Page 114 of Forget Me

“I don’t see Jackson yet.”

“That’s okay. I have to say something first.”

“You do?”

I flicked on the microphone and turned to face the ballroom. “Good evening, everyone. Good evening.”

I waited until the room quieted and I’d caught most of the guests’ attention.

“Welcome to the first annual Valentine’s Day Celebration of Brain Differences. I’m Miriam Levy-Walters, the financial consultant for the foundation. I want to thank you all for your generosity tonight.”

I scanned the crowd. Most of them looked bored. Or cranky because they hadn’t eaten anything yet. My knees quaked when I thought about what I wanted to say.

And that’s when I did something that I’d cringe about for the rest of my life.

“Do you know the problem with math puns?” I raised my eyebrows and smiled.

Ben knew this one. “No, what’s the problem with math puns?” he shouted.

I grinned. “Calculus jokes are all derivative, trigonometry jokes are too graphic, algebra jokes are always formulaic, and arithmetic jokes are pretty basic.” I paused. “But I guess the occasional statistics joke is an outlier.”

The silence stretched out to two seconds. Three. Then, from the side of the stage, Natalie bellowed, “Ha!”

My cheeks flamed. I guessed rich people didn’t appreciate math jokes. I sucked in a deep breath and said, “Before I introduce Jackson, I’d like to recognize a few people who brought tonight’s event together.

“First, Natalie Jones. Natalie brought a vision to this gala and executed it flawlessly. Thank you, Natalie, for your contributions and for your friendship.”

I smiled at her while the guests clapped. She threw back her shoulders and beamed first at me and then at the people assembled below us on the dance floor.

When the applause subsided, I continued. “I’d also like to recognize Mateo Rivera, who not only helped bring you the food and entertainment tonight but also helped me in so many ways.”

I paused, frowned. That wasn’t it. Not all of it, anyway. A few people clapped, thinking I was done, but I held up a hand and found Mateo in the crowd. When he gave me a tentative smile, I continued.

“Mateo gave me so much more than help. He gave me loyalty. Encouragement. Support. Unconditionally. No matter what I threw at him, he was always there for me. I wouldn’t be standing up here tonight without him.

“I didn’t know the first thing about putting together a gala like this. But he gave me the confidence to keep going in the face of adversity. To go for what I wanted to achieve. And even when it was difficult, Mateo made it easier for me. He held me up and sustained me through every challenge.”

Closer. I was almost at what I wanted, needed to say.

“He cared for me. And I discovered that I care for him, too. Mateo, I love you. I want to be your partner in this and in everything else.”

Natalie squealed and clapped, and a few of the people gathered on the dance floor joined in. They had no idea that this was monumental for me.

But Mateo did. His tentative smile had turned into a full-on grin, and he arrowed toward me through the crowd.

I’d just professed my love for him in front of a thousand people, but I didn’t want to be standing on stage with a microphone in my hand when he made it to me. I wanted to drag him off somewhere private to back up my words with kisses.

Into the microphone, I said, “And now, please welcome the person who started the foundation, whose ideas, philanthropy, and commitment to neurodivergent kids are the reason we’re here tonight. Jackson Jones.”

I shoved the microphone into Natalie’s hand, not caring if Jackson was ready or not.

I was ready. I scrambled down the steps to Mateo and threw my arms around his neck. He lifted me off my feet and kissed me once, hard, before he whispered into my ear, “I love you, Miriam Levy-Walters. How long until I can take you somewhere and prove it?”

I whispered back, “I have to stay to the end, but…”

“But?” I felt his smile against my cheek.

“But I know where the green room is. I could, um, show it to you?”

“Lead the way, mi amor.”

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