Page 65 of The Breakup Broker

“Is about to explode?” Mason suggested, wringing out the hem of his shirt and earning a glare from Maddy that could have stopped the rain entirely.

“Actually,” Savvy said, examining her ring while I wrapped my jacket around her shoulders, “this is marketing gold for your new business. Think about it—‘No matter what goes wrong, we’ll make it right.’” She paused. “Maybe leave out the part about the anatomically correct drone display.”

The barista set down a round of celebratory hot chocolates. “On the house. That was the most entertaining thing I’ve seen in River Bend.”

“A thousand likes,” Mason announced, checking his phone. “And ... yep, someone tagged the Channel 4 news team.”

“The Channel 4 team that Victoria’s on the board with?” Savvy asked innocently.

Victoria lifted her perfectly made cappuccino, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “I may have texted them. This is exactly the kind of heartwarming local story they love.” She paused, taking a sip. “Though we might want to describe it as a ‘technical malfunction’ rather than...”

“Rather than a drone dick?” Mason offered.

“Mason!” Maddy looked scandalized.

“What? I’m calling it what it is. Was. Before it...” he said, making an explosive hand gesture.

“So,” I pulled Savvy closer, breathing in the scent of rain, coffee, and possibility. “When do you want to get married?”

Her eyes met mine, dancing with that mix of mischief and certainty that had made me fall in love with her. “How about tomorrow?”

“Your dad would kill me if he didn’t get to walk you down the aisle.”

“True.” She laughed. “And what kind of wedding planner would I be if I eloped?” She twisted the ring on her finger. “How does summer sound? I think I can whip something together by then.”

“You’re already planning it, aren’t you?”

“Of course, I am. And don’t worry—” she nodded toward where Maddy was now trying to explain to a reporter that she was “revolutionizing proposal technology” while Mason made helpful hand gestures behind her back illustrating exactly what kind of revolution had occurred, “—we’re definitely keeping the drones grounded this time.”

“Two thousand likes,” Mason said, scrolling through his phone. “And someone started a GoFundMe to ‘Save the Love Drones.’”

“You know what this means,” Savvy said, leaning into me as she watched another news van pull into the lot. “This is exactly the story I wanted for my business. Not only the perfect moments but the real ones. The ones that go hilariously wrong and end up better than any plan could have made them.”

Victoria raised her cup in a toast. “To River Bend’s most memorable proposal.”

“Wait till the wedding,” Maddy jumped in, looking up from her mortified slump. “I promise, no aerial displays of any kind.”

“And no painted pigeons,” Mason added.

“That was ONE TIME?—”

I watched Savvy twist the ring on her finger—not the massive five-carat diamond my father kept in the family vault, but something that was purely her—rose gold, with a simple solitaire diamond held in delicate twisting vines. The moment I’d seen it, I’d known. Like I’d known with her.

The rain fell softly outside, a gentle contrast to the chaos of moments before. The river churned below, catching the last glimmers of light from the drowning drones, the water reflecting the messy, beautiful randomness of love. My mother’s raised brow, Mason’s quiet, shaking shoulders, and Maddy’s wide-eyed mix of horror and pride blended into a moment that was impossibly, perfectly them.

Outside, the last drone gave up its fight with the storm, splashing into the Hudson like a final punctuation mark on history’s most spectacular proposal failure.

It turned out that some love stories were born not in calm but in the beautiful wreckage of unexpected chaos.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Savvy – Three Months Later

“Stop fidgeting,” Mom scolded, adjusting my veil for the hundredth time. “You’ll wrinkle the silk.”

I caught her hand, squeezing gently. “The silk survived thirty-two years in that preservation box. I think it can handle a few wrinkles.”

Her wedding dress fit me perfectly, though we’d modernized it. The vintage lace still caught the June sunlight streaming through The Weathered Barn’s restored windows, but now it hugged my curves in a way that would have scandalized 1991.

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