Page 105 of The Golden Scoop

My memory is hazy. I read a book about Spanish history last year, but I didn’t think it’d come in this handy.

“One of them started, the other finished it,” I say.

“I think it was Magellan.”

“Wasn’t he Portuguese?” I argue.

“Funded by the Spanish, though.”

The smartest choice is to let her pick. Save myself from being in the line of fire if it goes wrong. History, though, it’s my thing. I haven’t missed a question yet. She wants to win.

“Make a decision,” Harrison urges.

“Juan Sebastián sounds more Spanish to me…” I tell her.

She narrows her eyes. “Fine. We’ll go with him,” she agrees, after a beat.

Julia jumps up from the floor and does a little dance.

Fuck.

“Wrong! It was Magellan!” she confirms. “He started the expedition, Elcano finished it.”

Emma leans back smugly, and I let out a painful groan.

“Should’ve trusted I’m never wrong. Haven’t missed one the entire game. Let me make it clear that I’m not counting this toward my streak.”

Yeah. The way she’s been spitting out bizarrely specific facts no sane person knows about is unreasonably hot.

“You’re right, honey,” I say without thinking.

The room goes silent in that ‘I-can’t-believe-he-just-said-that’ way.

I don’t even realize the nickname slipped out until I meet Emma’s gaze. She’s flushed, biting her bottom lip.

No one acknowledges it further. Julia’s holding back a grin, Harrison’s too busy acting like the cards need urgent reorganizing. Should make it worse, awkward.

But damn. This is my girl.

I hold up my chin and own it.

Within two rounds, we’ve won. Emma swings her arms around my neck and pulls me in for a loud kiss on my cheek.

“Alright, lovebirds,” Julia says. “No more teams. I need a chance to actually win something tonight.”

“How about Rummikub?” Emma suggests.

“You’re always first one out,” she complains.

“Only ninety-eight percent of the time.”

Julia’s right. Beating Emma at Rummikub is tough. I can do it—I just never have. I wonder how long it’d take her to realize I’ve been letting her win for months. The enjoyment comes from watching her face light up when she places that last tile, less from doing so myself.

“I’m into some numbers,” I agree, holding back a grin.

“It’s settled,” Harrison says. “I’ll help you out, love.”

The game starts slow, but once everyone’s in, my brain goes into overdrive. Numbers interconnect with sequences, and colors like they always do. A thousand different combinations spill out like projections over my eyes.