Chapter Five
T elfer was not impressed by breakfast.
They’d been guided to a long table in the gallery room, apparently called that because there were a number of indifferent landscapes hung on the walls. Carrick and Britt had been seated already; Samuel and Patrick were sitting down when the rest of them arrived. Sarah came in, tinkled a small silver bell, and breakfast began.
Telfer had envisioned gourmet eating. And to be fair, the food was tasty. It was the portion size he took issue with.
Kyle, wearing kitchen whites, had presented each guest with a small square of rye toast, two soft-boiled quail eggs, a salad of microgreens, and half an orange. Telfer had eaten all of it, and waited for the next course, which apparently didn’t exist.
What did exist were champagne flutes full of mimosas. Laodice drank half of hers, and then shook her head at the refill proffered by Danielle, who didn’t really look old enough to be serving booze in the first place.
Telfer made eye contact with her before she could back away.
“Could I get a coffee, please?” he asked.
“Um,” the girl said, looking at Sarah, who came over.
“We’re preparing for morning meditation,” she said, smiling prettily. “A light breaking of the fast, and no caffeine intake is essential if you’re to receive the full benefits.”
Telfer was tempted to ask for coffee anyway—and some more toast—but Laodice was watching, and getting the same experience normal guests did was important for her story. He asked for water instead. Sarah looked unhappy, but she could hardly object to that.
“Water for me too, please,” Laodice said, and Britt signaled for the same.
Yvette watched them from across the table, obviously trying to figure out whether the winning move was to stick to the program, or follow the lead of others.
“Are you going to eat that?” Laodice asked, gesturing at Yvette’s untouched plate.
“I never eat breakfast,” Yvette said, and took a sip of her mimosa.
“I’ll have it, then,” Laodice said cheerfully, and Xavier looked sad he hadn’t laid claim to the food first. His breakfast had disappeared as fast as Telfer’s.
Yvette watched Laodice cut into the toast. “How far away is your wedding, Elle?” she asked. “Aren’t you worried about fitting into your dress?”
“We haven’t set a date yet,” Laodice said. “And it will be the dress’s job to fit me .”
Telfer felt that was definitely a point for Laodice. “We’re not setting a place at the high table for diet culture,” he said. It was a direct quote from one of Laodice’s stories, but he figured she wouldn’t mind him borrowing it.
“Well said,” Britt murmured.
Laodice grinned at him. “Thank you, honey. Do you want one of these eggs?”
“Yes,” Telfer said, and accepted his tiny egg with a real sense of accomplishment.
“Here’s our sleepy girl,” Sarah caroled, as Hazel slunk in, dressed in a pink sundress and perfectly made up.
She looked a lot better than Telfer had thought she would, but he took in the slump of her shoulders and the quick, cautious glance she threw at Jesse, and wondered how much of it was for show.
Jesse jumped to his feet and pulled out the chair beside him.
“Here, darling,” he said, a bit louder than he needed to. “I hope you’re feeling better.”
Hazel looked surprised, and then touched, as Jesse began cutting up her toast and cooing at her.
Don’t fall for it , Telfer thought, and met Laodice’s serious eyes. Yeah, they both knew there was something bad happening there. Laodice had never made a secret of her dislike for him, but he couldn’t imagine her ever belittling him the way Jesse had Hazel, and Jesse was supposed to be in love with Hazel. Jesse was supposed to love Hazel so much that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.
Telfer thought that wouldn’t be a great thing for Hazel.
Hazel ate her meager breakfast and Laodice finished her second half of an orange, while Sarah took them through the day’s schedule. They had meditation, then a flower arranging workshop which was supposed to make them more aware of the love language of flowers, and would probably serve as paid product placement for the florist. Then they’d have lunch and “recreational siesta time,” which made Yvette smirk and Patrick and Samuel raise their eyebrows at each other meaningfully. Telfer mentally marked this as the ideal time to work on his deadlines.
The evening was reserved for something ominously called “The Great Couples Challenge.” Telfer felt a flicker of doubt, but Laodice didn’t look worried. Well, if she thought they could handle it, they probably could.
Some minutes later, sitting on a yoga mat cross-legged facing Laodice, he was less confident. The room they were in was dimly lit, and he was holding Laodice’s hands, while irregular chimes rang out. Several pink salt lamps were softly glowing along one wall. Sarah’s voice, smooth and sure, flowed over them, intoning the most ridiculous nonsense Telfer had ever heard.
