Think you’ve had houseguests from hell? My brother-in-law outdid them all when we let him and his wife honeymoon at our place. What started as a kind gesture turned into a nightmare when they took over our home…
and our bedroom. But karma showed up to set things straight. My husband Simon and I are blessed to call Sunset Cove our home.
Picture this: rolling waves just a 10-minute walk from our front door, hiking trails that wind through pine-scented forests, and little coffee shops perched on cliffs where you can watch dolphins play in the surf. It’s the kind of place people save up all year to visit for a week. Naturally, our guest room stays pretty busy.
Friends, family, Simon’s college buddies — they all end up on our doorstep eventually, cameras in hand and that vacation glow in their eyes. And honestly? We love it.
There’s something magical about sharing this slice of paradise with people you care about. So when my brother-in-law Jack called three months ago, his voice crackling with excitement through the speaker, I didn’t hesitate for even a second. “Gloria, you’re gonna love this,” he said, and I could practically hear him grinning.
“Sally and I are finally tying the knot next month, and we were wondering… any chance we could crash at your place for our honeymoon? Money’s tight with the wedding and all.”
I looked at Simon across the kitchen table.
He was already nodding, that generous smile spreading across his face that made me fall in love with him 12 years ago. “Of course!” I said into the phone. “We’d be honored to have you guys.
How long were you thinking?”
“Just a week. We promise we’ll be the perfect houseguests.”
Famous last words. Two weeks before their arrival, Simon’s phone buzzed during dinner.
He glanced at the screen and his eyebrows shot up. “It’s Jack,” he said, swiping to read the message. His expression shifted from curiosity to something that looked like dread.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, setting down my fork. Simon cleared his throat and read aloud: “Hey bro, quick question. Any chance Sally and I could use your bedroom while we’re there?
That air mattress in the guestroom doesn’t exactly scream romance, you know what I mean?”
We just sat there, stuck in a silence so stiff it felt like a dare. Our home has two bedrooms — ours, and my home office that doubles as a guest room. We’d invested in a really nice air mattress, the kind that actually feels like a real bed, plus we keep extra pillows and blankets in there.
But our bedroom was our sanctuary, where we collapse after long days and share our dreams and fears in whispered conversations before sleep takes over. “What do you think?” Simon asked, though his tone suggested he already knew my answer. “Simon, that’s our space.
Our bed. I can’t… I just can’t imagine someone else sleeping where we sleep…
going through our things. Doing stuff… I can’t.
I’m sorry.”
“I feel the same way, honey. I’ll tell him it’s not going to work.”
Simon typed back: “Sorry man, we’re not comfortable with that. But the guest room is all yours & the air mattress is really comfortable.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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