Page 49 of Margo and the Faux Good Luck Beau
She snaps her fingers. “Which is different from a shootout.”
I nod. To my knowledge, it was also the first time Margo and I were in the same building together even though we didn’t know each other yet. “Maybe you’remylucky charm,” I say, referring to her calling me her good luck beau.
“Could be that we bring each other good luck.” Her eyes soften.
A trickle of electricity passes between us. It’s smooth yet sparks. We share a connection that goes beyond words.
Then she jumps to her feet. “It’s your birthday. We need to celebrate. A birthday breakfast, a day out on the town, dinner, cake, presents. Do you want presents?”
“I have everything I need.” Once more, my gaze lands on her.
Maybe the guys were right about the whole Honey Butter thing.
“I wish I’d known March fifth is your birthday. What do you like? I want to make your day special.” She clasps my hands and jumps up and down.
My lips ripple at her enthusiasm.
“I’m good.” I’m relieved that she didn’t scream when I snuck in to wake her up for the sunrise, resulting in a neighbor calling the police. I’m glad that we watched the sunrise together. I’m grateful she listened while I talked about my bout with the repetitive and borderline obsessive pre-game checklist and compulsions. I’m thankful we’re getting married.
“Beau, I’m an event planner. This is literally what I do. Please let me organize something. Even if it’s last minute. What’s your favorite restaurant in town? We’ll rent the private room and invite your teammates. Have dinner. Keep it simple. Low key. Maybe I’ll jump out of a cake.”
My lips part, laughter building inside. “Doesn’t sound low key, but that I’d like to see.”
Her eyes widen. “Seriously? I. Will. Make. It. Happen.”
I’m about to tell her not to make a fuss, but she’s so enthusiastic as she takes a slug of coffee, gears turning in her mind, I don’t want to rain on her happy parade. But there’s one thing ...
“Maybe instead of my birthday, we should discuss the wedding.”
“No business on your birthday,” she says, pacing a short path by the window as if calling up Cobbiton’s restaurant directory in her mind.
“But is it business?”
“Is our marriage of convenience a business arrangement? I think the convenience part indicates that yes, it is indeed.”
I ask a question that’s been tossing around in my mind, restless. “Does it have to be?”
Her eyes float to mine. In them, I see so much promise.
She whispers, “I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”
Me neither. “The Fish Bowl or the Bell Tower,” I cite two Cobbiton dining establishments that aren’t the All Ears Diner & Fuel Station to turn the subject back to the one that had her smiling.
“High or low, fancy or casual, huh?”
“Pub food or fine American fare.”
“I’ll see which one has an opening on short notice. Can I borrow your phone?”
“It’s not even nine a.m. They’re not open yet.”
“I need your contacts to know who to invite.”
Less than nine hours later,the guys on the Knights, including Micah and Meg, Hayden and Delaney, Redd and Whit, Ted and Harlow, Pierre and Cara, and some others with theirwives and girlfriends, and even Badaszek and Vohn sing happy birthday to me in the party room at the Fish Bowl. Hayden and Redd wheel out a giant cake topped with sparklers.
They chorus, “Make a wish.”
The second the room goes dark, Margo pops out of the cake holding glow lights. Everyone claps and cheers.
