Chapter Sixteen #2
Clara shook her head in awe. She glanced down again at her answers to make sure she hadn’t imagined them.
1. White Christmas
2. Ice skater
3. Italy
How? It seemed impossible. She hadn’t even known herself—until that very instant—that Tuscany was exactly where she would pick to go in Italy.
It seemed like Brent know her better than she knew herself.
She remembered what Will had said about their phone calls.
They must have discussed these things at some point over their long chats.
The ice skater thing, though, really? They’d talked about that?
Clara swung her legs around so she could give Brent a high five and a peck on the lips. He stood up to showboat for the crowd as the other guy had done. Everyone went wild. She shook her head and rolled her eyes with a smile. Pilots.
She felt her entire body relax with the knowledge that they hadn’t embarrassed themselves.
In fact, they were on par with a couple married for twenty years.
She was struck with a sudden boost of confidence—not only about the game, but about them as a couple.
Besides, playing a game with Brent was fun. Really fun.
Clara wiped the answers from her board to start the next round with a clean slate.
Janie continued the game. “Okay, ladies, now it’s your turn to show what you know about your men.”
Clara nodded. Her mind quickly reeled as she tried her best to conjure up as many random facts as she could based on the conversations they’d had over the past couple of months.
“Okay, first question,” Janie said. “What is your partner’s favorite Christmas dessert?”
Clara’s mind drew a blank. It was just another annoying reminder that they hadn’t spent a Christmas together yet.
She chewed on her fingernail. They’d talked about Christmas plans plenty, but did he ever mention a dessert?
She set her marker on her lap and rubbed a nervous palm up and down her thigh.
They had talked about making cookies. Maybe that was it.
But what kind of cookies? She needed to write something down.
Everyone else had finished writing, and they were all waiting for her again.
“Is everyone about ready to move on?” Janie asked, looking straight at her.
Out of time, Clara wrote down her favorite Christmas dessert—those peanut butter balls she and Grams always made.
She remembered how they’d form the creamy dough into perfect drops before covering them in a thick layer of melted milk chocolate.
Clara would shake the red and green sprinkles over the top before putting them in the refrigerator to set.
Maybe a favorite Christmas dessert was something they had in common. She shrugged. It was worth a shot.
“Number two,” Janie continued. “What is the name of your partner’s favorite pet—ever?”
A pet? Brent didn’t have a pet. But had he ever had a pet? Probably. What about when he was a child? She had to come up with something. Come on, Clara, think. Her mind raced with hundreds of potential pet names.
Clara squeezed the marker tight in her balled-up fist. Why couldn’t they ask an easy one, like his middle name?
She knew that—Robert. Or what about his major in college?
Easy—engineering. But a pet’s name? It was so specific.
So personal. Sadly, it was exactly the sort of thing you should know about the man you were going to marry.
She racked her brain to come up with a name she could imagine Brent giving to a pet. It would be practical, masculine, something like . . .
Hank! She faintly remembered him mentioning a Hank once. Well, it was something. She wrote it down.
“Finally,” Janie said, “what would your partner say was the best gift he ever gave you?”
Clara pressed her left hand to her heart, her shoulders rolling back.
Now, this was one she could answer. He had only ever given her one gift, and it sat right there, sparkling on her finger.
At the very least, she would get this one right.
She nodded with confidence as she quickly wrote down engagement ring.
Maybe that was her most valuable possession.
She made a mental note to try logging into her social media account with that as the answer.
On second thought, she wouldn’t have had the ring yet when she created that password, right? She let out a frustrated sigh.
Her eyes scanned the room. Everyone seemed to be having a good time. It was just a game, something she needed to keep reminding herself. How they scored on this didn’t mean anything. Still, she was a little worried about those first two answers.
“Okay, y’all, let’s see how the ladies did,” Janie said. “Couple number one, please reveal your answers.”
The wife of the young couple turned over her board to reveal her answers.
A loud gasp went through the crowd, followed by a stunned silence.
Then, an explosion of laughter from everybody in the audience.
The good-humored bride had somehow managed to infuse some adult content into the otherwise G-rated game.
Her husband turned to read her board, and his face went crimson.
His mouth dropped open, and he threw his hands over his face.
Then, he picked up his own board and turned it around.
He had answered one of the questions more innocently than his wife had.
Still, as somebody shouted from the crowd, the two answers were similar enough when you really thought about it.
Both wife and husband were in hysterics now, along with everybody in the audience.
The entire room was filled with laughter and whooping.
Janie snickered. “All three answers, correct . . . sort of. Nicely done, couple number one.” She moved on to the older couple as the laughter continued around them. “Couple number two, show us what you’ve got.”
