Chapter 9: Rock, Paper, Scissors

Christine glanced at the carriage clock that served as a bookend on one of the shelves, the short hand indicating the eleven o' clock hour. She shook her head and rubbed it, feeling suddenly tired herself, and feeling like she had emotional whiplash. She wondered what the heck had happened in a little over twenty-four hours, from being at work and tormenting Dan with his own chauvinistic medicine, to having just been rejected by him. She wondered how such a man had that affect on her, but then, given their most recent conversation, she really didn't wonder after all, because she had experienced his authenticity for a whole day with very little interruption from his usual pretense, and she couldn't get past her voracity for more. Just forget about it, Christine, she told herself, echoing his words to her. He chose his path a long time ago, she concluded, and she was only fooling herself to expect anything different. She looked around the room at the lengths nanna Garie had gone to bring them together, who had boasted such certainty of Dan's feelings for the one woman he had brought to his personal sanctuary; but even the shrewd, discerning matron couldn't be right about everything, and the conclusion of their dinner was ample evidence.

She looked at the clock again and wondered what to do with herself now that the night had gone down in flames. She considered going to bed herself, but the thought struck her that she wasn't sure where to retire to, assuming that Dan had gone into the same room she'd napped in earlier. She decided to find nanna Garie and ask if there was a spare bedroom she could use, though just the thought of having to face anyone tonight, let alone Dan's godmother, was much more social interaction than she desired right now.

She yielded to the idea that that was her only option, so she left the library and went downstairs. As she entered the sitting room, she saw all three couples along with papa Garie grouped around the fireplace, laughing and talking easily and animatedly. Nanna Garie had evidently supplied all her guests with copious amounts of wine, and they looked settled in to count down the end of the year. She turned right into the hall and went into the kitchen, where she found the woman just finished up with the cleaning and putting together a tray of Champaign for her guests to toast the New Year. "Nanna Garie?" Christine asked, standing in the doorway.

"Christine! Ça va bien? Do you need more Champaign?" Nanna Garie indicated the bottle she was pouring with.

"No, no, thank you. It's just that, Dan...isn't feeling well, so he turned in early, and I was wondering if you had an extra room I could stay in for the night?"

"Oh, I am sorry to hear that. But he did reserve two rooms, so you can just use the bedroom I showed you earlier today. Mais, toi shouldn't go to bed just yet! Come join us."

"Oh, no, I don't think so—," Christine started backing out of the kitchen, but before she knew it, the stout woman had her by the arm and was guiding her back into the sitting room. Christine, however, had dug her heels in when she was being ushered toward the cozy group of folks.

"Really, I'd prefer to just sit over here, if you don't mind," Christine said, knowing nanna Garie wouldn't accept her retiring before midnight, she chose the next best thing: a solitary love seat in the corner by the window. It was darker there and wouldn't draw too much notice from the other guests if she kept still. Nanna Garie decided to content herself with the compromise and let her be.

So she sat down and glanced over at the merry group, then decided that the window, which showed nothing, offered a better view. She sat with her arm propped up against the back of the seat and her head resting in her palm, with her torso turned toward the window to block out any other happier view of the room. Christine sat like that for a long time and began to feel her eyelids grow heavy. Just as she finally closed them, she felt someone sit down beside her.

"Nanna Garie, I really don't want any more Champaign—," she said, too listless to turn around to face her.

"—You're in luck because I don't have any."

Christine snapped out of her dozing state at the sound of a baritone voice and turned to face the speaker. She saw a disheveled looking Dan and wondered who he had gotten into a fight with, when she realized that it was probably with her. She continued to stare at him, unable to speak, and after a while he dropped his gaze from hers, looking like he had a lot on his mind.

"So, I've been doing some thinking," he began after a time, still looking at his knees, "about what you said. And, I wanted to let you know that I'm not calling off the bet."

"Dan Fielding, you came down here to rub in my face what you already told me upstairs?" Christine hissed, disbelieving, and trying not to raise her voice to draw attention.

"I don't mean it like that," he said, finally looking up at her, "I mean, my reason for keeping it has changed, technically speaking, but I'm fairly confident I'll win."

"Why is that?" Christine eyed him with a mixture of suspicion and incredulity.

"Because," he hesitated, took her hand and placed it lightly between the both of his, "you were right. All of it," he spoke softly, looking down and studying how their hands looked together. "But I'm not perfect," he added, looking back up at her.

"You know that's not what I'm asking you to be," Christine explained, "but I'm not quite following."

"Well, that's the thing. You're asking me to be something—something that I'm, quite frankly, terrified of—but for what? This whole day you've been parading the notion of how good I would be for humanity if I became that thing," he still had a hard time saying the word 'true', "but when you told me you would have kissed me anyway, were you just saying that to drive home your point, or did you really mean...," he cleared his throat, "you really do want me?"

