Page 102 of The Girlfriend Goal
"Jared," Matt began, voice steady despite his shaking hands. "You're the most dramatic, challenging, incredibleperson I've ever met. You make every day an adventure, usually involving costume changes and strongly worded Yelp reviews."
"I'm discerning!" Jared protested through tears.
"You're perfect," Matt corrected. "Perfectly yourself, which is all I've ever wanted. I love your rants about proper tea brewing. I love that you can't watch sports without providing commentary that has nothing to do with the game."
"Someone has to discuss the uniform aesthetics."
"I love you," Matt continued. "Every extra, wonderful, overwhelming inch of you. Will you marry me?"
"Yes!" Jared launched himself at Matt before he could even open the ring box. "Did you think I'd say no? I already planned our wedding. Twice!"
The restaurant erupted in applause as they kissed, then kissed again when Matt finally managed to get the ring on Jared's finger.
"Spring wedding," Jared announced to our table. "You're all in the wedding party. Non-negotiable. Lance, you'll need to work on your posture."
"My posture's fine," Lance protested.
"It's adequate. We're aiming for exceptional." Jared admired his ring. "Oh my God, I'm engaged. I'm going to be a husband. A hockey husband!"
"The most dramatic hockey husband," Rachel laughed, hugging them both.
The celebration continued late into the night, culminating at a karaoke bar where Matt and Jared's "Total Eclipse of the Heart" brought down the house. Lance and I swayed to their performance, content to watch our friends' joy.
"We're next," he murmured in my ear. "Fair warning."
"Next for karaoke?"
"Next for everything." He spun me into a dip that made me squeak. "But yeah, also karaoke."
We murdered "Islands in the Stream" with enthusiasm if not skill, but nobody cared. We were young and successful and stupid in love, surrounded by chosen family in a city that felt like home.
"Hey," Rachel caught me outside while the others debated song choices. "Thank you for being patient while I figured out how to be brave." She wound her arms around my neck. "For showing me that love doesn't have to mean losing myself."
"You're the brave one," I corrected. "Taking chances on us when every instinct said to run."
"Best chance I ever took," she said simply, then kissed me like that first time – full of promise and certainty and forever.
Inside, Jared was organizing group photos with military precision, demanding "authentic joy" while arranging people by height. Matt looked at him like he'd hung the moon, even while being bossed around.
"Get in here!" Jared commanded. "We need documentation of this historic moment."
We squeezed in, Lance's arm around my waist, surrounded by the people who'd become our foundation. The photo would join dozens on our walls – visual proof of the life we'd built.
"To the future." Jared raised his champagne. "To love that conquers fear. To friends who become family. To my impeccable taste in engagement rings."
"To Jared," Matt countered, pulling his fiancé close. "Who made me brave enough to be myself."
"To all of us," I added, looking at Lance. "For choosing love over logic."
"Every time," Lance agreed, kissing me as glasses clinked around us.
Later, walking home through Seattle's drizzle, I fingered the pendant at my throat – hockey stick and soccer ball intertwined. Like us, I thought. Different paths that somehow led to the same place.
"I love you," I told Lance.
"I love you too," he replied. "Seattle looks good on you."
"You look good on me," I countered, making him laugh.
"Forever?" he asked, like always.
"Forever," I confirmed, like always.
And in the city that had become ours, with rain misting our faces and neon reflecting in puddles, I knew we'd make good on that promise. We'd chosen each other over fear, over distance, over every logical reason to walk away.
Best chance we ever took.
