Page 101 of Own the Eights Gets Married
“Agreed. From this moment forward, we are firmly on team toilet,” he answered, somewhat aware of the muffled laughter around them. But it didn’t matter. Georgie was here—with conditions—and he was ready to agree to all of her terms.
“Four,” she continued. “Lemon verbena will become the official scent of the More Than Just a Number blog.”
He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “It was my favorite even before I knew what it was.”
Georgie released a shaky breath. “Five, and this one is tough for me, but I’m a strong woman, and I can accept the truth, no matter how hard it may be.”
Nothing moved. It was as if the universe itself were bracing for Georgie’s stipulation. But, good God! What could she be talking about?
She lifted her chin. “Number five, the color rose iskind ofpink—even though it is its own color and holds its own on the color spectrum.”
He gasped. “Really? It is pink? It looks pink to someone not versed in nuanced color shades. Then again, it could be me. Should we have my vision tested? It could be that,” he rambled, then shut his damn mouth, again, wishing for some duct tape, when she turned on the stink eye.
“Kind of pink,” she said, lowering her voice.
Point taken.
He nodded, getting the message loud and clear.
“Okay, I agree. Rose is kind of pink but still a solid color all on its own. And six,” he pressed—so ready to put these two weeks of hell behind him and move forward with the love of his life.
“Six is about time,” she said as another tear trailed down her cheek.
“What about it?” he whispered.
“Time is precious. It’s the most valuable thing we have, and I want to spend as much of it as humanly possible with you. We’re not over. We’ll never be over. The Emperor and Empress of Asshattery have a long reign ahead of them,” she finished, gazing up at him.
A rush of gratitude coupled with an unwavering love for this beautiful, intelligent, driven woman washed over him.
He sank onto one knee, blinking back tears. “I did this all wrong the first time. I thought proposing on TV would be romantic. I had no idea everything would turn into a circus. All I want in this world is to walk through it with you. Georgiana Jensen, we don’t need the cameras and the fame and the notoriety. Between you and me, right here, right now, I am asking you to marry me.” He glanced at his watch. “In four hours and forty-seven minutes.”
A heartfelt chorus of sighs erupted around them.
He held Georgie’s gaze. “Are there a bunch of people watching us?”
She looked from side to side. “Yep.”
“Are they recording us with their phones?” he continued.
She nodded. “Along with a couple of news crews and Barry.”
“Hey, guys! This is some great stuff,” the CityBeat producer chimed through a sob.
“So, what do you say? Are you ready to join the Empire of Asshattery to rule the blogosphere together?” he asked, unbothered by the spectators because only one person mattered now.
The one person who always mattered.
Georgie parted her lips, but before she could answer, a horn rang out, playing the first four notes of “Here Comes the Bride.”
They looked up to see a giant RV with Acme Pet Grooming Mobile painted along the side.
The tinted driver’s side window cracked an inch.
“Jensen and Marks, get in,” came a woman’s commanding voice with a thick German accent.
