"Let's get out of here," Andrew looked into her eyes and nodded to her, still shutting out that the entire office staff had just watched him kiss and propose to Margaret. He'd never hear the end of this, but he didn't care. Margaret would stay; they would marry, and everything would work out because he'd spent the last 20 hours traveling to make sure of it. He wasn't going to lose the woman he loved.
With their lips inches apart, Margaret looked up at him, "I've got unpacking to do since it seems I'm staying, not to mention a bubble to burst with Bob."
"Nope," he shook his head as he spoke quietly. "Not right now. It can wait. We're going."
She smirked and gestured with her hand, "I see, so you think that you've got my number now that you can order me around? You're calling the shots? I'm still your boss."
"Mmm," he tilted his head side to side, and he started to register the murmurings around the office. He smirked right back at her, "I've had your number for three years, Margaret, telephone number that is," he smiled sweetly. "I am going to order you to leave at least now. See, the thing is, that even though you love me, and I love you, see, I'm still your ticket to staying in this country. Right now, I'm ordering you to leave because we have bigger and better things to do. I'm not even really considering immigration today one of those big things, but it is a check off the box phone call. I've already spoken to our favorite immigration agent, and he's just waiting on a call from you. He was surprised to hear from me, and we have an appointment with him in two days, that is if you call and confirm what I've told him. So, yes, today, I'm calling the shots, to answer another of the questions you had in that string of questions. Regarding the boss part, ahh," he shifted his head from side to side, "technically, yes, but for at least today, I'm still on vacation. I'm not at work. I would still be in Alaska, but see, I had to follow up on this whole 'Runaway Bride' thing. Now, the whole boss thing will be taken care of soon because I know I am supposed to get one of the editor jobs."
Margaret's expression changed. She narrowed her gaze at him and gestured again with her finger, "I'm just going to remember this moment. It's like another whole side of you. I'm not sure I like it."
He winked, "You like it. Actually, you love it because well," he lowered his voice and leaned in, if it was possible to lean in even further, "Margaret, you love me. It's okay. I love you too, and you've not had someone care about you in years. You'll get used to it. Now, be a good boss and good fiancée and get your things. We're leaving."
She opened her mouth to protest, but she thought the better of it. Instead, she spun on her heels and started toward her office. HER office. Andrew watched as she walked, relieved that it would remain her office. He glanced toward his desk, and he started walking too, finally registering the comments that were swirling around.
"Yeah, Andrew!" Andrew glanced around and threw a small wave at the office, not focusing on anyone. Had he really had time to think about it, he probably wouldn't have put on that display for EVERYONE. He had participated in the office "witch hunt" as they called it day in and day out, tracking her moves and moods. He had stopped counting the number of times people had told him they couldn't understand how he worked for her. Andrew nodded to a couple of the guys, patted down his shirt, and he walked toward her office. The door was slightly open. He stepped inside and didn't close it; he intended to leave now.
"I just need to-"
"Nope," he shook his head. "Margaret, we just got engaged-again," he paused and locked eyes on her, waiting for her to meet his gaze. When she did, he nodded to continue, "We have things to do."
"Well, I have things to do here too," she nodded. He pulled out his phone, walked toward her, and he handed it to her. She looked at it as if he was handing her poison.
"What's this?" Margaret pointed to it.
"A phone, my phone," he winked, gesturing for her to take it. "It won't bite. In fact, it's exactly the same as the one we just ordered you in Alaska."
"Why would I want your phone?" Margaret looked to him.
"You'll find the number for your favorite immigration agent right there, awaiting your call. That's really all you need to do in this moment. Call him so we can leave. I mean, you just spent what, almost 10 hours traveling with him, actually more with the connections, so I know you two are good pals. Are we in this?"
She snapped up her head, and in that moment, her face softened. For the first time at work, he saw HIS Margaret, the woman he'd fallen for in Alaska, the woman who had finally started to open up to him. He smiled genuinely at her. While he enjoyed this game of sarcasm and knew she did too, he was realizing he loved these moments even more.