“Gaze upon your beloved’s face,” she crooned. “Witness the universal love of the universe made flesh in your beloved. You are attuned to the fundamental harmony of life. You are resonating on the frequency of all souls. Within you, between you, light is born.”
Laodice bit her lip hard, and Telfer closed his eyes, willing himself not to groan audibly.
“Look into the eyes of your beloved, within whom loving truth is bound in manifested divinity.”
Telfer looked into Laodice’s amused brown eyes, and tried to take apart the sentence. Was Sarah speaking in metaphor, alluding to something he didn’t recognize, or was it all gibberish?
“Feel the soul-touch of your beloved lift you beyond the earthly plane into eighth-dimensional light.”
Laodice’s hands shook in his and she mouthed, “What the fuck?”
Telfer barked a laugh, which he made a cough, which became a real cough. He sputtered to a halt and wiped his streaming eyes. Sarah was staring at him in patent disapproval. Patrick was trying to stifle his own laughter. Britt looked serene and Carrick looked sympathetic.
Yvette was sitting ramrod straight, her eyes trained on Xavier’s, a dreamy look plastered on her face, obviously determined to get a gold star in Being Great at Couples Meditation.
“Excuse me,” Hazel said, and scrambled to her feet. Sarah turned to her, annoyed, but Hazel was already running out of the room, one hand clamped over her mouth. Even beneath the perfect makeup, she looked green.
“Excuse us,” Jesse said, and stalked out after her.
Yvette momentarily dropped her attempt to earn Meditation Valedictorian to glare at Jesse’s back, and Xavier tugged at her hands. She turned back to him, her face softening, and Telfer caught the motion of Xavier’s thumbs across her wrists, a subtle caress that dropped some tension from her shoulders.
Alma and Erik were gazing at each other, too entranced to have noticed anyone else. Sarah looked at them for a moment, and seemed to be trying to work out if she was pleased or not. Erik was sitting in a beam of light coming in from a high window, and it was doing impressive things to his curls and cheekbones. Telfer had never been the slightest bit interested in guys, but Erik’s beauty was almost unearthly. He had to appreciate it on an aesthetic level, if nothing else.
“Let’s start again,” Sarah said, her voice tight with frustration.
Telfer gazed over Laodice’s shoulder this time, so they couldn’t set each other off again, and tried to tune Sarah out. This wasn’t a great omen for the rest of the retreat.
***
It was becoming clear to Laodice that Yvette didn’t know where to place “Elle.”
Elle worked in the Wardrobe at Olympus Inc, which could be a low-level opening position she’d worked her ass off for, or a favor called in from a rich relative. Elle Evagora wasn’t a name that had appeared in the society pages or the rich lists, but she was wearing hard-to-get It Girl pieces. Elle was a fat woman, which was unusual among the yachts-and-lacrosse squad, and she wasn’t apologetic or self-deprecating about her size, which was almost unheard of.
It would be easy to dismiss Yvette as a social climber or a mean girl, but Laodice wasn’t so sure. It seemed more as if she needed to put people in their correct places so she knew where she stood—preferably on top, but if not, at least somewhere within an established hierarchy. Laodice’s mixed signals were frustrating that desire for certainty.
She wasn’t surprised when Yvette slipped in beside her as they left the meditation room.
“Wasn’t that refreshing?” Yvette said. “I feel really rejuvenated.”
“Meditation’s never really been my thing,” Laodice said. “I love yoga, so I’ve ended up doing a lot of it, but there’s a reason savasana’s my least favorite pose. And the guided part was a little…unusual.”
Sarah’s bonkers monologue had been much weirder than unusual. Guided meditation was common, and Laodice had at least heard of manifestation and energy work, even if she was dubious about the supposed effects. But Sarah sounded as if she’d grabbed a bunch of phrases from a thousand desperate MLM newsletters and thrown them together, either not caring or not understanding that she didn’t even make internal sense.
She caught Telfer’s glance, and realized that he’d filed her yoga practice away, another tidbit to pull out about “Elle,” beloved fiancée.
Yvette made a face in agreement, then rallied. “It was a little out there, maybe, but I really felt us deepening our bond, right, Xavier?”
