots for this weekend’s retreat that would go to waste.
Her decision made, Leah walked over to the dresser and picked up the crumbled brochure. She marched out of her house and across the lawn before she could talk herself out of it.
Copyright © 2016 by Jamie Wesley.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Edited by Katherine Locke
