“Of course.” Becca nods. “I plan to win.”
“I plan to hope for the best. Maybe you’ll hallucinate or something and miss,” Tasha jokes.
“I can’t cheer for you, since all my cheers are reserved for Becca,” I say with a grin. “But good luck.”
“You’re going to wish me luck? What if I beat your wife?” Tasha says.
“Even if you have all the luck in the world, Becca’s still going to win.” I kiss Becca on the forehead. “For victory.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Becca
My heart flutters a little from Devlin’s victory kiss. Other than my parents and Max, nobody’s ever come to the festival and cheered me on at the archery competition. Tasha competes too, and she’s too busy trying to hit her own targets to do any side-cheering for anyone else.
What I haven’t shared with anybody is that you don’t have to shoot every deer to win. I have a set number I aim for, and that’s almost always enough to get me into first place.
I go back to the car to grab my equipment. I’m the last competitor to go, because I’m a former champ. Bobby’s a crack shot, but he doesn’t compete in archery because he prefers guns. There’s a competition for that later, almost toward the end, before the town awards the best barbecue prize. I doubt Grandma’s going to win it. She’s never been able to defeat Thea and her sister’s sauce, which has been in their family for four generations.
Special levers control the plastic deer hidden behind a long pile of hay. Each competitor gets seven chances to hit one when it pops up. Most miss because they panic and try to hit them all, when in fact they come out too fast to aim accurately if that’s what you plan to do.
When it’s my turn, I get to the field and pick up my bow and first arrow. I squint over the archery field, to take in my surroundings before it’s time to start. I almost burst out laughing when I hear Devlin yelling in front, cupping his hands over his mouth for better projection. “Go, Becca pie, go! Show those plastic deer who’s boss!”
Shaking my head and trying not to giggle, I nock and partially draw the arrow. The first deer pops up, but it’s too quick and too far to my left. The next one is right in front of me, and I put the arrow into its neck. I hit the next four as well, then miss the last one. Can’t get ’em all. Besides, nobody else got five.
“Yeah!” Devlin’s jumping, doing the victory pose with both fists in the air. “Go, Becca, go, Becca!”
His mood is contagious. People around him are clapping and cheering, joining in his “Go, Becca” chant. Pleasure unfurls, making my face warm. I’ve never had people cheer for me like this, but then, Max isn’t the type to make a shameless public spectacle of himself.
I laugh as I go over. And because I have no clue how else to show the buoyant, giddy feelings welling inside me, I give Devlin a tight hug. “Thanks for the support.”
He hugs me back and places a quick peck on my mouth. “You’re welcome. You showed those deer…and everyone else! You’re at the top of the board.” He points at the huge white board used as a scoreboard.
“Yeah.” I realize I’ve got a ridiculously wide smile on right now. I’m happy I won, but more than that, I’m happy I have Devlin here to cheer me on and celebrate with me. In the last few years, the competitions seemed like something I did just to collect trophies for my living room. But not this year. Coming here with Devlin reminds me why people in Drover love to host the festival, and why so many look forward to it. If they feel half the joy I’m feeling, they’ll want to do this every month!
The judges tally up the points and decide on the second- and third-place winners as well. Thea presents the trophies, air-kissing everyone. She’s been pretty active and happy since Mary Casey choked on a smoked oyster and died. But then, Mary stole Thea’s husband, so nobody in Drover blames Thea for hating her.
Devlin kisses me too, but on my mouth and with a much firmer contact, and I’m left breathless. He and I are fake-married, but right now our relationship feels more real than the sun shining over us.
“We have to take a selfie with you holding your trophy,” he says.
“Are you going to upload it to your Facebook page?” I ask, remembering the video he posted to announce our marriage. He did that to make our new marital status look real, but he doesn’t have to continue to publicize what we’re doing on Facebook. I know most celebrities value their privacy. Max absolutely hates it that he has to be on social media and “appear genuine.”
“Nope. This one’s just for us.” He considers. “Well…maybe Max can see it.”
We pose, with me holding the trophy. Devlin snaps the shot and texts me and Max the photo. I see it and smile as I trace the lines with my eyes… Us standing, Devlin’s arm around my shoulders and a shining trophy between my hands. Pictures are mementos, and I appreciate that Devlin wants to take one to remember the moment. Every time I look at this photo, I’m going to relive today.
A moment later, a text comes back.
–Max: Congrats, Bean!
–Me: Thanks. What are you up to? Having fun?
–Max: Yeah. The Bahamas are nice. Wish you were here.
–Me: Me too. But I’m really busy with commissioned work this year, and I’m enjoying newlywed life. Maybe next time.