Page 150 of The Goat in the Bedroom
I stood to slide the ring on her finger, but before I could kiss her, the bushes around our yard erupted.
“Finally,” Jules screamed, emerging from behind the garage with Flynn and Tempest.
“She said yes,” Freddie shouted, and suddenly our entire backyard was full of people.
Sean and Ren burst out from behind the garden shed, Sean already ugly-crying. Parker and Tempest appeared from the side yard, holding a banner that read “ABOUT DAMN TIME.” Half of Artie's rugby team poured out from various hiding spots, including three who had apparently been in the tree.
“Were you all here the whole time?” Artie asked, looking around in amazement.
“Flynn and I coordinated most everything.” Jules preened but then held up her phone. “Dad is on FaceTime, Gryff. Also Nana and Coach and Grandma and Grandpa De le Reine and Everett and Pen and Chris and Trixie and well... basically everyone in the great state of Colorado.”
Tempest and Parker held up their phones too. “And your dad on mine, and your mom on Parker's.”
“The whole family's watching.” Dad's voice rang out from the phone. “We've been waiting for hours.”
“We helped with the flowers,” one of the rugby players announced. “Coach made us repot those columbines twice because Parker kept saying it wasn't symmetrical enough.”
“It needed to be perfect,” Parker defended.
Vincent, apparently overwhelmed by all the people, had started eating the hem of Ren's designer shirt.
“This goat has excellent taste,” Ren said, not even trying to stop him. “In fashion and in people.”
Sean was already pouring the celebration mocktails, handing them around. “To Gryff and Artie, who literally everyone except them knew were perfect for each other.”
“To the goats who brought them together,” someone else shouted.
“We brought ourselves together,” I protested, but I was laughing.
“Sure you did,” Jules said, already three mocktails in. “That's why it took you six years and an entire support group of meddling friends, family, and goats.”
Artie pulled me down for a kiss, not caring that everyone was watching and cheering. “I love you,” she whispered against my lips. “Even if you did organize the most elaborate proposal in the history of proposals.”
“Flynn and Jules organized most of it,” I admitted. “Mostly planned by Tempest. I think it might be from her next book. I just panicked and agreed to everything.”
“That tracks.” She kissed me again.
“We're getting married,” I said, like I still couldn't believe it.
“We're getting married,” she confirmed. “And our goats are definitely going to be in the wedding.”
Vincent bleated his approval and went back to eating Ren's shirt.
Holly had moved on to the cake that someone had apparently hidden behind a potted plant.
Our friends and family swarmed around us, everyone talking at once, sharing their favorite memories of our obliviousness, placing bets on wedding dates.
“Spring wedding,” Sean called out. “After rugby season, before football.”
“Summer,” Tempest countered. “Outdoor ceremony with the goats.”
“Elope to Vegas and save us all the drama,” Flynn suggested, then yelped as both Jules and Tempest hit him.
I kept my arm around Artie, watching our chaotic, perfect chosen family celebrate in our backyard. This was exactly right, not just the two of us, but everyone who'd been part of our journey, who'd pushed us together when we were too scared to take the leap ourselves.
Vincent had now gathered a following of rugby players who were feeding him flowers from the arrangements. Holly was being carried around by Coach Maher like a baby. Our families were mingling on FaceTime, planning the wedding before we'd even been engaged an hour.
“No regrets?” I asked.