"Of course, I am," she said, giving him a half smile. He knew it was hard for her to show any emotion, let alone at work. He nodded, put his one hand in his pockets, and he stepped closer to her desk, now just across from her.
"Okay, then," he said, handing her the phone with his other. "I've already spoken to him."
"You were that sure of yourself, of, of this," she gestured again with her hand. He smiled, noticing how her lip twitched as she got nervous. He chuckled as he looked to the floor.
"Yes, Margaret, I was sure, am sure," he corrected. "I told him I'd move to Toronto if he still decided to deport you. It might have helped that my dad called him too."
At that, he raised his eyes and caught her snapping her head toward him again. She'd been looking at the phone.
"Your dad called? He hates me. I'm sure immigration is on the way here now to drag me out in handcuffs and throw me on an earlier flight."
"No," he chuckled again, now both hands in his pockets. He glanced up at her and winked, "We're clear about a few things now. Let's just say Gammy made sure Dad understood the way it was. Dad felt bad about how things went down, and while I didn't ask, I have to admit it probably did help that he called. Go ahead," he gestured to the phone, which was now on the desk. Andrew had placed it there after Margaret snapped her head toward him. She bit her lip, but she reached for it. Andrew's mind started to wander while she called. He knew he should pay attention, but at the same time, he expected the conversation to be civil. It had been quite the almost 24 hours.
Gammy's little stunt had gotten them to the airport, and he'd finally admitted his true feelings. Well, his mother and Gammy had actually recognized his true feelings. Gertrude had probably made him realize it back at the house when she'd asked him if he was just going to let her go. After Gammy's little stunt, he'd almost broken down there in front of his family and realized that he needed to get to Margaret before she was kicked out of the country. It had been a whirlwind of movement, getting him onto the next flight out. Due to connections, he ended up hours behind her, and yes, when she'd called him out on "panting," and "running from Alaska," it had felt like he'd done just that.
"Andrew?" He snapped his head toward her and saw she was already handing him his phone. He frowned, tilting his head to the side.
"You're done?" Andrew asked.
She rolled her eyes and sighed, "Ahh, the puppy dog look. You've been daydreaming. Is this what we've come to now, the puppy dog face?"
He sighed and rolled his eyes as he looked to the ceiling. It would take some getting used to this side of Margaret, the side that cared about him. He was realizing it was almost as if she didn't know how to care, how to show she cared, and she quickly tried to mask it with sarcasm.
"Speaking of puppies," he said, rocking on his heels as he pursed his lips. "Can't wait for you to meet mine."
Her eyes widened in horror, and she shook her head as she gestured. "Puppy? You've never mentioned a dog, Andrew. You have a dog? I hate dogs."
"Hmm, yes, I've noticed, and thank you for admitting that," he grinned. "Yes, a puppy, a little tiny, yapping puppy, name's Ramone." He locked eyes with her, trying to convey he was serious. The two stared at each other for several moments before she called him on his bluff.
"You're bluffing," she stated bluntly and looked away while she collected her things. She grabbed her bag and looked back at him, giving him a roll of the eyes. He tried to hold his stare, but something about the way she looked at him, he cracked.
"Yeah," he smiled at her. "I am," he shrugged. "Thinking of getting one, a puppy, just like Kevin, and Ramone is the perfect name."
"No," she pointed to him, huffing. "I don't do dogs."
"Yes, Dear," he said with a smirk and a nod at her. When she looked to him at the nickname, he grinned.
"Hmm, well, since you like puppies, Puppy sounds like a perfect name for you, hmm? Agree?" Margaret asked.
Instead of answering her, Andrew turned slightly and gestured to the door, "Ready? We're leaving, remember?"
