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“Huh?”
Before I could explain the obvious, one of the waitresses handed me a scorecard and a pen.
“Every couple needs a team name. Put that right up at the top of the page,” Maya instructed. “Rule one: From here on out, no checking your phones or devices, as that will be considered cheating, no matter what you’re looking at. Rule two: Once the answer gets written down on the paper, you’re committed to it. No crossing out. No erasing. No do-overs.”
“Is that going to be in your marriage vows?” Carter taunted.
Maya rolled her eyes but smiled. “And last but not least, rule three: It’s just a game. Have fun.”
“Yeah, right,” Cindy muttered, taking the pen and scorecard from me.
“What should our team name be?Luke and Cindy?” I asked.
“No way. We need something that tells everyone we’re here to win.”
“The Champions?”
“Too basic. Something fiercer.”
“The Assassins? The Contract Killers?”
Cindy raised an eyebrow. “Someone’s been watching mafia movies again,” she mused. “None of that. Too violent.”
“The Fluffy Bunnies, then.”
“Now you’re not even trying.” She laughed.
“I haven’t heard you throwing out any winning suggestions,” I shot back, smirking.
Cindy thought for a moment before scribblingRabbits with Macheteson the top of our answer sheet. I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Best of both worlds,” she said with a shrug.
Maya cleared her throat. “Okay, first category. Rockin’ Ladies of the Eighties.”
“These fuckers are going down,” I told her.
Cindyand I fought our way through rounds of song lyrics, sports, politics, and general knowledge. But we knew the final lightning round was coming up and that could make or break everything.
“In third place isPeas and Carrots,in second isRabbits with Machetes, and in first place going into the lightning round is…Prima Nocta,” Maya announced, shooting a dirty look at the winning team, Stephanie and Carter. My brother cackled with laughter as he and Stephanie celebrated their victory.
Victory for the moment, anyway.
“If my calculations are right, we’re only down by three points,” Cindy said. “One question could make or break us. I’m going to need your A-game, Kane.”
“Final category,” Maya started, letting the crowd practically piss themselves with anticipation. “Countries and Capitals.”
Cindy kept her face neutral but rolled up her sleeves and kept her eyes on me. She had this and she wanted everyone at the bar to know it.
“Here we go. Name the capitals of the following five nations: Argentina, Nepal, Cameroon, Guyana, and Papua New Guinea. You’ve got three minutes,” Maya informed us. “Starting… now.”
I’d never been so pumped up about geography. Cindy scribbled down her answers in record time, and I wondered how many of those cities she’d been to. Buenos Aires, Kathmandu, Yaounde, Georgetown, and finally, Port Moresby. I’d never heard of some of these places. I couldn’t picture what they looked like. I didn’t have the faintest idea. I watched Cindy write, remembering, once again, that there was still so much about her I didn’t know. So much of her life I hadn’t been a part of.
And if she was determined to leave in a month, after the wedding, I’d never get my chance.
With the final answers in her hand, Maya stepped back to the mic.
“Wow, a lot of you need to brush up on your geography,” Maya said, in mock disappointment. “I mean, come on. Some of these answers aren’t even cities. Some of these aren’t even words.”
