He laughed. “Believe me, I love happy endings. And I never said it was wrong. It’s sweet, actually.”
“Only you could make ‘sweet’ sound like an insult.”
“It wasn’t an insult, I promise. OK, let me think about this. Which chick movie is your favorite…I’d say Titanic, but I bet you hate that he dies.”
“He might not die!” she exclaimed. “We didn’t see him die, not exactly, so he might have lived!”
“Um, I think death was strongly implied.”
She jerked her chin at me. “Guess again.”
I thought for a minute. “Casablanca?”
“Nope. Too dreary at the end. But I do love that movie.”
“Is it some sort of Disney princess movie?” I asked, thinking that her taste might run close to my nieces’. Their favorite color was pink, too.
“It does have a princess in it, but it’s not a Disney movie.” She clapped her hands gleefully when I remained silent. “Haha, I stumped you!”
“I’m not stumped. Just give me a minute.” I pulled into the parking lot of the banquet hall and circled around to valet so Claire would only have to walk about ten feet, under a canopy, to the door. “OK, it’s not a Disney movie, but it has a princess and a happy ever after. Aha!” Putting the car into park, I grinned at her. “The Princess Bride!”
Her face fell. “Dammit! I thought I had you.”
God, she was so fucking cute. “You do have me. For a whole three hours.”
Her smile returned, a little smug this time. “During which you will not make fun of my taste in movies, clothes, colors, or anything else. You will say only nice things, so everyone will think you’re crazy about me.”
I couldn’t resist. “As you wish.”
* * *
Inside the hall, we checked Claire’s coat and found our place card, which indicated we were at table 12. I let Claire lead the way, admiring her ass in front of me. Suddenly she stopped and turned around, and I thought for sure she’d caught me looking at her butt, but instead of scolding me she put a hand on my chest and whispered in my ear, “Twenty bucks says that’s the singles table.” She nodded toward a table of awkward, miserable-looking people.
No one was talking, and everyone was staring at their phones, save the one guy who was making some sort of swan out of his napkin. “Wow,” I said. “I should have charged you more.”
She gave me her favorite dirty look and poked me in the chest. “Behave. Hey, what’s your last name, anyway? I never asked, and I’ll have to introduce you.”
“Woodcock.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“What? It’s a real last name.”
“But is it yours?”
It wasn’t, and I’d promised not to lie to her, but this was a hard line for me. I never used my last name.
Plus…Woodcock. Come on, that’s fucking awesome.
“It is tonight,” I told her.
She sighed. “OK, whatever. I just hope they don’t ask to see your license.”
“If they did, I’d show it to them.”
“You have a fake license?” She held up one hand and shook her head. “No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”
“Good. You ready for the show?”
Her face paled a bit. “I have stage fright.”
I took her hand and kissed the back of it just for fun, pleased with the way her cheeks went pink. “Break a leg, darling.”
We found our table and Claire made the introductions. Although there may have been a raised eyebrow or two at my last name, Claire’s co-workers were too polite to laugh or request proof. After shaking hands and saying hello, I asked her if I could get her something to drink. She was perched ramrod on the edge of her chair, twisting her fingers in her lap. “Yes, wine,” she said. “A big one.”
“One big wine coming up. Red?” I guessed.
She nodded gratefully.
I turned to the rest of the table. “Anyone else need a drink?”
One other woman said she’d take a glass of wine too, so I stood in line at the bar and brought two glasses of cabernet back to the table.
“Don’t you want anything?” Claire asked when I sat down.
“I’m driving.” I couldn’t tell her I didn’t drink, since that was probably something she’d know if we’d been dating for a few months.
She nodded and took a few healthy swallows of wine. “Thanks for this.”
“My pleasure.” I lowered my voice and leaned over to whisper in her ear, one arm draped across the back of her chair. Her hair smelled amazing. I wanted to swim in it. “You doing OK?”
“Yes,” she whispered back, tugging on one earlobe.
“Are they all looking at us?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Sweet nothing, sweet nothing, sweet nothing.”
She giggled. “Thanks.”
Reluctantly, I sat up straight again…but I left my arm across her chair.
“So, Theo,” said Fran, one of the women at our table. “Did Claire tell you about the art projects she had the Girl Scouts do for Operation Gratitude?”
I looked at Claire for my cue, and her cheeks went pink. “The greeting cards and bracelets in the care packages,” she said, a little too loudly. “For soldiers overseas?”
“Oh, right! She did.” I shook my head like I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten. “She’s so giving, sometimes I lose track of all her good deeds.”