Page 77 of Own the Eights Gets Married
“Have you hit your head?” Becca asked.
“No.”
“Did somebody give you a pot brownie, or did you eat some magic gummy bears?” Becca pressed.
Georgie shook her head. “Nope, I’ve been sticking to my cookie dough, but even that doesn’t taste so good anymore.”
“There’s no chance you’ve been drugged, or hypnotized, or had your body highjacked by aliens?”
“No, Becca! Haveyoubeen highjacked by aliens?” she asked, about done with her friend’s antics.
Becca’s expression grew serious. “I’m asking this because you said a wedding that didn’t include an actual wedding could go off without a hitch. I know you’ve been in your head a bunch the past two weeks. But say that slowly and let me know if you still think people wouldn’t notice a wedding without a bride and a groom?”
Georgie leaned against the bookshelf. “We’re ready for a wedding.”
They were.
They’d made all the big decisions during their whirlwind of a trip to the Denver wedding underground.
At this point, there was no way of squeezing the proverbial wedding toothpaste back into the pre-wedding tube.
Perhaps, out of the need for structure or routine or not wanting to let go, she hadn’t hit the brakes.
She’d followed all the frau’s instructions and had gone to her dress fitting and met with the hair and makeup people. She’d smiled and nodded politely at their suggestions. And it wasn’t like it was odd that Jordan wasn’t there. Many brides want to keep their dress and wedding day beauty preparations a surprise. She and Jordan had opted out of a bachelor or bachelorette party—it wasn’t their thing. And, in lieu of a rehearsal dinner, they’d already decided to donate to a food bank.
As far as her mother, Hector, and Bobby—aka the Hydra of Denver—the frau had assigned them a slew of what she called transcendent wedding duties. What did these duties entail? She had no idea. But it had kept the hydra occupied and out of her hair.
In fact, she’d barely heard a peep out of them.
She glanced down at her left hand—the hand without an engagement ring. The wedding frau hadn’t mentioned if it was back from the jeweler, and she hadn’t brought it up.
A sinking feeling set in. Would she ever wear that ring again?
Had her words in the pouring rain sealed their fate?
“You’re not answering the question, Georgie. Are you going to be walking down the aisle? Are you going to marry Jordan?” Becca asked gently.
What was she supposed to say?
She hadn’t said anything to anyone about the catastrophic wilderness boot camp. Jordan was most likely bunking at his dad’s place, and, for all she knew, he told his dad they wanted to be apart before the wedding.
But the one thing she knew for sure was the stalemate between them was real.
Neither had budged. Neither had reached out. Neither had waved the white flag.
The obstinate eight. The inflexible ten.
So much for being more than just a number.
“I…” she began when hushed giggles came from the children’s area.
“We don’t have another story time today, do we?” Becca asked.
Georgie checked her watch. “No, Talya should have finished up the last one over an hour ago.”
“Want me to check it out?” Becca asked, glancing past the shelves of books. “It could be some kids horsing around.”
Georgie shook her head. “I’ll go. You watch the register.”
