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While the MC explains how the quiz is going to work, Alex murmurs quietly in Missie’s ear. She scolds him, and he says, “James will remember all the rules. He always tells everyone what to do anyway.”
“Someone has to,” I say. “You lot are useless.”
“You don’t have to be so rude about it,” Cassie replies sharply.
Her pissy attitude is really starting to annoy me, but I refuse to let it show. “I wasn’t talking about you,” I say as mildly as I can. “I was referring to these losers.” I gesture at the rest of them.
She just lowers her gaze back to her phone, ignoring me. I grit my teeth. I can see that the others are embarrassed by our exchange, and I don’t blame them. There’s nothing worse than a couple bickering in front of people. At this rate, we’re going to recreate the episode from The Office where Michael and Jan invite Pam and Jim to dinner.
A waiter arrives with a large bowl of mulled wine and a tray of small glasses, and Juliette and Missie ladle the wine into the glasses and pass them around. Cassie refuses, but I accept one, desperate to numb the irritation I’m feeling. It’s incredibly sweet. The smell of the red wine with orange, cloves, cinnamon, and raisins immediately transports me back to Christmases when I was a teen, which doesn’t help the uneasy feeling in my stomach.
“What do you think?” I ask Aroha as she puts down her glass after taking a sip.
“It’s not really my thing,” she murmurs, obviously not wanting to be rude.
“Nor mine.” I raise a hand, attracting the gaze of the waiter, and he comes over. “Can I have a double Glenlivet on ice, please, and…” I look at Aroha. “Do you drink whisky?”
“Um… yes…”
“Make that two, please.” I glance at Cassie. “Do you want anything else?” She shakes her head, not looking up from her phone, so I nod at the waiter, and he goes off to order.
“Thank you,” Aroha says. “What a treat.”
“No worries.” There’s no time to talk further because the MC has started.
It’s a standard trivia quiz, with questions divided up into categories, and we progress through Geography, History, Sports, Music, and Food. The people I work with are good company, and as the alcohol flows and everyone relaxes, we bicker good-naturedly about the answers with much laughter. Despite Aroha’s protestation that she’s terrible at trivia, she throws herself into it, having a go and not caring if she misses the mark, and it’s a lot of fun.
Cassie, however, refuses to join in at all. The others cast her glances occasionally, and Alex even tries to draw her in by asking her if she knows the answer to some of the questions, but she just says no and returns her gaze to her phone.
I’m annoyed and embarrassed, and when the MC announces a ten-minute break, I murmur to her, “Come on Cass, please don’t sulk.”
“Fuck off,” she says, loud enough for everyone to hear. She picks up her purse and phone and says, “I want to get up, please.”
“Cass…”
“Now,” she snaps.
Henry stands, Aroha scoots along, and I follow. Cassie gets to her feet, then, without saying anything to the others, heads for the exit.
I stand with my hands on my hips for a moment, my stomach churning. More than anything, I want to sit back at the table, drink my whisky, and just be with my friends, without this constant cloud of misery hanging over my head.
But Cassie is my girlfriend, and I need to sort this, so I follow her out.
I catch up with her just as she goes through the door, and I slide a hand under her arm and pull her to one side. She snatches her arm away, turning to glare at me.
“Where are you going?” I ask crisply.
“Home.” Her bottom lip trembles. “My home.”
She’s referring to the fact that I haven’t yet asked her to move in with me. My jaw tightens. She has a point. We’ve been dating since March, so nearly nine months. She often stays over at my apartment in the city, and my wardrobe and bathroom are scattered with her things. But I haven’t taken her to my house in West Melton. It’s my space, and I know if I ask her there, it will involve a commitment I’m not prepared to make.
Unbidden, I think of Aroha’s words, Does she make you happy?
It’s such a simple concept, but I haven’t thought about it like that before.
It’s a stab in my gut, but the answer is no. I stayed with her to pacify my father, who has insisted that he’ll write me out of his will if I don’t settle down soon. I don’t need the money for myself—Dad gave me a significant sum when I graduated from university, and I’ve more than doubled it with careful investments—but I know so many charities and causes that could benefit from the vast fortune. Still, it’s not worth committing myself to an unhappy marriage for.
“Cass,” I say with a heavy heart, “I think we need to accept that we’re done.”
