Somehow, she doesn’t believe that. He won’t answer her questions, but maybe his horrible poker face will give him away.

“I heard someone Register me,” she says, studying him closely.

Daniel falls onto his back, hands covering his face in a clear sign of guilt.

Her hands curl into fists. “What do you know about this?” Lynell asks, pulling long breaths through her nose to keep the anger from rising.

“I don’t know what you heard but . . . wait.” He removes his hands and sits up again, turning to look at Lynell. “How did you hear him Register you?”

Lynell blinks at him. “I . . .”

“Lynell.”

“I was there when he did . . . I was in line.” She looks down, resting her forehead on her knees.

“In line . . . doing what?” When Lynell doesn’t answer, Daniel surges forward and grabs her shoulders. She looks up, and Daniel’s nose is close to touching her own. His face is wild with emotion. “Lyn, what were you doing there?”

She leans back and rubs the palms of her hands against her legs. “I was going to Register Alan.”

Daniel’s mouth drops open and he shakes his head, pulling his hands away from her. “What?”

Her mouth feels dry. “I was . . .” The words don’t come. What is there to say?

“How, Lynell? You only get one Registration.”

“Daniel . . .” she reaches out to touch him, but he pulls away, standing quickly and starting to pace the tiny compartment. “Daniel . . . please.” She leans forward on the bed, and he turns to her, eyes so wide she recoils, afraid he’s going to attack.

“How were you going to Register Alan? You already used your Registration.”

His voice is low and steady, and she wishes he were screaming, not looking at her with this cold, calculating expression. She turns away, unable to hold his stare.

“Lynell.”

After a long moment and a deep breath, she looks up, meets Daniel’s eyes, and mutters, “I didn’t do it. I never used my Registration.”

DAY 2

“Wed. That’s twenty-one points. And incredibly relevant,” Lynell had said, smirking at her new husband. Her face was resting against her hand, elbow propped on the pillow. The windows were open, allowing a perfect view to the city beyond.

“What? That’s at most seven points.” Daniel reached out to stop Lynell from adding twenty-one to her score on the little scratch paper the hotel provided in their bedside table, along with a bible and a room service menu.

Lynell pulled the pen out of his reach. “Not when it’s on a triple word score,” she replied and pushed the “W” tile back to reveal the star beneath.

Daniel grumbled, “Fine,” as Lynell proceeded to write down the number. Before she could, he pushed the board aside and threw his leg over her torso, straddling her. Lynell laughed and ran her fingers through Daniel’s dark hair that was messier than usual after hours spent in bed. He leaned his head into her touch, eyes fluttering closed.