Page 17 of The Love Clause

"Basics like your favorite color and middle name, not whatever random questions she's about to throw at us!"

Before Elliot can respond, Melissa is already directing everyone to sit in a circle of couches and chairs arranged aroundthe fireplace. Elliot guides me to a love seat barely big enough for the two of us, forcing us to sit with our thighs pressed together. The contact is distracting in a way I don't want to examine too closely.

"I'll ask each person a question about their partner," Melissa explains, holding up index cards. "Your partner will write down their answer, and we'll see if you match! Simple and fun!"

Simple. Fun.Both words that feel like cruel jokes right now.

"Let's start with..." Her eyes scan the circle before landing on us with predatory delight. "The newly engaged couple! Elliot and Josie, right?"

Of course we're first. The universe has a sick sense of humor.

"Josie," Melissa begins, "what is Elliot's biggest pet peeve?"

Oh god. We never discussed this. I glance at Elliot, who's already writing on the small whiteboard we've been given. His face reveals nothing, which isn't helpful at all.

"Um..." I rack my brain for something plausible. "I'd say…people who don't use coasters?"

A few chuckles ripple through the group. Elliot turns his board: "Inefficiency."

"Ooh, not a match!" Melissa says with far too much enthusiasm. "Elliot, your turn. What would Josie say is her favorite way to relax?"

Elliot's expression tightens almost imperceptibly. We definitely didn't cover this.

"She enjoys…walking dogs," he says after a beat too long.

I reveal my hastily scribbled answer: "Painting."

"Another miss!" Melissa seems positively gleeful. "Let's try once more. Josie, where was your first kiss with Elliot?"

My mind goes completely blank. We have a fake backstory, but we never specified this detail. I look at Elliot in panic, and something in his eyes shifts—a slight softening, a silent message I somehow understand.

"Actually," I say, turning back to Melissa with newfound confidence, "I'm not surprised we're bombing this game. Elliot and I are still learning about each other. That's what makes it exciting, right? He thought I relaxed by walking dogs, but he doesn't realize that's work for me, not relaxation. And I didn't know his biggest pet peeve is inefficiency, though it makes perfect sense given how he organizes his sock drawer by color AND texture."

A warm laugh travels through the group. I'm on a roll now, the familiar feeling of improvising my way through an uncomfortable situation taking over.

"Our first kiss, though," I continue, glancing at Elliot with what I hope looks like affection, "was in Central Park, after our third date. He took me to this fancy restaurant where I couldn't pronounce anything on the menu, and I was so nervous I spilled wine on his ridiculously expensive shirt. Instead of getting mad, he just took off his tie, rolled up his sleeves, and suggested we ditch the place for hot dogs in the park."

Elliot reveals his board, which simply says "Central Park." The group applauds the match.

"I knew you'd remember the location, if not the exact circumstances," Elliot says, playing along perfectly, his voice warm in a way I haven't heard before. "Though you're conveniently omitting how you laughed so hard at my wine-stained shirt that you snorted soda through your nose."

"Elliot!" I gasp in mock outrage, slapping his arm lightly. "That was supposed to be our secret!"

The room erupts in laughter, and I feel the tension easing. Elliot's hand finds mine, his fingers interlacing with mine in a gesture that feels surprisingly natural.

"I think what Josie's trying to say," he adds, addressing the group but looking at me, "is that we're still discovering things about each other. She brings…spontaneity to my life. I bring..."

"Coasters," I finish for him, which earns another round of laughter.

"They say opposites attract," Harrison chimes in, looking delighted by our exchange. "And I must say, you two certainly seem to balance each other beautifully."

The game continues, moving on to other couples who fare much better than we did. Elliot keeps hold of my hand, occasionally rubbing his thumb across my knuckles in a way that seems unconscious. It's distracting and comforting all at once.

When the game finally ends (with Harrison and his late wife posthumously declared the winners based on his perfect recall of her preferences), there's a general movement toward the dining room for dinner. As we stand, my foot catches on the plush carpet—or maybe it's my own nerves making me clumsy—and I stumble forward.

Elliot reacts instantly, his hands catching my waist. But instead of just steadying me, the momentum carries me backward, directly into his lap as he sits back down on the love seat.

Suddenly I'm sitting across Elliot's thighs, his arms around me, our faces inches apart. The room seems to fade away, narrowing to just the startled blue of his eyes, the slight part of his lips, the unexpected strength in his arms.

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