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.
Looking forward to seeing you guys! :)”
The response came back in minutes: “Seriously? It’s our honeymoon, Simon.
One week. Whatever! 🤷🏻♂️”
“Well, that went well!” Simon muttered, tossing his phone onto the counter.
***
The day they arrived, chaos had already descended on our house. My daughter Alicia’s friends were coming over for her birthday party, and I was in full prep mode. I was held up slicing veggies into neat little sticks, threading fruit onto skewers, plating spaghetti, and icing two dozen cupcakes I’d baked that morning.
Simon was vacuuming the guest room when I heard the car doors slam outside. I glanced at the clock. My brother-in-law and his new wife were two hours early.
“Honey, they’re here!” I called out, wiping frosting from my hands. I rushed to the front door, ready to greet them with hugs and excitement. Instead, I watched Jack and Sally march past me like they owned the place, dragging their suitcases behind them.
“Hey guys!” I chirped. “How was the drive from Pine Valley?”
“Long!” Sally replied without turning around. “Where’s the bathroom?
I need to freshen up.”
“Just down the hall, but let me show you to your—”
That’s when I heard it. The distinctive sound of our bedroom door opening. Not the guest room.
OUR ROOM. My feet moved before my brain caught up. I found them in our master bedroom.
Jack was already unzipping his suitcase on our bed while Sally examined herself in my dresser mirror. “Um, guys? Your room is actually across the hall.”
Jack didn’t even look up from his unpacking.
“Yeah, we talked about this. Sally gets carsick, and this room has better airflow. We’ll just crash here.”
“But we discussed this already.
Simon told you…”
“Look, Gloria,” Sally interrupted, turning from the mirror with an expression that made my blood pressure spike. “It’s our honeymoon. One week.
You guys have lived here for years… surely you can handle sleeping in the other room for seven nights?”
I felt like I’d been slapped. “Sally, this is our bedroom.
Our home. We offered you the guest room, and it’s perfectly comfortable.”
Jack finally looked up, his jaw set in that stubborn way that reminded me exactly why Simon sometimes avoided family gatherings. “We’re not sleeping on an air mattress during our honeymoon.
End of story.”
***
I found Simon in the garage, his hand locked around the screwdriver as he worked on our son Jerry’s bike. “They’re in our room!” I announced. “What do you mean in OUR room?”
“They’ve unpacked in there.
Their clothes are in our closet. Sally’s makeup is all over my bathroom counter.”
Simon’s face went through about five different expressions in
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