Page 151 of The Oscar Escape
“Denver,” her aunt thundered into the microphone, “let’s hear it for the internet sensation, the Havenmatch Island Players.”
The musicians were here?
The screen behind them lifted, revealing her friends from the island.
“We’ve got your back, Aria,” Niles called.
Aria blinked back tears and waved to her friends.
She understood what Georgia was trying to tell her.
She didn’t have to do this alone.
But how would the islanders have known to come to Denver? She’d figured out her plan barely an hour ago.
It had to be Oscar. If anyone knew her heart, it was him.
She searched the audience and noticed a floppy hat in the crowd. She shielded her eyes. There was no doubt about the woman’s identity. As Madelyn predicted, Agatha sat next to a young girl.
This was matchmaker magic.
Aria’s pulse kicked up. That had to mean Oscar would be among the crowd, too.
She checked the front row, then zeroed in on two little lobsters wearing masks like the ones at the vow ceremony. The little crustaceans raised their face coverings and revealed their identities.
“Hi, Aria,” Tula and Ivy called and sprang to their feet.
“Hi, girls,” she replied, drinking in the entire nanny love match crew. They waved and blew kisses. She scanned the line of familiar faces, and her breath caught in her throat. Del and Etta were with them. Tanner Baker was there, too. He was seated next to Margo. Margo had to have been the pastry chef he had to meet. Right before her eyes, her island life and her love match life combined to create a tapestry of smiles, cheers, and love.
But where was Oscar?
She could feel his presence—sense him watching her. She did another check of the row, and her heart sank. A chair sat empty next to Ivy.
Oscar’s chair.
“Looking for anyone in particular?” her aunt asked as the audience clapped for the island musicians.
“Oscar. I thought he’d be here.”
“He is, honey.”
“Where?” she searched the crowd again.
As if on cue the first notes of, “The Ballad of Havenmatch Island” pierced the air. Aria looked over her shoulder as Georgia conducted. Not a second later, a second spotlight, shining wide and bright like a lighthouse’s beacon, cut through the inky blackness above her.
Harper pointed toward the sky. “Look up.”
Up?
Aria gazed toward the heavens and made out what appeared to be a man in jeans, a gray hoodie, and something orange around his neck. He dangled from—OMG, her crane.
“No way. It can’t be,” she whispered.
The man had balked at this element of her tour.
“That’s my brother!” Ivy exclaimed as the audience cheered.
Aria touched her aunt’s arm. “What’s he doing up there?”
