Mushroom risotto.
Keira watches me curiously. Emma smiles. Lily has this soft, emotional look on her face that makes me want to disappear under the couch.
“Two for two! Excellent start,” Maggie says. “Current score: Alistair and Keira, one point. Callum and Jane, zero. Lachlan and Emma, one. Nate and Lily, one. Mary and Finn, two.”
Callum mutters something about “unfair disadvantages caused by pregnancy.”
“What’s your partner’s worst childhood memory?”
My pulse spikes.
I have no idea what Finn’s answer could be. None. He never talks about his childhood. It’s forbidden territory. A locked room I’ve never dared enter.
I shoot him a desperate look.
His face remains unreadable, but I can see the tension in his shoulders, the tightness in his jaw.
“Alistair and Keira first,” Maggie decides.
Alistair writes quickly, confidently.
“The day her father sold her favorite pony without warning her.”
Keira lifts her notebook.
The day my dad sold Buttercup.
“One point!”
“It was traumatic,” Keira says. “I was eight. I refused to speak to him for two weeks.”
“Callum and Jane?”
Callum looks deeply stressed.
“Uh… when she failed her driving test?”
Jane glares at him.
“Callum!”
“What was it then?” he asks, confused.
“The day my hamster died,” Jane sighs, showing her notebook. “Mr. Whiskers. I cried for a month.”
“How was I supposed to know that?” Callum protests.
“Maybe by listening when I tell you things about my life?”
“Zero points,” Maggie says. “Lachlan and Emma?”
“When her brother cut her hair while she was sleeping,” Lachlan says.
Emma grimaces at the memory.
“I was six. He shaved half my head. I had to wear hats for six months.”
She lifts her notebook.
