Page 5 of Her Beary Hot Summer (Welcome to Bear Mountain #3)

invite

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lark

F rom: Holly Winters [email protected]

To: Lark Bird [email protected]

Re: You’re Invited to Bear Mountain for our Special Joining Ceremony

Hey, Girl, hey!

I’m trying you here because I didn’t hear back from you at the other address. I know things are crazy with the school year winding down, but I was wondering if you’d decided about coming up to Bear Mountain for my Joining Ceremony with Koda, Hawk, and Leif.

I feel terrible that you didn’t get to go to the wedding, and I’d really love to have you there.

And I know you’re saving up for IVF treatments, so don’t worry about springing for a hotel.

You can stay with us. And you won’t even have to figure out food because Hawk is the best cook in Bear Mountain, and our fridge is always threatening to explode with food.

But if you do come, there are a few things we should talk about first—things I can’t explain over email ? —

“Why are you frowning? Is Mr. Good Time trying to hook up with you again, even after stomping all over your heart?”

I looked up from my phone just as my twin, Robin, walked back into the living room of the Burnaby townhouse she and Vikram had scraped together their life savings—and a generous loan from his parents—to buy.

Despite giving birth just a couple of months ago, she was already back in workout gear. Also, back to a size four, with only the faintest pooch to prove she’d ever been pregnant.

I glanced down at my own stomach, barely contained by shapewear a very relatable woman on Instagram swore would flatten my tummy, and I swallowed a fresh surge of jealousy.

Again.

It wasn’t Robin’s fault she had everything I wanted.

A loving, stable relationship with Vikram, the sweetheart of an admissions director she’d met on our first day at Barrington Academy.

A baby girl after three years of steady, out-in-the-open dating.

A fiancé who’d tearfully offered her a ring within twenty-four hours of finding out she was pregnant and immediately started planning their future together.

Meanwhile, I was still recovering from Mr. Good Time—and still a couple of thousand short of what I needed to undergo fertility treatments this summer.

I sighed and shook my head. “No, it’s not Mr. Good Time. I haven’t heard from him since I asked him to help me make a baby.”

“Asshole,” Robin muttered—not for the first time.

And, not for the first time, I defended him. “It’s my fault for thinking three years of hooking up meant anything close to real feelings on his part. I should’ve believed him when he said he wasn’t looking for anything serious.”

“Whatever. You’re a catch,” Robin said firmly. “I will never stop thinking he’s an idiot for ditching you.”

See?

Yet another reason I had no excuse to feel anything but happy for my twin.

Robin had always been on my side.

It wasn’t her fault she was blissfully happy, while I was heartbroken and alone.

It wasn’t her fault she’d accidentally gotten pregnant with her steady boyfriend of three years, while I was scrimping and saving every Canadian loonie to afford a round of IVF with donor sperm.

And it most definitely wasn’t her fault that I’d barely gotten the word “baby” out before Mr. Good Time practically vanished into the wind.

I hate myself for being like this.

Hate… that was a trigger word. We’d talked about “not believing” the intrusive thoughts that late diagnosee auties often found themselves saddled with for life after decades of invalidation, masking, and lots and lots of rejection.

Still, I couldn’t help but lambaste myself for wishing I had her life. Her meet-cute luck. Her ovaries.

Redirection. Redirection. Redirection.

“It was an email from Holly,” I told her, switching the subject.

Robin perked up. “The midwife who married the Barrington? And, like, two other hot guys—because, apparently, one billionaire smoke show wasn’t enough for her?”

“Yes, that Holly.”

I almost laughed. Robin had never been as good at masking her true feelings as I was.

“Apparently, they’re having a Joining Ceremony in late July, and she wants me to come.”

Robin snorted. “Yeah, right. I could’ve told her your answer to that would be no.”

I had been planning to say no, actually. But something about Robin’s snort made my forehead scrunch.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Robin shrugged and plopped down on the couch next to me. “The most adventurous thing you’ve ever done was hooking up with Mr. Good Time. And even that was only because you thought it was the practical choice while you finished your master’s.”

