Not Quite A Bride by Kirsten Sawyer Page B

over? Choke on bread? I look helplessly at Justin.
    â€œSo,” Justin says and clears his throat, “Brad, what’s new in the world of extreme sports?”
    Oh, hooray! Such a more brilliant icebreaker than me needing the Heimlich maneuver.
    â€œNothing,” Brad replies.
    And then there is silence again and we’re back where we began. Justin looks back at me with an “I tried” expression.
    Okay, I guess it’s my turn to try.
    â€œClaire, Brad says you love this place. What do you recommend?”
    Justin gives me an approving smile and nod.
    â€œEverything’s good,” she says.
    And back to silence.
    â€œOh, okay, everything.” I pick up my menu and study it.
    This is going to be such a long evening.
    The rest of the night drags on like the beginning. Justin and I bust our asses to come up with topics of conversation and Brad and Claire rebuff them with monosyllabic answers. It is horribly awkward and uncomfortable. We make it through the main course and even I, the queen of chocolate, am willing to forgo dessert to get out of there. So when the waiter asks if we would like to see a dessert menu, I begin to shake my head no, assuming Brad and Claire are having as horrible a time as we are and are as eager to get out, but Brad says, “Yes, please,” before I can shake my head no. I shoot a panicked look at Justin. Why is Brad trying to extend the torture? I mean, he is—or at least was—a fun person ... and believe me, fun people definitely know that there isn’t anything at all fun going on right now.
    â€œMolly never says no to dessert,” Brad informs Justin.
    â€œHaha, I know. Where does she put it all?” Justin replies, trying to be nice.
    â€œSeems like you should know the answer to that,” Brad answers coolly.
    Ouch! What does that even mean? It didn’t even make sense, but the way he said it was so harsh. I look at Justin, who looks just as stung as I feel. I take his hand above the table.
    â€œJustin is blind to my potbelly—right, sweetheart?” I say to him stupidly since I don’t even have a potbelly ... I honestly don’t even know where I put it all.
    â€œYou don’t have a potbelly,” Justin says, clearly starting to get annoyed with Brad.
    â€œWhat a good boyfriend.” I smile like an even bigger idiot and squeeze his hand, then look across the table at Brad and Claire like a jackass. Brad is looking back at us with a death glare and Claire is looking at her dessert menu as if she was alone at the table.
    We finally get our desserts down, Brad has a refill on his coffee, and the check is delivered to our table. There is that weird second when the check is a landmine, and then Justin picks it up and says to Brad, “Want to just split it in half?” Justin is such a classy gentleman.
    â€œActually, Molly had wine,” Claire says ... it’s one of the first things she’s said all night.
    All three of us snap our heads up and look at her in shock. If I hadn’t just sat through this dinner I might have burst out laughing. Any other person in the world would have said it as a joke, but it is clear that Claire is serious.
    â€œOkay,” Justin says. “Would it be okay to split it and we’ll leave ten dollars more tip on our bill?”
    â€œNo,” Claire says, “that will make us look cheap to the waiter.”
    I think at this point my jaw drops open a little. She is unbelievable.
    â€œHow would you like to handle it?” Justin asks. It amazes me that he can still be polite to her.
    â€œWe’ll just have to split it down the middle and you can give us ten dollars in cash.”
    â€œDone,” Justin says as he slaps the bill in front of her.
    I’ve never seen Justin pushed this far before and I can sense that he is nearing some sort of snapping point.
    â€œWell,” I say, “it was wonderful seeing you guys. We really have to do