Christine considered his question and answered him carefully. "I've always said there was more to you—you know I've told you as much—but," she took a steadying breath, having an almost out-of-body experience for what she was about to tell Dan, "I'd be lying if I said that the man I just spent the day with isn't someone I wouldn't fall for in a second. In fact...I think I'd have a hard time being content with being 'best buds'."

Dan nodded and took a deep breath, stroking her hand a little. "But you wouldn't take any less than what you're saying I'm capable of." His question sounded more like an observation.

"Not less than one hundred percent," she agreed.

"Then sweeten the deal." Dan moved closer to her and looked at her intently with a gleam of something in his eyes.

"Huh?" asked Christine, who was both flushing at his nearness and having sudden reservations about it.

"Well, this is a big, scary step for me, and it'd be helpful to have a little bonus for the effort." His one hand stayed on hers while the other had slid up her forearm. The gleam in his eyes, she recognized now, was mischief. What had she stepped into, she wondered?

"Speak English, Dan."

"Let me win the bet."

"Why are we still talking about this bet?!"

"I told you I wasn't perfect. If you want all of me, you get the part that wants bragging rights, too."

"That's not a part of the real Dan I know!"

"Sorry—it is. Genetic defect. What can I say? I like to win."

"Dan Fielding, you little—"

"—How much do you want me? This is life-altering, y'know. People will be talking, wondering why I'm incredibly wonderful all of a sudden, wondering why I'm a one-woman man," the hand on her forearm had made it to her upper arm and he seemed to be even closer now.

"You have got to be kidding me."

"Oh, come on, Christine. We both know how we feel about each other now, so it all comes out in the wash, really."

"And what if I don't want to play along?" she demanded to know. By now his hand had found the back of her neck and he leaned in and whispered something in her ear, the sensation giving her goosebumps. He leaned back slightly to face her, much of the trouble-making gone from his face, and the glint in his eyes replaced by the warmth she had seen in them before. That was a low-blow, she thought to herself, but all she could manage to say was, "all-right," her own expression softened considerably. He grinned and held still before her, waiting for his hard-won kiss, but she didn't move.

"What are you waiting for?" he asked.

"The clock to strike midnight. If you get bragging rights then at least I get to buffer it by saying it was simply a routine New Year's kiss."

"But, if you'll remember, I wagered that you'd like it, too. How do you get around that little detail?"

"Well...I don't know. I guess it's not a foolproof plan, but at least it'll stem a little bit of the uproar at work."

Dan shook his head and squinted over at the grandfather clock in the corner. "There's still nine minutes 'til midnight, what are we going to do until then?" he asked a little impatiently.

"I don't know...Rock, Paper, Scissors?" she suggested.

He snorted. "Um, no. Here, I have a better idea." And he moved his arm that had been slowly making its way around her, cinching her close to him so that her head rested on his shoulder and under his jawline. He drew his other arm snugly around her and she responded by wrapping her arms around him. "There," he said, "now I've got you pinned so you won't be tempted to attack me before the appropriate time."

"Thanks, Dan." And they sat there, wrapped up in each others' arms with little talk; their long embrace speaking better than words for what they wanted to say. It was very peaceful and exhilarating at the same time, and when the small group by the hearth had started to count down the last ten seconds before the new year, they sat quietly and watched, silently counting down to a very different year than the one gone by. Christine pushed herself slowly up from Dan and he loosened his hold on her. As the household sang Auld Lang Syne, she looked intently into his eyes, and he was suddenly aware of how humbled he felt for her to let him win, in so many more ways than the bet. She wished him a Happy New Year, but when he opened his mouth to try to do the same, words left him, so she pulled him down to herself and filled the void with soft, tender kisses. When he finally overcame the initial daze of the event, he returned the affection with enthusiasm. They parted after some unknown period of time, though the singing had stopped and most everyone had retired to their respective chambers for the night. Dan gazed deeply into Christine's eyes, quietly stroking her hair, when he finally spoke.

"So...wanna have sex?" he asked point-blank.

"Dan...," it was dawning on Christine that she did, in fact, get one hundred percent of Dan, Eros and all; but like he said, it would all come out in the wash, because now it was all for her. "Why don't we go and finish our dessert, instead?"

"Did you say 'dessert in bed'?"

"Dan."

"Can't blame a guy for trying."

He walked her to her room door and kissed her goodnight. And kissed her good night some more. And a little more after that. Until she politely, sweetly closed the door on his lips. She locked her door, just in case, and he left his door ajar, just in case. The fire in the hearth downstairs eventually diminished into smoldering coals, the effervescence in the scattered glasses of leftover Champaign fizzled out, and the New Year settled silently, favorably into place.