“Sure,” Xavier said, looking at her fondly. Then he blinked twice and moved quickly, pressing towards the window overlooking the back courtyard. “Holy crap, that’s a Spider Veloce!”
“She’s mine,” Laodice said.
“Elle restored it herself,” Telfer put in. His voice was warm and proud. She had to give him credit: he was getting better at acting the loving fiancé.
“No shit? Is it all original, or did you do some mods?”
Laodice beamed at him. “Mostly original. Seats are reupholstered. I replaced the belts, and installed Koni shocks.”
“Mind if I take a look under the hood?”
“Of course, I’d love to show—”
“Hurry up, slowpokes,” Sarah sang out, her voice high and sweet. She was eyeballing them from the entrance to the gallery room where they’d had breakfast. “It’s time to workshop our wedding florals!”
Xavier gave the Spider a longing look. “Rain check,” he told Laodice, and he and Yvette hurried over.
“Last ones in are rotten eggs!” Sarah said merrily, as Laodice and Telfer slipped into the room.
The long dining table had been replaced by three smaller tables facing the far end of the room. They were laden with vases, paper wraps, ribbons, and other tools of the floristry trade, while to the side were buckets holding an abundant display of fresh flowers. At the front of the room was a smiling dark-skinned woman with natural curls and a light green apron that declared her the proprietor of Faith’s Flowers.
Whatever Laodice might have thought about Sarah’s meditation skills, Faith was clearly the real deal. She gave the couples a brief spiel on the history of her business and the traditional and modern role of flowers in wedding celebrations, then set about showing them how to choose blooms for a harmonious display.
Laodice lost herself in all that beauty for a while, hovering dreamily over the flowers on offer before she made her selections. She did notice when Jesse and Hazel came in. Hazel looked healthier, and Samuel and Patrick made room for them at their table without comment. Laodice and Telfer were with Britt and Carrick, who was making another run at persuading Telfer to quit his job and join Argive Holdings.
Dammond Argive wasn’t a name Laodice had any fond feelings about. She stabbed a perfect chrysanthemum stalk into a foam base with too much vigor, and blinked when everyone turned to her.
“What do you think, honey?” Telfer said. It was unfair that the way he said honey sounded good. “Do you think I should throw in the towel at Olympus?”
Laodice made her eyes big and wide. “If you think it’s best, sweetheart.”
“But then we wouldn’t see each other every day,” Telfer said, bending over her. “Think about how sad we’d be.”
“You guys don’t live together?” Carrick asked, and Laodice came back to reality with a thump. She’d been enjoying the baiting, but Britt was looking curious too. Most couples did cohabitate before marriage.
“There’s no room for me,” Telfer said. “The ceramic collection takes up so much space.”
“Hey,” Laodice said, with more bite than she intended. He was trying to build on what he knew about her, she reminded herself. He didn’t know that one of her favorite pieces was currently scattered across her kitchen floor, because the guy she’d considered asking to move in had turned out to be an unreliable liar.
Telfer’s eyes flashed at her tone, and he backed off a bit. “We’re looking for places to move into together,” he said, his voice cooler. He’d actually been playful, Laodice registered. They’d been teasing each other, like real couples did.
“Rent’s hard in the city,” Britt said sympathetically, and Laodice almost agreed with her before she remembered that she was supposed to be rich. Rent wasn’t a problem for Elle Evagora.
“I’m super picky, that’s all,” she said gaily. “We want to have the right place, with lots of light and a view.”
“Argive could definitely help you out there,” Carrick told Telfer.
“Give me the hard sell later,” Telfer said. “I’m making my lady a bouquet.”
Laodice glanced at what he was doing, and then stared. He really was. He’d laid a deep pink orchid stem in the middle, flanking it with two paler pink blooms, and then two creamy pale orchids on the side, the edges of the petals tinged with a subtle blush. Even as she watched, he included some sprigs of lavender for a hit of purple, added some greenery, and expertly wrapped the whole bundle in a delicate square of cream parchment. She watched his long, brown fingers knotting a dark pink ribbon around the whole thing, both shocked and intrigued.
“Nice work!” Faith said, coming over to check. “Where’d you learn how to do that?”
“My parents were florists,” Telfer said. It had the ring of truth, and there was a dark flush in his cheeks. He held the bouquet out to Laodice. “Here,” he said, too brusquely to fit the cover story, but she was far too stunned by the gesture to find any fault.
