Chapter Seventeen #2
Twenty-five questions, Harper thought, already mourning the evening.
Harper was in the mood for a plate of fresh spaghetti alle vongole with clams glistening in garlic and olive oil.
She’d been secretly hoping they’d wander to one of the nearby beach bars, possibly grab a bite to eat before retreating to Elise’s place.
But a small, very realistic part of her knew that wasn’t going to happen. Not after this.
Elise scooted even closer. “Don’t look so stressed,” she said. “It’s supposed to be fun.”
This wasn’t Harper’s idea of fun. In fact, it was the complete opposite.
She’d rather be hunched over a laptop in a dim office, going through hundreds of slightly out-of-focus shots than determine the fate of their relationship based on a silly internet test. Or situationship.
Or whatever they were calling it at the moment. This was torture.
“Okay,” Elise said, tapping the screen. “Question one: On a lazy Sunday morning, would you rather sleep in with a coffee on the balcony or go for a hike outside?”
That was easy. Too easy. “Hike outside,” Harper said, wondering what the catch was, if there even was one. “There’s really nothing like a long hike up a mountain before breakfast.”
But then Elise tilted her head to the side and gave a look that made Harper immediately doubt herself. “What would you pick?” she quickly asked, frowning.
Elise waved her hand in the air as if it didn’t matter.
But it did; it really, really did. “Let’s do the next question.
” She flicked her gaze down to the screen and read, “Question two: How do you handle arguments or conflicts? Do you talk it out immediately? Or do you sleep on it, then revisit it, or do you avoid confrontation altogether?”
Harper’s marriage to Harry had only succeeded as long as it did because they’d established a very clear let’s not talk about it until we’re both cooled off policy.
But she had a feeling that was the wrong answer.
Or at least not the answer Elise would choose for herself.
So Harper lied. “Talk it out immediately.”
Elise looked satisfied, if not a little elated. “I agree. It’s always best to get it out in the open. My grandmother always used to say, ‘Never go to sleep angry or without kissing your husband on the lips.’” She flicked on her phone’s screen, which had gone dark. “Next question.”
Harper felt her stomach tighten.
“It’s a rainy evening, and you and your partner are snuggled up on the sofa. What’s your movie mood? Rom-coms that will make you laugh, or action thrillers that keep the adrenaline up?”
Harper had enough thrill in her life and didn’t need to get it from a television screen. “Rom-com,” she said truthfully. “I love laughing together.”
Elise’s face lit up like the sun. “You read my mind.”
At least that was something they agreed on. Harper couldn’t explain the relief rocketing through her body. She folded one leg under the other and hoped the rest of the questions could go down as easily. Unfortunately, it seemed that was not the case.
Elise read the next question. “If you’re hosting a dinner party with friends, are you either cooking and planning the entire thing or letting your partner do the heavy work?”
Harper didn’t host much. She and Harry had always met their friends at restaurants or pubs.
And she didn’t love to cook either. If she had to be honest, she’d probably be the one in the living room entertaining everyone with stories of her expeditions.
“I guess I’ll probably entertain the guests,” she said, answering honestly.
Elise bit her bottom lip so hard that it went white.
“What kind of host are you?” Harper asked quickly. She realized she had no idea what role Elise would take in a situation like that. Did she even know Elise at all?
“I don’t host that often, to be honest,” Elise said, not answering the question.
Then she quickly flicked her hand through the air again and added, “Why don’t we just move on.
The next one seems pretty easy.” She scrolled down a bit, and Harper wondered if she’d skipped a few questions she assumed they would disagree on.
Frankly, it was probably for the best. Harper didn’t know how much more she could take.
“Okay,” Elise said. “What do you think is the best arrangement for household chores? A strict schedule or whoever has the time?”
“Umm…” Harper started, not sure which answer was the appropriate one. Harry had done all the cooking and the cleaning. In fact, he’d kept their house so orderly it could’ve been featured in a magazine. “How about option C: we hire external help?”
Elise gave her that look again.
“I mean… a schedule would probably be more responsible,” Harper offered. There was no way she was going to pass this test. Judging by Elise’s face, she wasn’t even going to get close.
One after the other, the questions kept coming.
Each time Harper answered, she found herself wondering if she should be lying just to satisfy Elise.
But she also had no idea what would satisfy Elise.
By the time they reached the end of the quiz, Harper’s brain felt like a tangled fishing net dragged behind a boat for six months.
“So, how did we do?” Harper asked, a little breathless from nerves. She would be lying if she said her head didn’t hurt. Or that only a tequila shot might make it better.
But Elise didn’t answer right away. In fact, she didn’t answer at all.
She just stood up, brushed flecks of sand off her ass, and smiled in a way that unequivocally said we failed this thing.
“It’s not important,” she said, already turning toward the parking lot.
“It’s just a dumb little quiz. We should probably go. ”
Harper’s entire body felt like it sank into the sand. “Okay,” she said, because what else was there to say?