Confetti Hearts (Confetti Hitched, #1)(79)

“Joe and I are one team,” he exclaims, sticking his hand up like he’s at school.

“Really?” I groan. “Surely, you’d like someone else? My knowledge is linked to marital law, all romantic pop culture of the last century, and how many sugar-coated almonds I can fit in my mouth in one go.” He stares at me. “It’s twenty-five if you’re curious.”

“I wasn’t but thank you for enlightening me anyway. Come on, chop-chop.”

He stands up and drifts over to where Erica is setting up the board as if she’s some snake charmer calling to him. He arches one eyebrow at me, and I groan and stand up. “Really?” I say again, but he ignores me, too focused on getting us set up.

I sit beside him, watching as he chats with Erica. His face is alight with enthusiasm, and it’s unexpectedly endearing. How did I not know this man?

Eventually, we settle down. Some members of the group—the sensible ones, in my opinion—have opted to stay at the bar. Paula, the head bridesmaid has been co-opted into the duty of question master and doesn’t look any more enthusiastic than I feel. The teams are Erica and Ryan, Frances and her husband Simon, Noah and Violet, who’ve put the demon twins to bed, and another married couple called Melissa and David. I’d noticed them at the ceremony because they were hissing at each other like a couple of feral geese. Unfortunately, time doesn’t seem to have improved their marital relations, because they’re glaring at each other as they sit down.

“Right, does everyone know the rules?” Erica says, an evangelical light gleaming in her eyes that tells me she might be a woman after my husband’s heart. Everyone choruses agreement. Erica looks at me and raises her eyebrow.

“Oh yes,” I mumble. “I totally know the way to play.”

I don’t. When my family plays it at Christmas, I’ve been on the egg nog for a few hours, so my recollections are hazy. I do, however, remember my sister telling me I was a moron a few times when I cost her the game. Lachlan is arranging his cheese wheel neatly. He’d fit in with my family at Christmas.

Paula asks the first question, and I find out just how competitive my husband is. The answer is a lot.

He sits forward, listening intently as the questions are asked. He does make a token gesture of looking to me for my contribution, but as he already knows all the answers, it’s not needed. Also, it’s good for our team points, because I totally thought Theresa May was a soap actress.

I take a sip of my drink, watching the other couples. It’s interesting how they approach the game. I’d thought Frances would steer the ship, but unexpectedly she defers to her husband, and there’s even a smile on her lips as they look at each other. I narrow my eyes. Maybe there’s more to their marriage than I thought. Erica and Ryan are clumsily answering questions over the top of each other and getting in a muddle while Noah and Violet go the other way and constantly defer to each other, which is probably extending the game's life by a few hours.

“No, you answer, Violet,” Noah says.

“But I don’t know the answer.”

“I’m sure you do, darling. Just give it a try. Think hard.”

“Oh, for the love of god,” Melissa snaps, downing her drink in one. “Do you know the answer or not, Violet?”

Frances’s eyes narrow. Apparently, only she is allowed to criticise her daughter-in-law. I sit up, suddenly interested. This could get juicy.

“I’m sure Violet has more important things to think about than who painted The Last Supper,” Frances snaps.

“I don’t know the answer either, but I’m pretty sure this party could be an inspiration,” I whisper to Lachlan.

Violet looks flabbergasted. “Thank you,” she says to her mother-in-law.

“Of course, I can’t possibly think what those things are,” Frances continues. “But they’re undoubtedly important to her.”

Violet rolls her eyes, and I suppress a strong case of the giggles, which isn’t helped when Lachlan catches my eyes. His own are brimming with laughter, and I look down at the table in a determined way until my humour has settled.

“Alright?” he whispers.

“Don’t talk to me, or I’ll laugh,” I warn him.

He chuckles, earning a glare from Melissa, who appears to be a gamezilla in the making, as well as being deeply pissed off at her husband and drinking heavily.

“You’re enjoying the people more than the game, aren’t you?” he whispers, and I look at him, startled.

“How did you guess?”

“You missed our last question because you were trying to listen to Melissa and David argue.”

“Oh god, sorry.”

He gives me a lopsided grin. “No, I’m sorry. I get a bit carried away with games. It’s not much fun for you. Let’s go and have a drink with the others instead.”

“Are you kidding? We’re on track to win this if Melissa and David’s marriage confrontation derails them.”

“What?”

“We’re on the same team, partner. Your glory is mine. I know I’ve not been much help,” I say quickly. “But reflected glory is still relevant.”

“Of course.” His mouth twitches as if he wants to laugh, but then it fades away as he looks at me. “I like being a team with you,” he says almost impulsively.