Medieval Times was located on the main drag in Buena Park along a stretch of entertainment venues not far from Disney’s rival theme park, Knott’s Berry Farm. The structure was large, like a big warehouse, but decorated with towers and other accouterments to make it appear like a castle. There were even fake turrets and a drawbridge, as well as brightly colored pennants flying above crenelated walls. The effect was ruined, however, by the flashing digital sign out front advertising the venue to passersby on the busy boulevard.

We presented our tickets and were given seating assignments and color-coded paper crowns that denoted we’d be sitting in the red section of the arena.

I sighed as we found seats along the walls of the entry hall. “What is with the male fascination with boobs, anyway? My eyes are up here, people!” I said after the fifteenth pair of male eyes fastened on my bust. Mia and I had both garnered a lot of attention in our period garb.

Adam shrugged, slinging an arm around his fiancée’s shoulders and savoring an appreciative eyeful of her cleavage. “Be thankful men don’t have boobs. If they did, they’d never leave the house.”

William began berating him for how silly an idea that was, since male mammals do not have the need for mammary glands to produce milk for their young. It was amusing to watch Adam and Mia fight off the laughter from that mini-tirade.

The main hall outside the arena was a capitalist haven. Everywhere you looked there was princess swag, flowing pennants and medieval-style plastic play swords. Adjacent to the main hall were the stables where guests could admire the gorgeous steeds that the knights would be riding during the jousts. Mia, having grown up around horses, took a great interest, commenting on how beautiful and well bred they were. We were also able to explore the mews for birds of prey—falcons and hawks with hoods and long leather jesses hanging from their legs.

As I walked beside William, I caught small snatches of the quiet chatter between Adam and Mia. I heard talk of some kind of “bet” along with the usual good-natured teasing between them.

Back in the front hall, William stood against the wall while we continued to wait. He scanned the room with arms tightly folded across his chest, breathing deeply—the way I’d shown him—and seemingly aware of every little thing that was happening. I offered him my ear buds and tunes from my playlist in order to drown out the sounds of the crowd, which seemed to visibly calm him.

Adam went off to buy us all some drinks.

“So…how are things going with you and William?” Mia asked.

“Good,” I nodded. “We’ve been having fun.”

Mia’s head tipped toward me, her mouth twisted in a crooked smile. “Really…what kind of fun?”

I frowned. “The usual kind.”

“Like the usual kind for two friends hanging out, or…your usual kind?”

“Goddess, Mia, you make me sound like a fallen woman, to use the medieval term.”

She shrugged. “Just curious.”

I narrowed my eyes. “So you’ve said. You’re extremely curious. Both you and your future hubby.” After our encounter on the couch, I asked William about the condoms and he said Adam had given them to him along with some advice.

Mia blushed and changed the subject. Which was good, because she really didn’t need to know how much William had enjoyed playing with my boobs—or how much I’d liked it when he did. I’d keep that our little secret.

Nothing more was said until we were directed to enter the red section of the great arena. That was where we would be cheering for the Red Knight. The playing field was divided by six different colors: green, black, white, red, yellow and blue, each with its own corresponding “champion.”

“This is our lucky night! Red is my favorite color,” I said. “What’s yours, Wil?”

“All of them,” he answered with a straight face.

“Hmm…must be an artist thing, I guess.”

He looked at the place settings. “There are no forks.”

“We’re at Medieval Times. We eat like the medievals did,” joked Adam.

“This meal and style of eating is completely inauthentic. As is the term ‘medievals,’” William said. “I’m not going to eat with my hands.”

“How is it not authentic?” I asked.

“Well, look at the menu. Herbed potatoes and tomato bisque. Potatoes and tomatoes came from the New World. They were not available for European people to consume during the Middle Ages. And we won’t even discuss the Pepsi.”

Adam laughed behind his hand and Mia smacked his arm without even looking at him. “I’ll ask for a fork for you, William. But I won’t ask for one for Adam. He eats like a Neanderthal anyway.”

“Hey,” Adam replied, feigning irritation before letting a grin slip through.

I took this opportunity to ask about something I’d been curious about. “Do you two even get a chance to go out on dates much with your busy schedules?”

The two of them looked at each other and Mia smiled ruefully. “No, not really. We’re like an old married couple already.”

“Which is why we should just set the date already,” Adam said.

She rolled her eyes. “You and your one-track mind. What difference does it make?”

“We’ll see, won’t we?” he said, shooting her a mysterious look. “When I get to name that date.”

“In your dreams.”

Puzzled by their cryptic conversation, I looked to William for guidance, but he wasn’t listening. He was casting a baleful eye over the arena, particularly the horses and riders who had entered to “warm up” by performing various feats. He muttered repeatedly how the knights’ games and contests were inauthentic. He used that word a lot.

We were served our meals—delicious, roasted chicken with the afore-mentioned anachronistic potatoes, and even a yummy baked apple tart for dessert.

After we ate, the knights started their tournament games in order to please the “king” and the “princess,” who sat high on a platform above the arena. William critiqued the heraldry, the weapons and especially the knights’ “sham armor,” saying, “If I wore armor like that to a tournament, I’d be brain dead or physically disabled in minutes.”

After the dishes were cleared, Adam and Mia sat with their heads together in their own private conversation. I shamelessly attempted to eavesdrop on them. Again I picked up the word “bet,” which was followed by a furtive glance in the direction of William and me. That’s when I put it together.