She wasn’t wrong.

Back then, like most women in their mid-twenties, I thought I had plenty of time to get my degree, find the right guy, settle down, and start a family.

I’d been wrong about all three. I’d lost the guy.

Dropped out of grad school. And now my every dollar, every decision, every hour was funneling into one fragile hope: having a baby before it was too late.

“But what does that have to do with Holly’s Joining Ceremony?” I asked.

“I love you, sis.” Robin tilted her head in that way she did when she was about to give it to me straight. “But you never do anything unless it fits into your plans.”

She wasn’t being mean. And even worse, she was totally right. I hated going off routine.

“You won’t even take a vacation without weighing every possible thing that could go wrong and taking out travel insurance—even though you’ve never actually had to use it.”

“It’s the peace of mind it gives you—” I started to explain.

She cut me off with a knowing grin. “See? There’s no way you’re renting a car to drive to some random mountain town for some random wedding—or whatever they’re calling it.”

My stomach sank.

Wow. I wanted to deny it, but the truth was—it hadn’t even occurred to me to say yes.

Robin was right.

I didn’t do spontaneous.

I didn’t do risky.

And to be honest, I was still reeling from my dependable, sensible, I-thought-just-as-risk-averse best friend suddenly announcing she was in a polyamorous relationship with three guys.

Even Holly had taken a leap.

Even Holly had found joy outside the lines of her productivity app—which, for the record, was the same as mine. I seriously couldn’t stop recommending the time.lytic app to everyone I knew. Even Mr. Good Time…

I stared at my phone and tried not to remember the pitying look in his dark eyes as he said,

“Sweetiebird, you know we work good in bed. But we’re not a match outside of it. You and me want different things from a relationship, and like I told you from the start—I’m only in Vancouver for a good time, not a long time. And I’m definitely not looking to leave any kids behind.”

I wish I’d nodded. Smiled. Let him go with dignity.

My pride would have loved that version of the story.

But instead, I’d had a full-on autie meltdown. Begged him to help me. Sobbed. Screamed. I even tried to grab his arm when he shouldered his duffel and started to leave.

And he just shook me off.

That was how I came to find out—in the most humiliating way possible—that Mr. Good Time did not share my delusion. Like, at all.

Robin was right. Even my Dom-sub relationship had been neatly filed under “spontaneous free time” in my time-block productivity app. Right between “meal prep” and “grading homework.”

I’d never taken a real chance in my life.

And I was so tired of sticking to plans that never worked out.

“You know what?”

I straightened in my seat.

“I am going to that wedding—Joining Ceremony, whatever.”

I picked up my phone to RSVP.

But before I could hit send, Acorn stirred.

A tentative little whimper at first. Then the kind of full-body baby outrage that only comes from the cruel injustice of being placed in a bassinet for eight entire minutes.

“I don’t know why she’s refusing to go down. I just fed her….” Robin started to sit up, rubbing her eyes.

But I jumped to my feet, happy to be of some use as opposed to secretly seething with heavily masked jealousy.

“I’ve got her.”

“You sure?”

“I am Best Aunt certain,” I answered, already heading to the bedroom, where Acorn was winding up for a full scream.

“You’re her only aunt,” Robin called after me, sinking back onto the couch. “But thank you!”

No thanks required.

It was the kind thing to do. The right thing to do.

For the twin sister I had no business being jealous of.

But it also turned out to be the most disastrous thing I could’ve done.

Because in my head, I had already RSVP’d. I had already committed to going to Holly’s Joining Ceremony.

And when I didn’t hear back from her, I just assumed she was busy. That she’d gotten my message and didn’t need a follow-up.

I was trying to be chill. A gracious friend. The kind of woman who didn’t have to double-confirm every little thing.

Huge mistake.

Because instead of dipping a toe outside my comfort zone with a short visit to Bear Mountain…

I got dragged headfirst into a

Beary,

Beary,

Beary

Hot…