For The One(86)

“This is our lucky night! Red is my favorite color,” I said. “What’s yours, Wil?”

“All of them,” he answered with a straight face.

“Hmm…must be an artist thing, I guess.”

He looked at the place settings. “There are no forks.”

“We’re at Medieval Times. We eat like the medievals did,” joked Adam.

“This meal and style of eating is completely inauthentic. As is the term ‘medievals,’” William said. “I’m not going to eat with my hands.”

“How is it not authentic?” I asked.

“Well, look at the menu. Herbed potatoes and tomato bisque. Potatoes and tomatoes came from the New World. They were not available for European people to consume during the Middle Ages. And we won’t even discuss the Pepsi.”

Adam laughed behind his hand and Mia smacked his arm without even looking at him. “I’ll ask for a fork for you, William. But I won’t ask for one for Adam. He eats like a Neanderthal anyway.”

“Hey,” Adam replied, feigning irritation before letting a grin slip through.

I took this opportunity to ask about something I’d been curious about. “Do you two even get a chance to go out on dates much with your busy schedules?”

The two of them looked at each other and Mia smiled ruefully. “No, not really. We’re like an old married couple already.”

“Which is why we should just set the date already,” Adam said.

She rolled her eyes. “You and your one-track mind. What difference does it make?”

“We’ll see, won’t we?” he said, shooting her a mysterious look. “When I get to name that date.”

“In your dreams.”

Puzzled by their cryptic conversation, I looked to William for guidance, but he wasn’t listening. He was casting a baleful eye over the arena, particularly the horses and riders who had entered to “warm up” by performing various feats. He muttered repeatedly how the knights’ games and contests were inauthentic. He used that word a lot.

We were served our meals—delicious, roasted chicken with the afore-mentioned anachronistic potatoes, and even a yummy baked apple tart for dessert.

After we ate, the knights started their tournament games in order to please the “king” and the “princess,” who sat high on a platform above the arena. William critiqued the heraldry, the weapons and especially the knights’ “sham armor,” saying, “If I wore armor like that to a tournament, I’d be brain dead or physically disabled in minutes.”

After the dishes were cleared, Adam and Mia sat with their heads together in their own private conversation. I shamelessly attempted to eavesdrop on them. Again I picked up the word “bet,” which was followed by a furtive glance in the direction of William and me. That’s when I put it together.

“Oh. My. Goddess,” I exclaimed out loud the minute the conclusion jumped into my head. “You two made a bet about us, didn’t you?”

William’s head wheeled around and he looked at me. “A bet? What kind of bet?”

They didn’t even have to answer my question. I could tell by the way Adam was looking away as if I hadn’t said a thing, and by the fact that Mia was turning as red as a non-medieval era tomato. I was right.

“A bet?” Adam finally looked at me and said. “That’s silly. What kind of bet would we make about you?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Well, I’m guessing that whoever wins gets to set the wedding date…and that you’re betting about William and me sleeping together.”

Adam’s reserve slipped—just for a moment—but it was Mia’s reaction that gave me all the information I needed. Her eyes widened and she had guilty written all over her face.

“What?” William said, shooting out of his seat to loom over the rest of us. He glared at his cousin. “Is that why you’ve been giving me helpful advice? You had a motive behind it?”

Adam held up an open hand to his cousin. “Sit down, man. We can talk about this later. The princess is about to get captured by the bad guy.”

But instead, William grabbed a plastic toy sword—I had no idea where it came from—and pointed it at his cousin. Adam’s eyes widened, but he grabbed the end of the sword and shoved it away. “Hey! Point that thing someplace else.”

The tip of the play sword then returned right back in Adam’s face. “Tell me the truth…what was the bet about?” William demanded of his cousin.

Adam rolled his eyes. “I’m your ride home. Don’t piss me off or I’ll leave you here, stranded.”