“They’re beautiful ,” she said, taking the bouquet in both hands and breathing deeply. Lavender and vanilla rose around her, rich and sweet. “I could walk down the aisle with these.” She meant it, and Telfer could apparently tell. He gave her a long look she couldn’t interpret, and abruptly turned away.
“That’s what we’re aiming at!” Faith said. “Although since everybody in the bridal party has far too much to do on the day, we do recommend you get the experts in to create the bouquets you’ve designed. Let me get you our card.”
“Actually, I had a few questions about your business model,” Telfer said, apparently reminded of his mission. Laodice let him schmooze with the vendor uninhibited by her presence, while she put together a bouquet of her own. That was their deal; he’d take the vendors, and she’d handle the inside story of the retreat itself.
Right. She was on the job. She scanned the room in time to catch Sarah getting right into Erik’s personal space with the excuse of plucking a stray leaf from his hair. Alma, who was by the flowers, didn’t seem to have noticed.
Laodice couldn’t see Erik’s face, but his back was stiff. Sarah was smiling up at him, all shiny teeth and bedroom eyes.
It wasn’t normally hard to write positive stories about people doing their level best to make sure couples could have a fantastic day, but it was beyond creepy for Sarah to be flirting with one of her guests. It was also terrible business.
Hazel had noticed Sarah hitting on Erik too. And Jesse had noticed her noticing. “Hey,” he said sharply. “Remember me, your fiancé? The one you’re making whatever that is for?” He gestured at Hazel’s unstructured bouquet with contempt.
Laodice longed for Hazel to snap back at him, but she lowered her eyes, flushing, and muttered something about baby’s breath.
None of this was great material.
Telfer appeared to be having better luck. He and Faith were deep in conversation about seasonal bouquets versus greenhouse offerings, and Patrick had been drawn into the discussion as well.
“It’s a lovely posy,” Britt said quietly beside her, and Laodice smiled at the older woman.
“Thank you,” she said, and looked at what she’d managed to put together. She’d stuck to simple, placing an orange zinnia as the center, surrounded by a few fern strands. It was a little lopsided, and she hadn’t wrapped the florist’s tape very well, so it wasn’t nearly as nice as Telfer’s offering, but something about the careful geometry of the ferns and the precise placement of the zinnia petals reminded her of Telfer. Orange wasn’t a color she’d ever seen him in, but it would look great with his dark hair and light brown skin.
When she scanned the room again, Sarah had moved on from Erik to praise Yvette’s bouquet work. Jesse was talking to Hazel quietly, his gestures tightly controlled.
Maybe Sarah was having an off-day. Maybe she’d give herself a strong talking to, realize the inappropriateness of her behavior, and act like a pro for the rest of the week. Then Laodice could write the cover story she needed, impress Miriam and Hera, secure the editor’s role, and mandate some kind of pumpkin-themed October staff event, so that she could see if her Telfer-in-orange theory was correct.
He was walking towards her, looking deeply satisfied with himself.
“This is for you,” she said, and handed him the flowers.
Her stomach chose that moment to gurgle. She reached automatically for her phone to check the time, but of course it wasn’t on her. Telfer’s hand went for his pocket, then stilled. No, he couldn’t pull the burner out here.
“Does anyone have the time?” she asked.
“1:26,” Britt said, extending her wrist. Unlike the smart watches that had also been confiscated, this was old school practical. A black leather strap, an analog face, with a few extra dials Laodice didn’t immediately recognize.
“No wonder I’m starving,” Laodice said. They’d been up since 6 a.m., running on the world’s tiniest breakfast. Yvette hadn’t eaten at all, and Hazel had presumably emptied her stomach. “Sarah! What time is lunch?”
“Oh, soon,” Sarah said vaguely, and caught sight of Britt’s watch. The scowl flickered across her face so swiftly that Laodice wasn’t even positive it had been there, but she clapped her hands together. “All right, happy couples! In a few minutes we’ll finish up here, and then it’s time to eat.”
Xavier looked almost as enthusiastic about that as he had about Laodice’s car.
***
Lunch, to Telfer’s relief, was more abundant than breakfast. He casually chatted with the others to check their reactions to Faith’s workshop—universally positive—and ate an excellent pad thai accompanied by sparkling water and lime juice. Erik and Alma had dal instead.
