We stare at each other for a few minutes, her eyes narrowing with each second that passed.
“You don’t have a plan, do you?” she finally asks.
I should tell her to move away from the knives.
“Um, not exactly. I mean, I know what I want to say. I just don’t have all of the details yet,” I admit.
“Well, I’d help you, but I kind of want to punch you in the face. You’re on your own with this one,” she tells me, throwing the towel she dried the dishes with onto the counter. “Now I’m going to have to tell everyone that the plan is off. It was the one time I was looking forward to wearing a shirt that Drew picked out.”
I feel bad that Liz has spent all this time helping me plan something amazing for Claire. At the time, we had both agreed it would be awesome if our friends were there to see the proposal, and Drew of course wanted everyone to wear matching shirts that Claire would see right after I proposed. They were pretty great shirts and that is the one thing I will regret not doing, but I know this is the right decision.
“So does that mean no Gavin either?” she asks as she leans her hip against the counter.
“No, no Gavin. As cute as it would be for him to be the one to hand her the ring, I need to do this by myself. It was just the two of us the day I met her, and I want it to be just the two of us when I ask her to spend the rest of her life with me,” I explain.
Liz let out a great big sigh and finally concedes.
“Alright, I get it. Your ball is safe from my wrath. But just so you know, I’m going to hold this against you for a long time,” she tells me with a pat on my back.
“I wouldn’t expect any less. I just need you to do one more little favor for me.”
“What now? My first born, a pint of blood, one of my limbs? I’ve already given so much!” she wails in mock horror.
“Oh quit being such a drama queen. I already told you I appreciated your help so cut the shit out. I just need you to get Claire out of the store for about an hour. Can you do that?” I ask.
“No problem. I have this raging yeast infection from having too much sex in our hot tub. I’ll tell Claire she needs to come to the pharmacy with me and help me pick out the right YEAST INFECTION cream,” she says, putting the emphasis on the words that make my skin crawl.
“Liz, too much information,” I say with a grimace.
“But it’s really yeasty. I could make a loaf of bread with this shit.”
“OH MY GOD! Cut it out. I’m going to puke,” I tell her.
Liz laughs as she walks around the counter to go out front and talk to Claire.
“Payback is a bitch. And YEAST INFECTIONS really itch,” she yells back to me with another laugh.
I try to block the last few minutes of conversation from my mind as I get to work planning how this will go down. Claire sticks her head into the kitchen doorway a little while later to tell me she was running to the store with Liz. I can’t help but laugh a little when she whispers, “She’s got an issue. And she needs my help. It’s…an issue. I’ll be back soon.”
Right after she disappears from sight, Liz pops her head in to give me one more parting shot.
“Say ‘bacterial vaginosis is delicious’. SAY IT!”
~
I honestly don’t remember a time when I’ve been this nervous. I would have taken a minute to run to the bathroom and throw up the contents of my stomach, but I just heard the bell over the door of the shop ring and knew Claire was back.
I take my place at one end of the kitchen island and wait.
Claire walks through the doorway seconds later and stops, a look of confusion on her face as she takes in the sight before her.
“Um, why are there red Solo cups all over the counter?” she asks.
“I thought we could take a trip down memory lane and play a little beer pong,” I tell her with a grin.
She walks further into the room.
“Nice sentiment and all but I don’t I want our child to be born a pot head and a drunk.”
I laugh and pick up the empty milk jug for her to see.
“Technically, this is milk pong.”
She laughs when she gets to the other end of the island and glances into the cup closest to her.
“Ahhh gotcha. If I remember correctly, I kicked your ass the last time we played,” she says with a smile.
“Oh I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure all of the ass kicking was done by me. You sucked at beer pong.”
“Lies! Not only were Liz and I the lap dance champions in our dorm, we were also beer pong champions,” she told me with a satisfied smirk.
“Wait, what?”
She laughs again and shakes her head at me. “I know I told you this story.”
“No, I’m pretty sure I would remember every part of a story that involved you and lap dancing,” I argue.
“Liz and I used to do lap dances on each other for free beers at the college bars. I was a little bendier then so I was usually the one on top,” she says nonchalantly.
Claire, bendy, girl lap dances…my penis exploded. That JUST happened.
“Promise me I will get to see this someday very soon,” I tell her.