Page 24 of Own the Eights Gets Married
Jordan swallowed hard. When did this become a session with Dr. Ruth?
Georgie’s pageant expression was back. “Have we qualified to advance to the next level of the wedding competition?”
The frau frowned. “What?”
Jordan patted Georgie’s back. “What my lovely fiancée means is what happens next? Will you contact us? Should we exchange numbers?”
The wedding frau waved off his questions. “I have all your numbers. I already know everything.”
“I bet you don’t know our blood types,” he tossed out, half-joking, but the wedding planner didn’t laugh.
“O negative and A positive,” she supplied.
He turned to Georgie. “Are you A positive?”
“Yeah,” she answered wide-eyed. “Are you O negative?”
He nodded.
The frau watched them closely. “You did not know this about each other?”
He shook his head. “No.”
Jesus! What kind of boyfriend, now fiancé, was he? What if something had happened to Georgie and God forbid, he needed to know these things?
The frau made another mark in her notebook, then glanced over at her wedding minion. The woman nodded and joined them with two swaths of fabric in her hands. No, not fabric—eye masks. She handed one to Georgie and the other to him.
“Come, now. We’re leaving,” the wedding frau said with a wave of her hand.
“What about our engagement party?” Georgie asked, glancing over her shoulder toward the doors to the ballroom.
“I’m sure your mother and the CityBeat founders will be able to entertain your guests and not mind your absence,” Mrs. Lieblingsschatz answered as she slipped on a pair of Jackie O-esque sunglasses and headed for the exit.
“What the hell is going on?” he whispered to Georgie as they fell in step behind the Angel of Wedding Darkness.
She shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
He threaded their fingers together. “What do you think about all this?”
Georgie lowered her voice. “I think I’ve heard of this wedding frau.”
“You have?” he asked.
She nodded. “I’d heard whispers about an iron-fisted wedding planner from a few happy eights couples who wrote in to thank me for helping them find their way to the altar. But nobody actually talks about her. She was an urban legend to me until now.”
He followed Georgie into the tight space as they navigated the spinning door.
“Urban legend or not, I was hoping our next stop would be our bed,” he said, knowing exactly how Alice must have felt when she tumbled down the rabbit hole.
They exited the revolving door and found a black limousine with a man sporting ado-not-mess-with-meexpression, holding the door open. Jordan glanced past the guy to see the wedding frau’s black boots inside the sleek vehicle.
Georgie touched his arm and grinned up at him with her real smile, not the deranged beauty queen one, and he released the tight breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
“I think we go with it, Jordan. As crazy as this has been so far, this lady still may be better than,you know who.”
“The Hydra of Denver,” he answered in a theatrical tone.
Her not quite blue and not quite green eyes sparkled. “Something like that.”