“Vegan?” Patrick asked, chasing down a shrimp. “I was vegan for a while.”
“Nut allergy,” Alma said, and looked up as Danielle wheeled in the dessert trolley. “Oh, wow. Please tell me you have cheesecake?”
“Lychee cheesecake,” Danielle said triumphantly, and Telfer applied himself to a giant slice.
Laodice had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the meal. After lunch, when everybody returned to their rooms for “siesta,” she occupied herself taking notes on the day.
Her energy and sense of presence had dimmed. Telfer should have been relieved about that. It should have been much easier to get his work done.
Instead, he found himself increasingly distracted. The last time he looked up, she was still seated at the ornate dressing table that served as a desk, with her laptop open, but she was gazing out the window, unmoving.
Telfer closed his laptop. “Are you okay?” he said gruffly.
Laodice turned to look at him and blinked slowly. “Are you ?”
“Of course,” Telfer said.
“You do realize that’s the first time you’ve ever asked me that?”
“You’re usually okay,” Telfer said. He wasn’t sure why this was a problem.
Laodice tilted her head. “We’ve worked together for four years , Telfer. There have definitely been days when I wasn’t okay. You’ve never noticed before.”
He’d noticed . He’d just never wanted to know the answer, in case he had to do anything about it. Besides, Laodice collected people around her like flowers collected bees, all of whom would be better at addressing emotional tumult than he was. It would have been pointless to add to the buzz. “You’ve never asked me, either.”
“I know,” Laodice said. “That might be my point, I think? I’ve been sitting here considering all the things I don’t know about you. I didn’t know your parents were florists. I didn’t know that you’d lost them. I didn’t know you liked pad thai and hated brownies.”
“I don’t hate brownies. I merely prefer cheesecake.”
“But you know my favorite flowers are orchids.”
“Your sisters give you orchids every year for your birthday,” Telfer said. “They’re delivered to the office. It wasn’t a difficult conclusion to draw.”
“What’s your favorite flower? I bet it’s not zinnia.”
“Zinnias are fine.”
“But what’s your favorite ?” She was looking at him steadily, her dark eyes taking in everything. It felt as if she were peering through him, peeling back layers, preparing to pin him to a board for dissection and categorization.
He swung his legs off the bed and stood up. “I don’t have a favorite flower.”
“Ice cream flavor, then. Movie. Tell me something about you.”
“I don’t see that it matters. Make up anything you like, and I’ll confirm it.”
“This isn’t for the cover story,” Laodice said, her eyes kindling. “You’re sleeping beside me, for goodness sake. Would it kill you to share some basic personal information?”
Telfer’s skin felt itchy. “I don’t particularly feel the need to indulge you with small talk.”
“ Unbelievable ,” Laodice said. She jumped to her feet and yanked the robe from the back of the door. “Just when I was starting to think you might be a real person.” She stormed past him and into the bathroom, and after a moment he heard the rush of water.
Telfer stood in the middle of the hotel room, distantly wondering why his heart was pounding so hard. His hands were shaking a little.
After a moment, he picked up his laptop and went back to work. Work demanded his skill with words, his ability to decipher and reinterpret information.
Work wanted what he could do, not who he was.
That was so much easier to satisfy.
***
It was hard to stay furious with someone when you were in the middle of the most luxurious bath of your life, but Laodice gave it her best shot.
She’d asked him the most basic questions, and he’d looked at her, all composed and certain of himself, and said he didn’t want to indulge her.
The jet bubble stream pounding the middle of her back was really doing a number on the muscle knots where her bra band usually sat. She let it massage some of the tension out, still fuming. How could a man craft her a gorgeous bouquet—with her favorite flowers and her favorite colors—and then look so snooty when she asked about movies he liked? Most men loved talking about their favorite movie. She’d stopped bringing it up as a first date icebreaker, because they so often started monologuing.
He’d acted as if she’d been intrusive and nosy. Well, she was nosy, it was part of what made her a good journalist, but she wasn’t intrusive .
