Page 154 of The Oscar Escape
She pointed to the crustacean. “And you requested the presence of the plastic Clawdia?”
A hint of a grin bloomed on his lips. “You know she likes to watch.”
Aria shook her head, hardly able to process what this man had done. “You had this stuff flown in?”
“I did.”
“When did you do this?”
He checked his watch. “About six hours ago, give or take.”
“You’re crazy. You know that?” she tossed out the barb, but it didn’t have any teeth. In fact, his actions had her tingling from head to toe.
“I’m a man in love, Aria. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to get you back.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Anything?”
“Anything.”
She leaned toward him and sniffed. “Could you take off the lifejacket? It’s a sweet touch, but the stench is making me want to puke.”
“You stink, Oscar,” Ivy chimed to the audience’s delight.
Aria couldn’t look away as Oscar removed the decaying lifejacket. She drank him in. Her knight in hooded armor. She saw every season of the man—the child, the teenager, the adult. Her match. The person she’d always loved.
“If you keep looking at me like that, I’ll have to kiss that sappy grin clean off your face,” he warned.
But she was running on pure adrenaline and couldn’t stop smiling. “You did all this for me?”
“There’s more,” he replied.
Another spotlight hit the stage.
“It’s Judge Gibby,” Ivy announced into a microphone, becoming the unofficial MC of this crazy love-match caper.
The jowly man stood behind the table and rested his hands on his hips. “Perhaps you two could stop lollygagging and take a second to sign your marriage license,” the judge grumped, but the whisper of a wry grin tipped his lips.
Aria observed the beloved curmudgeon. “Is this the business you had to take care of in Colorado?”
“This and Georgia and I bought a home in Telluride.”
“Telluride?”
“They bought my old house,” Oscar explained.
“What a coincidence.”
“Not really,” Oscar said and glanced offstage.
Aria looked over her shoulder. “Madelyn’s doing?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
“The matchmaker strikes again,” Oscar answered, then released her hands. “Do you mind standing? While I dangled like a man chandelier, I—”
“You mean amandelier?” she interrupted. She couldn’t help herself.
He huffed an endearing, exasperated sound. “While I wasmandeliering,I perfected how I wanted to ask that question I’ve got for you.”
She moved closer to him. “I don’t want to stand. I want to be next to you, eye to eye. Heart to heart.”
