Page 29 of Margo and the Faux Good Luck Beau
“Again—” She gestures to herself as if she’s merely a plastic toy up against a formidable battalion.
My gaze travels from her hands to her shoulders, along her neck, partially covered in silky waves of red hair, and to the apples of her cheeks before landing on those big brown eyes. I’m drinking this coffee black since cereal milk isn’t available but am considering switching to cream in order to achieve the perfect shade of brown.
At last, I say, “It’s not true. Just perception.”
“You’ve met them.”
“I’ve also met you. If you’re wondering, I’m rooting for Team Margo.”
“The underdog team,” she mutters.
“They have the most heart, making the win that much better.”
Her eyes snap to mine as if she had never before considered the prospect of winning. “Hmm. You did win the game against the Kings.”
“We achieved it as a team.”
“So you’re saying if one has the right people in their corner ...”
“Something like that.”
“What about your family? Are they the right people?” she asks.
“In this context, no.”
“Are there other contexts?”
“Let’s just say our families aren’t all that different.”
“Is that why you suddenly went along with pretending to be my fiancé?”
I tip my head from side to side. “Partly.”
“Where does your family live?”
“Concordia.”
Like most people, she squints as if visualizing a mental map but can’t locate the red pin. “Hmm. Never heard of it.”
“It’s a small nation north of England. So will you do it?”
“Ask me again, but with a little more emotion please.”
I don’t do emotion. All forms of emoting were sucked out of me, left on the stage, at a young age.
Clearing my throat, I do my best to indulge her. Taking a piece of napkin, I twist it into a loop and pinch it between my fingers. “Margo, will you marry me?”
A pretty smile blooms on her face and her eyes sparkle. “Yes, I will.”
I slide the bit of napkin around her finger. She holds out her hand and admires it.
“If Celeste could see me now. I’ve really moved up in the world.” Then she goes still and looks surreptitiously around. “With my luck, my sister will appear, having recorded this whole thing, and reveal the truth. Then Gerard will post it online for the world to see.”
“It’s just us and we’re officially engaged.”
“Should we fill out some paperwork? Create a contract? Have some kind of agreement?”
“Let’s enjoy the rest of this pie and we can discuss it tomorrow.”