What were the amenities in this thing like? She lunged for the shelf of lotions, splashing water over the floor, and selected a red glass bottle shaped like a curvaceous woman. It promised to smell like a wicked night backstage at a burlesque show. In Laodice’s experience, backstage at any kind of show mostly smelled like sweat and hairspray, but she poured a generous glob into the bath and relaxed into the scent of gardenia and amber. Specks of light danced in the water, and she wasn’t surprised to discover herself sprinkled with glitter when she climbed out. Her fingers and toes were pruny, and she’d no idea how long she’d spent in the tub, but her irritation had subsided.
It flared right back up when Sarah’s voice came over the speakers again. “Listen up, lovebirds!” she declared. “I hope you’ve enjoyed your you time, because now it’s us time! Meet in the lobby for the first Halcyon Couples Quiz!”
***
When Laodice emerged from the bathroom, smelling floral and glittering slightly, she didn’t speak to Telfer. She barely looked at him.
This quiz was going to be a disaster.
The one good part of the whole miserable day thus far was the email Miriam had sent, approving Telfer working remotely, and even granting him official leave for three days, Wednesday to Friday. Provided he met his Tuesday midnight deadlines, that was one thing he didn’t have to worry about.
“Great!” Sarah said, when he and Laodice appeared, the last couple downstairs. “Telfer, you go with the boys and Kyle, and Elle, you join the girls and me! And Patrick.”
Patrick rolled his eyes.
Telfer glanced at Laodice, and she nodded, looking grim. Anyone operating in a modern wedding business ought to be considering same-gender couples, or couples who didn’t accord with gender norms. Sarah could have split the teams alphabetically, or via random number generator. Treating the gender binary as the norm, and, by that logic, deeming Patrick some kind of pseudo-woman, was another tally mark against Halcyon.
Telfer was disappointed. He’d been sure the retreat plan was a winner, and he’d recommended it to Miriam on that basis. An exclusive event for wealthy couples should have been a sure bet. Brandon had certainly thought so. He’d been enthusiastic about the project, and confident enough to invite a journalist to the soft opening.
Telfer felt bad for him. And also, for himself—he’d mispresented the quality of the retreat to Miriam, and that wasn’t going to go unnoticed.
He even felt a little bad for Laodice.
***
“Okay,” Kyle said, closing the door behind the men as they sat in the small conference room. “So, while we eat dinner, we’re going to draw questions from this box and answer them. Then we’re going up against the other group, to see who can answer the most questions right about their partner. There’s a prize for the best couple, and also our pride as a team at stake. Don’t let me down, boys.” He winked.
Telfer tried to keep the panic off his face.
Danielle came in with several platters of charcuterie, which was apparently dinner, and Telfer grabbed a handful of olives while he thought. Maybe he could get a sudden headache or fake a food allergy, and ask Laodice to help him? It seemed like a desperate measure. Perhaps, if they were lucky, the questions would be things they did know. And if they weren’t, well, often couples made assumptions or didn’t know everything about each other.
“Jesse, why don’t you go first,” Kyle said.
“What are your favorite hobbies?” Jesse read. He snorted. “I know what Hazel should put for this one. Partying and spending my money.” He looked around, obviously expecting a laugh.
He didn’t get one. Even Kyle looked carefully blank.
“It was a joke,” Jesse muttered.
“What’s your hobby?” Samuel said.
“Lacrosse,” Jesse muttered.
“I like watching old school mystery shows,” Samuel said. “Anything where a little old lady or a British vicar stumbles into murder scenes. No computers.”
“I play golf and listen to podcasts,” Telfer said, glad that Laodice and he had at least exchanged that much information. He was cursing himself for shutting down her suggestion earlier. Why hadn’t he been able to tell her a few of his favorite things? It was hardly privileged information, even if he did prefer to keep his personal life private.
Carrick claimed video gaming as his hobby, Erik quietly volunteered that he liked to read, and Xavier folded his arms. “Yvette and I don’t have time for hobbies. We work. Unless you count the gym as a hobby.”
“I think we all work, but the gym definitely counts,” Samuel said mildly. “I’ve got…mother’s maiden name.” He frowned slightly. “It’s Dupree.”
The questions went on, ranging from mundane details (what street had they grown up on? What where their favorite snacks?) to questions that were more intrusive (do you want children and if so, how many?) to the outright invasive. Telfer tried to give answers he thought Laodice might be able to guess, frantically searching his memory for what he could say about her in return. Samuel was looking more uncomfortable as they continued, and on the final round, he glanced at the card, and put it down.
“I’m not answering this one,” he said.
