Till Summer Do Us Part(109)

“A naked massage, where my nipples get all slippery.”

My brows raise. “And who do you plan on checking that bucket list item off with?”

She smirks up at me. “Was hoping with my fake husband.”

“Damn right.”

“We have about five minutes left,” Sanders calls out.

“Shit, this has a time limit? He didn’t say that in the beginning, did he?” I say.

“I don’t think so. Okay, we need to focus. Umm, let’s go with tequila.”

“Why tequila?”

“Umm…I don’t know. This is where you need to lean on your improv.”

“Okay, how about…we got drunk off margaritas on our first date and ended up riding the subway all the way to Coney Island and back, chatting the whole time.”

“Aww, that’s kind of cute.”

“It is.”

“Okay, and then maybe…some prickly pear, because our relationship has been prickly,” she says.

“Ooo, good one.”

“Then we add some triple sec and lime juice. I think Mika always puts that in margaritas.”

“He does. And some sweet-and-sour mix because we are sweet and sour.”

“Love it.” We circle the items on our menu. “Should we add strawberries,” she asks, “like a few crushed on the bottom?”

“I’m not opposed to it.”

“Then let’s do it.”

Together we walk up to the bar, hand one of the bartenders our drink, and he gets to work while we crush up some strawberries and put them at the bottom of three glasses.

“We need a name,” I say.

“How about the Prickly Pair, but we spell it p-a-i-r?”

“Nice play on words, babe.”

“Thank you.” She kisses my cheek, and I smirk.

“Fuck, we’re cute.”

“I could not agree more.”

The bartender pours our drink into the glasses, and it comes out a light pink color that’s actually pretty cool. Then we set our drinks on the judges’ table, fill out a name card, and go back to our table.

We both take a seat, and I loop my arm over Scottie’s shoulder. “What do you think? Do we have a chance?”

She looks around at the competition. “I don’t know. Brad’s using a smoker with his wife, and Duncan rimmed his glass with something. Looks like…crushed-up graham cracker. Should we have done that?”

“I have no idea.”

“Margaritas are usually lined with something.”

“Yeah, but I hate that, don’t you?”

“Despise it actually. I don’t want a mouthful of salt as I drink my drink.”

I turn to her. “Scottie, are we…are we meant to be?”

She chuckles and says, “I think we might be.”

That makes me smile. I press a soft kiss to her lips just as the judges come out and Sanders introduces them as if we don’t already know them. It’s Ellison and the keeper of the quarters at the front desk. Sanders takes a seat as well but lets us know he’s just trying them in case there’s a tie.

We all wait patiently and quietly as the judges go through each drink, taking sips and making notes on a notepad. Their faces reveal nothing. They remain stone-faced the entire time, indicating zero favoritism.

So when Sanders stands with the results, we truly have no idea who the winner will be.

I glance over at Chad, who’s rubbing his hands together like the tool that he is. Brad is rocking back and forth. Duncan has his fingers crossed in front of him. And Finky’s holding hands with his wife and covering his eyes at the same time.

Clearing his throat, Sanders addresses the room. “Thank you for all your entries. There was quite the variety up there tonight and some real innovation, but there was a clear-cut winner.” He looks over his shoulder and says, “Drumroll please.”

Ellison and Quarters both drum their hands on the table in front of them, and then Sanders holds up his hand to stop them.

“The winner of tonight’s mixology competition is…”

I hold my breath, hoping we can go three for three.

“The Prickly Pair.”

I leap up into the air, toss Scottie over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and start spinning her around while I whoop it up. She laughs the entire time, and I bring her up to the front, where we address the room.

I set her down and keep her close as I say, “I’d like to thank my brother, who couldn’t be here tonight, for being the best bartender I know. Without him, we would have forgotten about the sweet-and-sour mixture, which would have destroyed the overall flavor.” I press my hand to my chest. “I would also like to thank my beautiful wife for being the prickly pear in this relationship. Like I always say to her, she’s prickly, but sweet like a pear. Babe, do you have any words?” I gesture to her to take the floor, and for a second, I think she’s going to back down, but to my surprise, she steps up.

“Huge shout-out to our first date, where we got drunk off margaritas and rode the subway all the way to Coney Island and back. I knew that night that if this man would ride on a subway with me for thirty-one stops while street performers did the Macarena in front of us, then he was a keeper.”

I lean in and say, “Our first dance was the Macarena.”