Page 67 of Margo and the Faux Good Luck Beau
Despite what my family says about my pointless career, I manage to pull everything together on short notice, get us to New York, and prove to myself that I’m a professional.
As if reading my thoughts as she applies my eye makeup, Juniper says, “You are a master at organizing multiple moving parts.”
“Except for makeup and hair.”
She singsongs, “That’s why you have me.”
I tap on my phone, instructing the string quartet where to set up, complete with a photograph of the space interposed with an illustration of their placement.
“It’s your wheelhouse.”
The caterer pokes her head in. “Where do you want the frosting fount and bowls of cake squares?”
“On the dessert table please.”
“More like a gifting,” Juniper says.
The caterer salutes me.
“Please tell me you’re not making guests assemble the cake.”
“No, we have a real cake too.”
“Please tell me you have a hockey player groom topper.”
“If one-day delivery pulls through then yes, there will be a hockey player groom cake topper.”
She arches her eyebrow. “And what about the bride?”
“She’s just a regular one with red hair.”
“You know you’re not a ‘Regular one.’ Certainly not in Beau’s eyes.”
Scenes from the last months flit through my mind of us dancing, skating, scheming, running, snuggling. She’s right. Beau doesn’t smile much, but the way he looks at me is the biggest expression of happiness I’ve ever seen.
Juniper says, “Your event planning skills are an art form, really. Creating special experiences for people is amazing, though, I had no idea you were so into St. Patrick’s Day, what with all the green and gold.”
“I’m not, but considering what seemed like bad luck for the Leprechauns, actually brought Beau and I together, so it felt weird to waste it.”
Juniper says, “I’m glad your first wedding is yours.”
“So I can be my own guinea pig?”
“No, because you deserve to be the first person—well, you and Beau as a couple—to experience the kind of attention and thoughtfulness that you provide.”
“I’m not sure how great that looks on my resume for potential future customers, but I’m grateful that you agreed to be my maid of honor on short notice.”
“The only possible answer was yes. Plus, I got to meet your hockey guy.”
She knows the whole story about how things started and how they’re going, which is exceptionally well. After Beau toldme about his boy band secret and the promise he made to his grandfather, two things happened.
First, we spent every moment together planning the wedding. He deferred to my expertise but wanted to take part and be supportive of my work even though it’s for us. We didn’t even argue over tablecloths or tartan.
Second, I spent hours watching 5PRNZS footage, and that resulted in me getting one of their hit songs stuck in my head. They’re super catchy. This explains why he’s such a good dancer too. Knowing this part of Beau’s past helps me understand him better, but he still won’t sing for me. Maybe on our honeymoon?
“You’re daydreaming about your beau, aren’t you?”
“My good luck beau,” I say, my voice all floaty.