“What does it say?” Telfer asked.
“What’s your wedding budget,” Samuel said flatly.
“It’s meant to normalize budget setting,” Kyle said, looking trapped.
“It’s meant to incentivize competition and overspending,” Samuel said, his voice measured. “I’m not interested in that kind of comparison.”
Xavier looked a little disappointed, but Telfer got in before he could argue the point. “I agree,” he said quickly. “Let’s ignore that one. Kyle, can you go tell the others they don’t have to do that one? Thank you.”
“Um, Sarah might not—”
“Thank you, I appreciate it,” Telfer said, putting a little steel into his voice.
Kyle went off, looking uncertain, and came back a few moments later, mumbling that it was time to meet back in the lobby lounge. He looked much more comfortable behind the bar, while Sarah harried everyone into position and put all the questions into “the Cauldron of Unity,” which looked exactly like a round glass fishbowl to Telfer.
Laodice was looking subdued, and Telfer went towards her. If he could figure out how to phrase it, he should offer an apology for what had turned out to be a poor strategic choice on his part.
“Now, now,” Sarah said, intercepting him before he could get there. “No collusion before the competition begins!”
Kyle was lining up shot glasses at the bar, swiftly pouring colored liqueurs into each. Telfer looked at the shots, then at the color-coded game board Danielle was wheeling into the center. “Is this a drinking game?” he asked.
“It is!” Sarah said triumphantly. “For every wrong answer, you do a shot!”
A murmur went round the group. Most people looked more enthusiastic, and Telfer could imagine that the prospect of alcohol might improve the entertainment value of the event. But: “I don’t drink,” he said.
“Oh, right!” Carrick said. “I remember that.”
Alma looked startled. “But last night Elle said you liked Lagavulin.”
Telfer cursed internally. “I’ll have a whiskey on special occasions,” he said.
“Yes, that’s right,” Laodice said quickly. “Normally he’s a sparkling water guy.”
Telfer actually preferred still water, but he could handle some carbonation if it would smooth over this moment.
“Sparkling water it is,” Sarah said, her smile wide and unmoving. “Add that to the shots, Kyle.”
Some time later—impossible to tell how long without being able to glance at his phone—Telfer was wishing that he did drink. It didn’t surprise him that Hazel knew much more about Jesse than vice versa, and Jesse grew more unpleasant with each question he got wrong, slamming back shots as if they’d personally wronged him. Patrick and Samuel were tied, with three wrong answers each, Alma and Erik had two and one wrong respectively, and Yvette and Xavier knew everything about each other, right down to, “We don’t have any hobbies because we work too hard, unless you count the gym.”
Carrick and Britt, surprisingly, were missing several answers. Britt got fewer right than Carrick and took her shots like a trooper.
And Telfer and “Elle” were a disaster. They got the hobbies right. She’d picked cheesecake for his favorite snack, and he’d chosen that in the hope that she’d remember they’d discussed it. He’d guessed correctly that she preferred dogs to cats. But many of the answers were impossible to figure out unless you actually knew your partner intimately.
The kids question was particularly bad. He’d guessed she wanted two children, and she’d guessed he wanted one. The real answer was none, for both of them, and Telfer felt the puzzled glances go around the room.
There were half the questions still to go, and Laodice was on her fourth wrong answer. Telfer handed her his “shot” instead of the poisonous green chartreuse Kyle had lined up for her. She flashed him a grateful look as she downed the water.
“That’s cheating,” Yvette said instantly.
“Yeah,” Jesse said, squinting at them. He grabbed a shot from the bar and thrust it at Laodice. “Go on, get it down.”
Telfer plucked it from his hand. “She doesn’t have to drink if she doesn’t want to.”
“But that’s the rule,” Jesse said, his voice going high and whiny. “ I did it.”
“What are you going to do if I don’t?” Laodice asked pleasantly. “Pin me to the floor and pour booze down my throat?”
For a moment, Jesse looked as if he were contemplating it. Telfer looked at his sulky face and felt an unexpected and unaccustomed impulse towards violence.
“We forfeit,” Laodice said firmly. There was color in her cheeks, and her eyes were bright, but Telfer thought she was still mostly sober. She made eye contact and patted the seat beside her, and he sat down, absently enjoying the warm curve of hip and arm against his side.
