Page 74 of Feel It in the Air

Shit…

Pushing to my feet quickly, my chair rolling behind me with enough force that it bangs against the wall, I spin on my heel, following my father’s lead and starting to pace. I run my hand down my face, trying to find the words I know I don’t have. There’s so much whirring around in my head and my heart, and yet, none of it can be articulated.

And even if it could be, I should maybe say it to Margeaux first.

“I…I don’t know…” I turn back to look at him, hold my arms out, feeling ready to surrender. “Just…just that it’s not going pear-shaped.”

Auggie nods, a smug smile taking over. “Because you know.”

“Yes.”

Wait…what?!

Auggie starts to chuckle, leaving me even more confused. What the hell is going on here?

“Does she know?” he asks, leaning against the chair in front of him, smug smile still firmly in place.

“Know what?”

“Does she know?” he repeats, as if it were obvious the first time. Which it was not. “Or know that you know?”

I blink, trying to figure out how we went from him halfway berating me to speaking in riddles. Did my father hit his head along the way and I miss it?

Shaking his head, he chuckles more, pulling the chair out and sliding into it. “August, what am I going to do with you?”

“You could start by explaining why you’re laughing.”

“First day of my freshman year of high school, I was sitting in homeroom with my three best friends, and the most gorgeous creature I have ever seen sauntered right on in that classroom,” he says.

I nod, not sure where he’s taking this. I’ve heard the story a million times. The story of my parents’ romance is Hickory Hills legend. Auggie spins the story in a way you can’t help but be enthralled, as our Mama stands by blushing, recounting how he was head over heels for her from the second he saw her. The new girl in town, she immediately took up with the girls he’d been friends with since childhood, so he and his buddies devised a plan to try and catch the pageant queen’s eye. Sure enough, a month later, Auggie Hayes had hired Belle Huxley to be the face of a new ad campaign.

The campaign was bogus—which Belle figured out pretty quickly when it was Auggie who was acting as photographer—but she forgave him just as quickly. A few years, a Miss Georgia title, and a great big wedding later, Belle Huxley became Belle Hayes.

“Prettier than a peach,” Auggie recites, pointing to the framed ad campaign on the wall, my mother’s smiling face beaming back at us. “Your grandfather spit nails for a week when he found out what I did. And he didn’t let me live it down ’til the day he died. Told me all the damn time it was a good thing she agreed to marry me and gave me a line of heirs to the Hayes name, and another Miss Georgia. But I knew the second I saw your mama that there was something different about her. Something special. And I knew after that afternoon with her out in the groves that she was worth whatever came my way.”

I slide back into a chair, taking in his words. They settle in my chest, making perfect sense. Also helping to make sense of this jumble of emotions that I’m feeling. That I have been feeling since Margeaux walked back into my life. And especially since that moment on the couch on Friday.

I know what I feel. I know what I want. I might not be able to say the words. But I know.

And Margeaux Finnegan is my girl. Without a doubt. Worth whatever comes my way.

“So I ask again,” he pushes. “Does she know?”

I shrug and nod at the same time, a weird combination of movements that I know leaves him perplexed. “More or less. We’re on the same page. One hundred percent. It’s been complicated given everything—the airport, finding each other again, then the temporary reassignment. But I don’t doubt her feelings for me.”

A long heavy sigh, followed by a slow, solemn nod is all I get for a moment, leaving me unsure where we stand. If he’s going to accept this answer. Or if I’m about to be disowned. The latter seems extreme, but truthfully, right now it feels like it could go either way.

“That’s that then.”

Sir, that’s not an answer…

Sitting back, I wait for him to continue. For him to say something. Anything. Fuck, at this point he could scream “you’re fired!” like they do on that TV show—at least then I would get the message.

“You couldn’t have faked an ad campaign?” he laughs.

“We were Jace’s self-defense demo dummies,” I mutter.

“The black eye. Well, then you got what you deserved. Maybe karma is lookin’ out.”

Can’t argue there…

“Percy will be back Monday. I expect that you will bring him up to speed, on everything, immediately. And then you two will create a plan with Carl on how to reveal yourselves.”

I snicker, unable to help myself when he says, “reveal yourselves.” Because despite the dressing down I just got, the twelve-year-old in me is still alive and well.

“Not what I meant; head out of the gutter.”

“You said it!”

Rolling his eyes, Auggie chooses to ignore my point. “And I expect that Miss Belle and I will be properly introduced to Margeaux, in her soon to be revealed capacity, at the tree lighting on Thursday,” he says, emphasizing his word choice just to make me laugh again. “And for God’s sake, bring her to Sunday dinner so your mama can lose her damn mind and have something to tell her girlfriends?”

“They don’t have enough with Willa and all them pairing off?” I counter.

The glare he tosses at me tells me not to test, and my hands fly up in surrender faster than the roadrunner across a Saturday morning cartoon screen. Point made.

“Now,” he continues, reaching for his sandwich again. “Tell me all about her.”