Clara would have been laughing herself if she hadn’t been so worried about her own performance. Couple number two flipped their boards, showing another perfect match. The cheers from the crowd swelled around them as the cocky husband performed some more of his moves.
She bit her lower lip as Janie approached them. “Couple number three, Clara and Brent, please show us your answers.”
Clara squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath. Here went nothing. She flipped her board to reveal her answers.
1. Peanut butter balls
2. Hank
3. Engagement ring
She waited. Her heart pounded.
Behind her, Brent turned over his board. Silence followed. Clara thought she could hear a cricket chirp. Crickets. She didn’t need that reminder. The cheerless quiet around them told her everything she needed to know—she had failed, badly.
Janie put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. Whispers sounded from the audience.
She and Brent turned toward each other again to compare their answers. He looked at her board with a grimace, then showed her his.
1. Gingersnaps
2. Ruffles
3. Blue star
She got every single one of them wrong? Clara stared down at his board, trying to understand the meaning behind any of the things he had written. None of those answers made any sense. Neither one of them spoke. The entire room remained silent; all eyes focused straight on them.
Janie finally let out a nervous laugh. “Well, it looks like these two need to get caught up after a long year apart, don’t you think?”
Several people chuckled to be polite.
Clara remained glued to her chair; her eyes fixed on her lap.
“Our winner is couple number two!” Janie brought the winning couple an obnoxious-looking trophy that they seemed thrilled to receive.
The music started up again, and people got up from their seats and resumed mingling.
The conversations continued to flow, and the fun atmosphere of the party was back in full swing—for everyone except Clara.
She just wished the floor would swallow her up completely.
Brent scooted his chair around so they were looking at each other face to face. Clara’s chin dipped to her chest.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He ran his fingers through his hair. “Well, I’m sure peanut butter balls are delicious.” He rubbed his forehead. “If only I weren’t allergic to peanut butter.”
Her eyes widened, and she clapped her hand over her mouth.
Her fiancé was allergic to peanut butter—and she didn’t know.
She felt sick to her stomach. She could not have possibly messed this up any worse than she did.
Clara dropped her face into her hands and squeezed her eyes tight to suppress the tears of humiliation.
She raised her head, still refusing to meet his eye, and cautiously reached over for his hand.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I guess I forgot some things. Maybe I was just nervous.”
Brent gave her hand a tender squeeze. “That’s okay. I understand.” He put his hand to his heart as if he had been wounded and gave her a pained look. “But Ruffles? You forgot about my dog?”
He had a playful smile on his face, but she could tell he was genuinely hurt. And why shouldn’t he be? She just showed him, along with everyone else at the party, that she knew nothing about him. The man she was planning to marry.
“I thought I remembered something about a Hank.”
He pursed his lips. “Hank is my dad’s name.”
Clara gritted her teeth, the increasing buildup of embarrassment physically hurting her entire body.
She didn’t dare bring up the blue star, whatever that was.
Maybe he had named a star after her. Maybe he bought her some star-shaped jewelry.
She didn’t know. Either way, how could an engagement ring not be his best gift?
Well, she knew one thing for sure—she was not going to ask.
A hot panic crept over her chest as she realized the reality of what all this meant. She was going to marry someone she didn’t know anything about—even something as simple as his favorite Christmas dessert. But how could she? They’d only known each other for eight weeks.
Clara ran her gaze around the room, trying to focus on her surroundings to calm down, the way Grams had taught her.
She glanced over at the tree, and it appeared to spin, the lights creating a haze of tension.
She looked toward the band, and it seemed to scream at her.
She looked at Brent and could see nothing but the look of disappointment all over his face.
She couldn’t calm down this time. No, she needed to get out of there.
She popped up from her chair, desperate to leave.
Brent looked up at her with obvious concern on his face.
She forced herself to sit back down. She stared at him, her eyebrows pulled together.
Clara knew she should stay and come clean about her wish.
This would be the moment to do it, to be honest with him about what was going on.
But she couldn’t. She was mortified enough.
She couldn’t take this feeling for one more second.
Her breathing became shallow, and she felt her skin flush.
She couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen into her lungs.
Her eyes darted around the room, looking for somewhere to escape.
“Clara?” Brent’s expression grew more worried by the second.
She covered her face with her hands and dropped her chin to her chest. No, she couldn’t tell him the truth. It would be too hard. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she pinched her forehead. Then, she raised her chin and stood from her chair, leaving the dance floor in a hurry.
As Clara bolted away, only one thought went through her mind: She wished she were braver. Why was she always too scared to do the hard things? After all, it was why she was in this mess in the first place.