Page 10 of Own the Eights Gets Married
“Georgie, I—” he began, wanting to apologize, scoop her up, throw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and get them the hell off that set. But he froze when theWake-Up Denverproducer signaled to wrap it up, and the host turned to the camera with her plastic smile blazing.
“Don’t go away! We’ll be back after this commercial break with seven ways to spice up Taco Tuesday.”
“And, we’re clear,” the producer chimed.
Georgie sat back. “Wow, that was intense.”
He took her hands into his. “Georgie, I’m sorry. When I planned this in my head, it looked a lot different.”
“So, you weren’t already in cahoots with the Belgian Waffle Princess?” she replied, gazing down at their hands and the ring sparkling on the wrong finger.
Jesus, this woman! He was one lucky man. The fact that she could see the humor in this mess said more than words ever could.
He shook his head and cringed. “No way. You know how I feel about empty calories in breakfast foods. The only way to eat a Belgian waffle is if it’s made with buckwheat flour, and you’ve added ground chia seeds for an Omega punch.”
“And speaking of buckwheat waffles!” Bobby said as he checked his phone. “We need to get you two into a car.”
“A car?” he and Georgie repeated in unison.
“Yes, a car, so you can get to the champagne engagement party,” Barry added, hammering out a text on his phone.
Jordan shared a look with Georgie. “A champagne, what?”
This was news to him.
Hector handed the Kleenex box to a passing production assistant. “You silly things, of course, we’re going to celebrate. And what better way than to celebrate with champagne!”
“And CityBeat will be there to share in this happy day!” Bobby added.
“CityBeat will be there?” Jordan asked, coming to his feet.
Bobby held out his phone. “Yes, look at these stats. The world loves you guys. And with your More Than Just a Number blog growing, this is exactly the type of content you need to share with your subscribers.”
Content?
His proposal was a hell of a lot more than merely content for their newsfeed. Sure, he loved their More Than Just a Number blog. He valued every person who chose to subscribe. It was their platform, their vision, and they wanted to help and inspire people. But their blog wasn’t a voyeuristic site intent on broadcasting every facet of their lives.
He was about to set the record straight when the production assistant, who he’d almost punched into next week thanks to that wholeyou’re hotmix-up, approached the group.
“Sorry, folks, but we need you off the set so we can set up for the Taco Tuesday segment.”
“Jordan and I aren’t doing our segments?” Georgie asked as two large men lifted the couch she’d been sitting on while another burly man rolled out a table on squeaky wheels.
The kid shifted his stance. “Sorry, your whole waffle wedding proposal took the place of it.”
“Waffle wedding proposal?” Jordan repeated as Georgie’s expression grew pained, which hit him like a punch to the gut.
Dammit! He’d shared the whole engagement idea with theWake-Up Denverproducer a couple of days ago. Still, the man hadn’t mentioned anything about cutting the educational component of their time on-air.
Georgie produced a grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s okay. I understand,” she answered, then lifted a sleeping Mr. Tuesday off the ground and into her arms.
They followed the production assistant off the set as a woman buzzed past them, removing their mics then flitted away toward the chefs standing at the taco set.
Being in this place was starting to feel like a continual case of whiplash. He pressed his hand to the small of Georgie’s back and followed the CityBeat wedding brigade off the set when Becca met them in the hallway.
“Congratulations! Let’s see this ring!” Georgie’s friend exclaimed.
“No time!” Hector called, waving them forward. “Do the doggie switcheroo, and then we need to be off.”