"I suppose, yes," she said, with her bag on her arm. She pursed her lips and put eyes on the door. She sighed, "We really have to go out there, the same space where the entire office just watched me make a fool of myself?"
"Ahh, spoken by a loving fiancée," he said with a smile and a sigh as he walked toward the door, following her. "I take it we're good with immigration for the time being?"
"Yes, we have a day and a half by my watch to get our stories straight," she said in a clipped tone.
"Nothing to get straight," as he quickly stepped around her to hold the door as he smiled at her. "Real deal this time, boss. Let's go."
The two moved quickly through the office, not before Andrew caught the eye of several of his colleagues. Margaret appeared to keep her eyes focused on anything but the office staff, and he just gave a nod and smile as he walked by everyone. He knew the office would be buzzing the rest of the day. It was just as well they were leaving; no work would get done this afternoon.
The two were quiet in the elevator, and to be fair, it was full the entire ride down. He knew Margaret still had a reputation she wanted to keep, even if his proposal to her would become not just the office, but the building gossip. Margaret was a very well-respected executive, and he knew she would want to keep things as private as they could be, if that was even possible now. Andrew spent most of the time looking up at the ceiling tiles, standing there, next to Margaret. She focused on her phone. He knew it was her way of working through her emotions, emotions he had as well, but to be fair, he'd had the flight from Alaska to address them. Margaret, while she might have known she loved him, had filed it out of her mind, had told herself that she was moving to Toronto-alone. Now, she was standing in the elevator having to play catch up. He glanced her way when she cleared her throat, but she was still fixated on her phone. Finally, the arrived on the ground floor, filed out, and soon, were outside.
It was finally there, on the street, where Andrew took her hand in his. She looked down at their now joined hands and back at him with an almost horrified look. He rolled his eyes at her and gave her a look.
"What?" Andrew smirked. "You're going to be okay with this, Margaret. We're not at work."
She tapped, or maybe stomped her foot as she considered it, and she opened her mouth to protest. Andrew, feeling bold, put his finger to her mouth.
"Ahh, ahh," he smiled brightly at her, "this is all part of the romance, Margaret, and yes, you'll get used to it. Now," he nodded to her as she closed her mouth, deciding not to argue. "We're headed to my place."
Margaret made a face, and she shook her head, "I wasn't joking when I said we'd stay at my place as we were trying to memorize that stupid packet of paperwork. Central Park West, Andrew."
"Ahh, yes," he said, glancing down. "I'm aware. If you recall, I've had to bring you any number of things late at night, all from the doorway, I might add. I've never actually been inside your place."
Margaret frowned and looked to the ground, kicking her shoe around as she did. She glanced at him, a scrunched up face as she did, "I wasn't the nicest to you, was I?"
"Nicest?" Andrew laughed. He patted her arm, "Sweetums, he winked as he said it, "you weren't kind at all, but all okay, boss. As I said in Alaska, I still haven't left you and will never."
"Sweetums? No," she shook her head. "I put my foot down at that."
"But, I have to live with Puppy?" Andrew raised an eyebrow. "We'll talk," he said, hooking his hand over his shoulder. "Come on. We need to get going to my place."
"Where do you even live? Do you have some hairy roommate? Is it a studio? Can we even both fit in this place of yours? Was a murder committed in your building? Andrew, these are all important things to know."
"Margaret," he said sweetly, flashing a smile at her, "just trust me. Do you really think it would be anything that awful considering where I grew up? Hmm?" Andrew gave her a look and waited for an answer. He saw her shake her head from side to side, considering what he had said. She looked at him, challenging him to answer.
"Fine," he raised his hand in defense, as his other was still in her hand, "if you must know, now that you've met my family, been to my parents' elaborate home, and promised to marry me, I suppose I can share this. I own my condo," he stated, rocking on his heels. He smiled at her. She raised her eyebrows at him.
"You own your place? I don't even own my apartment. How do you own anything in New York City?" Margaret asked him.
