Page 37 of Margo and the Faux Good Luck Beau
Ambition and hope are not enough. I’ve failed, which means I’m going back to Cobbiton and my parents’ couch. Maybe there are some coins between the cushions. I’ll figure out a way to get by until I’m back on my feet.
But the worst part will be facing my mother and Celeste’s smug faces now that I’ve proved they were right. I tried and failed at doing things my way: running successful business and marrying for love.
And still no word from my fake fiancé.
CHAPTER NINE
While the forwardsare on the other end of the ice charging the goal tended by Jake Gershon from the Pittsburg Generals, I shouldn’t be thinking about how I’ve been a terrible fake fiancé.
I happen to know Margo is watching the game unless she’s given up on me.
Ever since she returned to New York, she texts me after the Knights play. If we win, she sends a photo of her smiling and pointing to the final score. I don’t use this word lightly, but it’s utterlyadorable. Like I want to bury my face in her hair and get a puppy adorable. If we lose, she tells me how well I played.
Truth is, I always play solidly. Not gloating. Just facts. There was only one time the other team was better—our current rival—the Cascades. Bets are we’re facing them in the final playoffs.
I need to work on spitting out better rebounds and make my cross-ice push more powerful. Hockey is a physical game and a mental one. For the latter, I locked that down a long time ago because it was the one place I could go to block out all the noise in my life. The singular objective is to guard the goal with my life. Felt pretty straightforward after I had to guard my life against the goals other people had for mine.
We have this game in the bag, which is why I’m less focused than usual. I haven’t so much been avoiding Margo as I’ve been busy with the team. Also, I hate texting. I’d be perfectly happy if cell phones didn’t exist. They only cause trouble.
But if I listen to that pesky voice in my head, the real reason I haven’t moved forward in this marriage of convenience is because that means telling my mother. Speaking to her in general is something I avoid even if doing so will finally free me from this burden.
Don’t want to sound ungrateful because my grandfather thought he was helping, and he was, but the inheritance keeps me tied to Sukie.
The game results in a shootout to break the final overtime-period score. I get into position and size up the three players on the roster who’ll try to sneak the puck into the goal, penalty shot style.
With every single person in the arena watching intently, tension builds. I let it roll off like thawing ice even though I’m melting like a candle under all this gear. The Cascades take turns. I block every shot. Gershon does not and we walk away the winners.
After unlacing all the pads and protectors that keep me sealed in for my own safety, I let out a long breath. I imagine this is what women during the Victorian era felt like when removing their corsets, only my gear is much bulkier.
After a shower, I get dressed and put away my skates.
“Who has Valentine’s Day plans for this weekend?” Micah asks.
Redd whistles. “We’re making heart-shaped cookies with Blue and then Whit and I are slipping away for a little date night.”
There was a time when everyone would’ve laughed, but Coach Badaszek, who lost his wife, has trained us to appreciatethe women in our lives. The Puck Bunnies don’t hop around much these days.
“Dessert before dinner?” Hayden asks, referring to the cookie-baking menu.
“Any big TV appearances?” Redd teases back, referencing a reality dating contest Hayden’s agent slotted him in last year.
“No, but I do have big plans for my Stupid Cupid.”
“Should you really be calling Delaney that?” Ted asks.
Hayden’s mouth twists. “I mean it affectionately.”
“Shorty and I are doing a long weekend up in Maple Falls. Maybe looking at some properties for someday.” Someday soon by the sound of longing in his voice.
“And Harlow is okay withthatnickname?” Hayden counters.
Margo mentioned not having a nickname-able name. Margo. Mar? That kind of works, but it sounds more like a sound a fish would make or the word forseain Spanish. Go is a verb. Go-Go is kind of cute. But I don’t want her togo. I’d like for her tocomehere.
I think about her coffee-with-cream eyes, her smooth skin, and her full lips. They’re puffy and slightly plumper in the middle. Perfect lips. Lips a fake groom would kiss on his wedding day.
My thoughts drift to her coming back to Cobbiton and what we’d do. Go to the Busy Bee Bakery. I think she’d like that. They have great baked goods and coffee?—
“What about you, Hammer?” Pierre asks, interrupting my ... daydream? Whoa. What?
