Happily Ever Madder: Misadventures of a Mad Fat Girl by Stephanie McAfee Page B

setting the bag on the table. “Two of them just for you.” I walk over to the sink and wash my hands.
    “Sounds good,” he says and starts digging in the doughnut bag. “What time are you leaving?”
    “Tia is coming at nine.”
    “That’s right.” He looks at the clock on the stove. “Looks like we’ve got about an hour to ourselves, then.” He nods toward the chair across from him. “Join me?”
    I pour myself a cup of coffee and take a seat at the table. Buster Loo runs in circles around the chairs until Mason finally tosses him a piece of apple, which he smacks on with great enthusiasm.
    “So,” Mason says, looking at me. “Let’s talk about our honeymoon.”
    “Oh goodie!” I say, chomping on a chocolate-covered doughnut, delighted to know he’s been thinking about our Happily Ever After.
    “I need to know what kind of experience you’re looking for.”
    “A very sexual one,” I say and bat my lashes like a floozy.
    He laughs and gets up to get himself some more coffee. “Well, baby, I can deliver that anywhere, anytime.” He turns to face me. “You need to see the helicopter this morning?”
    I eyeball his boxers and shake my head from side to side. “Think I’ll pass on that, but thanks for asking,” I say, wondering if there has ever been a woman anywhere on the face of the earth who actually
needed
to see her man shake his hips and swing his ding-dong around in circles. Jeez.
    “Well, it’s always ready to fly for you, baby.”
    “I do not doubt that at all,” I say, laughing and rolling my eyes.
    “So where am I taking my lovely bride on our honeymoon?” he asks, topping my cup off with steaming-hot goodness. “Somewhere like Italy or Greece, or would you prefer a good dose of winter in a secluded cabin in Breckenridge or maybe a bed-and-breakfast in Vermont?” He sits back down at the table.
    “Oh wow! I don’t know,” I say with stars in my eyes. I haven’t been out of the country since I took a year off from college to study in Europe, so I’d love to go abroad again, but on the other hand, a snowy getaway sounds terribly romantic. “Those are excellent choices.”
    “We can do it all eventually; I just need to know what you like best so I can get the travel arrangements set up.”
    I ponder the choices and then go with the snow. “Let’s do winter!” I say, so excited I’m afraid I might piss myself. I put my coffee cup down on the table.
    “Winter it is!” he says, smiling. “East Coast or Rockies?”
    “You pick.”
    “I pick Vermont,” he says without hesitation. “Connor and Allison went up there last year, and he said it was great, plus the bed-and-breakfast where they stayed allowed pets.”
    “Yay!” I exclaim. “Vermont it is!” Buster Loo, as if sensing his sudden involvement, is back on the scene running around in circles again. I lean down and say, “Buster Loo’s going to Vermont! Buster Loo’s going to be a snow dog! We’ve got to get you a new sweater!” I look back up at Mason. “I didn’t know Connor and Allison had a dog.”
    “Yeah, it’s one of those little bitty fluffy fuzzy things that barks nonstop and bounces around like a tennis ball. Got a big bushy bunch of fur around its neck and a big bushy tail. What’s it called?”
    “A Pomeranian?”
    “Yes, that’s it, because Allison gave it a long complicated name that Connor thinks is ridiculous so he runs around calling it the PoPo and Allison gets all pissed off.”
    “It’s hard to tell if they’re happy together or not so much.”
    “Oh, they’re perfectly happy,” he says, waving off my comment. “They’re just young so they still think it’s cool to bicker and fight all the time. They’ll be married forever.”
    “The PoPo,” I say, giggling as I imagine Connor saying that in front of Allison.
    “Ask her about her dog sometime,” Mason says. “I can’t believe she hasn’t mentioned it to you.”
    “She may have,” I say honestly and think that she