Page 73 of Margo and the Faux Good Luck Beau
Turns out, they’re right, but I don’t breathe until the buzzer sounds, indicating the Knights win by a slim five-four score. Everything they said is true and I shout it from the rooftops, er, from behind the glass. When the Knights do their victory lap, the strangest thing happens.
“It looks like—” Cara says.
“No way,” Harlow adds.
Lips parted as if witnessing a small miracle, Whit nods her head. “It’s a first, but not his first time winning the Stanley Final.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Delaney says.
But I have. Beau smiles. It’s teeny tiny, itty bitty. But there all the same, and I’ve been lucky enough to see it before our wedding day, on our wedding day, and many times since.
When I meet my husband outside the locker room, clobbering him with a full-body koala bear hug, I get the smile again, then I kiss his face to smithereens.
He has to go to the post-game press conference and then there’s a celebration dinner, er, midnight snack, which is how I branded the event in case they won. Cara somehow knew or was betting on it.
But first, the cameras and microphones swarm the guys.
When a reporter asks Beau what he’s doing now that he’s won, he says, “Going on a honeymoon with Honey Butter.”
EPILOGUE 2
After the Stanleywin and the honeymoon, I’m ready to relax back home.
It’s not that I need a vacation from the vacation—we had a fantastic time touring Ireland. I wasn’t quite ready to go back to Concordia, but we’re planning a trip there next summer. I’d just like some time alone with my wife. To do life together. To go on runs, eat breakfast, heck, I’ll even go to a party supplies store with her.
Which is where I find myself. We’re in Omaha and she’s sourcing some unique paper goods for an upcoming anniversary party. She and the store owner are getting very geeky over card stock weight and texture treatments, so I go outside to wait. I don’t want to loom.
She’s never said that I loom, but I know I loom, hulk, whatever.
Next to the “Paper Bar” is a smoothie shop, so I grab one for each of us, adding extra protein powder because shopping requires stamina.
I sit down on the wooden bench outside, waiting for my bride—Margo will always be my bride. I never want to forget thefullness of love I felt for her on our wedding day nor how it grows day by day.
Her sister’s take was that I could’ve had any woman—between being in 5PRNZS and an NHL player, they’ve thrown themselves at me. I’m not good at playing catch. Just blocking. Must come with the goalie territory.
The woman I chose delights and fascinates me. I like watching her do the most mundane things like she’s an exotic creature I’ve discovered. Through the shop window, she’s talking with her hands. I love holding her hand. She brushes a piece of hair out of her face. Her hair is so soft.
Her smile lifts as she thanks the shopkeeper and makes her way toward the door. I’ll die a happy man having been completely fulfilled only seeing that smile once, never mind every day. It’s like sunshine. Like starlight. It’s a look of kindness and enthusiasm.
When it lands on me, sitting here, her eyes also smile in a way that I’ve noticed is solely reserved for me.
“I see you made a friend.”
I frown, not understanding what she means.
Crouching down next to the bench, she says, “You’re a vicious-looking creature but a very good boy sitting here so nicely next to Beau.”
I glance over to see my wife petting an animal that looks part mastiff, part husky, and all growly smiles. Grunts? They’re happy sounds even though the animal is a beast.
My hackles lift though because if that mongrel so much as harms a hair on her head ... it opens its mouth and starts to lick her hand profusely. Nuzzling his head against her, Margo scratches his ears and then the whole thing devolves into a love fest as she uses a baby voice to tell him how good he is.
“You really, really like dogs.”
“See? We’re still learning things about each other.” She looks up at me, squinting slightly against the sun at my back.
I shift to provide her and the dog shade. “Got you a smoothie. Berry Bonanza.”
“Ooh. My favorite.”