Sarah put the unanswered questions back in the fishbowl, clearly giving up on the whole business. “All right then! That means the boys win!”
“Except for Patrick,” Patrick mumbled. Samuel grinned and kissed his cheek.
“And our winning couple is Xavier and Yvette! Yay, Xavier and Yvette!”
Telfer clapped along with the rest, more out of relief than genuine good will. Yvette was looking particularly smug as Sarah gave them a gift card for a store in the Hippocampus, “to visit on your way home.”
“This is crap,” Jesse said. “The questions were dumb.” Beside him, Hazel was very still.
“We all had the same questions, bro,” Xavier said, but Yvette tapped his arm and he subsided.
“Whatever,” Jesse said. “I’m going to take a leak.” He walked behind the bar, heading for the door that led to the back.
“That’s staff only,” Sarah said. “Your guest room—”
“I’m paying forty grand to stay in this dump. I get to piss in your fucking toilet.” The door banged behind him.
Kyle looked at Sarah with his eyebrows raised, and she shook her head. “Well, congratulations to our winners again,” she said. “Now, feel free to hang out here, or go soak in the hot tub, but don’t forget we’re getting up early for more bonding meditation tomorrow!”
“What time is that going to be?” Britt asked, glancing at her watch.
“It’s a surprise,” Sarah said enthusiastically.
“Yay,” Laodice muttered.
“Come on,” Telfer said quietly, under cover of the others’ chatting. “Let’s go to bed.”
***
“Not a great first day,” Laodice said, climbing under the covers.
Telfer was typing rapidly at the desk, his hair still damp from his shower. “No.”
“Thanks for the protein bar.” Telfer had offered it to her from his stash when they’d gotten back to the room, and Laodice was hoping it would soak up the booze. She’d enjoyed the charcuterie, but she wasn’t a big drinker, and that was now two nights in a row that she’d had to keep up with the rich kids.
“You’re welcome,” Telfer said.
“Well. Good night.” She turned off the light on her side of the bed, and lay awake, while Telfer finished whatever he was working on, and climbed into bed himself, turning off the light a moment later.
There was a pause, humming with the tension of everything they weren’t saying.
“My favorite flowers are water lotuses,” Telfer said, his voice clear in the quiet air. “My favorite movie is His Girl Friday . I don’t really have a preferred ice cream flavor because frozen desserts hurt my teeth, so I avoid them.”
Laodice sat up and looked at him. In the near total darkness of their room, he was a vague shape on the other side of the bed, but she thought he was watching her too. “Is this your version of an apology?”
“If you want to take it that—” he started, and then hesitated. Laodice let the pause lengthen. “Yes,” he said. Stiffly, but he said it. “I’m sorry. Obviously, you were right. We would have been much better off if we’d traded more information.”
Laodice did like being told she was right. “Apology accepted.”
“And it was rude of me to respond to your queries as if they were intrusive. I don’t like small talk much, but I’m aware it’s an important social courtesy, and you deserve courtesy.”
Huh. That was… a pretty good apology, actually. “Well, thank you. I appreciate that.” She lay back down. After a moment, she said, “My favorite movie is When Harry Met Sally .”
“Harry’s a jerk,” Telfer said, sounding disgruntled. “Sally could do better.”
“He improves,” Laodice said. “He grows on her. By the end of the movie, he’s all in. Plus, I bet the sex was amazing.”
“It would have to be,” Telfer agreed.
“I’m not saying I’d forgive Harry,” she said, rolling onto her side and putting her back to him. “But Sally loves him, and I want Sally to get what she wants.”
Telfer’s voice floated to her in the dark, sounding puzzled. “I don’t know how she could trust him. How could she be sure he wouldn’t panic and run again? How could he be sure?”
“He says he wants to spend the rest of his life with her.”
“And what if he’s wrong?”
Laodice punched her pillow into submission and yawned. “You think Nora Ephron should have written a sequel? When Harry Divorced Sally ?”
“Sure. I bet that’d pull in the crowds.” She could hear the smile in Telfer’s voice, and it pulled a smile from her too.
“You know what?” she said. “We’ve officially made it to the end of the first day without blowing our cover, and we’ve weathered our first inevitable fight. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad day after all.”
“Go to sleep,” Telfer said, but he didn’t sound annoyed.
Laodice decided that, against all the odds, that was good enough.