Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
We take our places and make it through the first game, which Clarke wins but not by much over Riggs.
We refresh beer and wine and start the second game. Conversation flows easily, but Riggs and I don’t really talk to each other. He addresses Aaron and Clarke, and I do the same. This is easily handled by never asking a question or making a statement that would encourage the other to respond directly, and we keep our low-level animosity secret.
When we’re halfway through the second game, Aaron dramatically rubs at his temple and groans. Clarke’s eyes immediately move to him and she frowns. “Another headache?”
He nods, grimacing as if the movement pains him. “Do you mind grabbing the Excedrin Migraine from our bathroom? It’s in the top left drawer.”
“Of course,” she says and jumps up.
The minute she’s out of sight, Aaron snickers at his deception. “I’ve been faking headaches for the last four days just for this moment.”
I glance at Riggs and see he’s as impressed as I am by Aaron’s foresight.
As planned, we move as quickly as possible. Riggs carefully lifts the Scrabble board from the table and I hold out the box it came in. He slides the tiles from the board slowly so they don’t make too much noise and I shove the box under the nearby love seat.
Aaron pulls another Scrabble board with tiles that spell out a variety of words from under the couch. These tiles don’t move, though, as he glued everything in place.
He sets it on the coffee table and rotates it once so the words face Clarke’s place. I take a second to admire it—a hodgepodge of words like worm and chill and yap—but within all those words, spelled out horizontally and in sequential order, are the words “will you marry me.”
Riggs inspects the board. “Very nice.”
“Pinterest,” Aaron says proudly.
“What the fuck is Pinterest?” Riggs asks in a low voice, and I choke back a laugh.
But Clarke is walking back into the living room, and we all snap our mouths shut. She cuts right into the kitchen. “They weren’t in the left drawer, by the way. Found them under the sink. I’m going to grab you some water.”
Riggs, Aaron, and I exchange looks, all three of us having a hard time not smiling.
We go blank faced, though, when Clarke reenters the living room.
“Why so quiet?” she asks, moving to Aaron’s side and handing him two Excedrin and the bottle of water.
“Just giving deference to Aaron’s headache,” Riggs says quickly.
Clarke shoots him a sweet smile and moves back to her side of the table. Aaron deftly drops the pills to the rug beside him and by the time Clarke is taking her seat facing Aaron, he’s pretending to swallow them with some water.
He caps the bottle. “Thanks, babe.”
Clarke is obviously worried and studies him. “We should make a doctor’s appointment. These headaches have been going on for a week.”
“Four days,” he counters and nods to the board. “I think it’s your turn.”
“I’m serious, Aaron.” She doesn’t even look down at the marriage proposal before her. “You can’t ignore this.”
“Why not?” he asks pointedly, nodding once again. “You’re ignoring the game.”
Clarke rolls her eyes. “You can’t seriously compare repetitive migraines with playing Scrabble.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Aaron mutters. “Will you just play? I promise I’ll call tomorrow and make an appointment.”
“Fine,” she snaps, but she wears a triumphant smile as she looks down at the board.
We all wait silently, and my skin prickles with excitement for the second it dawns on her.
Clarke frowns as she looks at the board, then looks to her tiles.
Back to the board, and her frown deepens. She gives a tiny shake of her head, as if trying to clear it. It’s obvious none of the words are registering, but she knows this isn’t the same game she left a few minutes ago.
And then she actually studies her tiles, trying to figure out a word she can create.
Her attention goes back to the board, and I almost feel sorry for her apparent confusion. I sneak a peek at Aaron, who’s leaning forward expectantly, waiting for that moment she sees what’s before her.
“Did something…” Clarke begins, then stops.
She glances up, first to Aaron whose expression is bland, then to me, then to Riggs. We stare back at her, but my facial muscles are quivering as I try to maintain an air of nonchalance.
Once again, she looks down to the board, and I can see her starting at the top and working her way down through all the words. Almost as if a spotlight is cast on the four most important words, understanding dawns as she takes in Aaron’s message.
Will.
You.
Marry.
Me.
Clarke gasps and her eyes shoot up and lock with Aaron’s across the table. He grins and holds up a ring between his thumb and forefinger. It’s a stunner. He showed it to me when he bought it a few weeks ago, and in true Aaron style, it’s ridiculously large and sparkly.