"Ahh, sweet, sweet, Margaret," he said, patting her arm, "as much as I didn't want to take anything from my father when I came here and didn't," he said with a deliberate glance, indicating he was serious. "Gammy was different, has been different. As her only grandchild, well," he shook his head, "let's just say that Gammy has always taken care of me. While other grandmothers gave their grandkids-I don't know, maybe a shirt for Christmas, she gave me money, lots of it, each year. Let's just say that Gammy will approve of how I spent the money."
Margaret raised her eyebrows and finally nodded in agreement. She opened her mouth and finally blurted out, "Wait, where is this place?"
"Come with me and see," he said cryptically. "I promise you will like it. It's even a two-bedroom, so there's room when the family comes to visit." He started to walk with her hand in his, and she walked along for a few steps before stopping them.
"Wait, I thought your family had never been to New York?" Margaret asked.
He shrugged, "They haven't, but sweet, sweet, Margaret," he paused, pulling her hand up to his mouth to kiss it as he smirked, "there's a wedding coming up very, very soon."
"Oh, right," she nodded, considering it. "Ahh, if I haven't made myself and well, you too, a laughingstock in Alaska, we could get married there. I know it was important to Gammy."
"We can talk about it," he nodded. "I really don't care where, Margaret, just as long as you don't take off again."
She grinned, "I won't take off this time. Promise. I happen to like America," she shrugged, giving him a wink.
"Good, and I hope you like my family too, because, well, they are on their way. You're right-they haven't been here, and we all discussed that you and I might have to get married right away. They didn't want to miss it, not for a second time. Besides," he grinned, "they all have to be interviewed at immigration too."
He eyes widened in horror as he pulled her along, she almost tripping as she processed his family coming to New York. She gestured with her hand, "Ahh, Puppy," she called to him, and he just hummed instead of stopping, "immigration?"
"Ahh, yes, immigration interviews the whole family. I think even Ramone is coming. I know what a close bond you two formed," he flashed her a grin.
"Great," she said through gritted teeth. "About this place of yours?"
"Just come along, Margaret. If I tell you that you get a ring when you get there, will that help?"
Her eyes widened, "A ring?"
Andrew stopped, turned, and he gestured between them, "Well, yes, that is the standard for an engagement. I mean, I realize nothing we have done has been tradition or customary, but I thought we might start with well," he paused, "my proposal, which I did."
"Ahh, you didn't get down on one knee," she pointed out and pointed to the ground. He looked down and shook his head.
"Yeah, not happening. You got an audience at work instead," he explained.
She frowned, "Yes, that was not my first choice."
"Beggars can't be choosers," he pointed out to her and added, "especially when they are a couple hours from deportation."
She nodded, "Fair point, I suppose. So, this ring-do you actually have it? I'm having trouble believing that since you did come all the way from Alaska, panting, I might add. I mean-"
"I have it, Margaret," he interrupted and was stern about it. The two locked eyes, and he leaned toward her and whispered in her ear, "I promise you will like it. Trust me, Margaret, just trust me. Okay? I feel like that will be our theme-trust me."
She raised an eyebrow at him while he awaited an answer. Finally, she squeezed his hand and nodded, "Okay, I will try. Can we please maybe go to my apartment later? I did say please. I do need to make sure my things aren't sent to Toronto."
He nodded, "I can agree to that, and it will give my family my place. They can all stay there. So, are we okay?"
"I mean, you did save me from drowning," she told him, patting his chest. "I could also argue that you did cause me to fall off the boat, but who is arguing? You also did save me from deportation, so yes, Andrew," she smiled warmly, "we are okay."
"Okay, then," he smiled. "To my place, Muffin."
"Ahh, Puppy, Muffin? That's a no on that one too," she said as they started to walk.
"Maggie?" Andrew glanced at her. She smiled and shook her head, giving him another no.
"We'll talk," he added and continued, "about a nickname and about a dog. Both are things I would like."
