Page 104 of Own the Eights Gets Married
“You needed to know that even at your worst, your love and commitment to each other would carry you through the hard times,” the frau answered.
Georgie’s trifecta nodded.
Holy wedding bells!
The woman was right.
“You, Georgiana, will always be a little bit of a beauty queen, and Jordan will always be a little bit of an overachieving asshat. That’s the word, right? Asshat?” the frau asked, turning to Jordan.
He shrugged. “Asshat or the Emperor of Asshattery. It’s up to Georgie to make that call.”
Hans pinned them with his gaze. “What you need to understand is when you agree to marry someone, you commit to marrying the whole person. That includes all the quirks and the peculiarities. There will be good times, and we pray they outweigh the bad. But life isn’t always fair, and you need the knowledge of knowing your love will get you through whatever obstacles come your way.”
Georgie sat there, completely stunned when Jordan reached for her hand and twined their fingers together.
“But we almost didn’t make it,” he said, the words coming out cracked and broken.
“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, Mr. Marks,” Hans corrected.
The hint of a smile bloomed on the frau’s lips. “In the days after you left the boot camp, neither one of you said a word about calling off the wedding. You’re both stubborn as mules, but your hearts know what matters most.”
Georgie drummed her fingers on her thigh. “But after hearing everything we said to each other during the bridal boot camp, how could you think that? Even I didn’t know until today what was going to happen,” she added.
Without a word, Hans pulled two small felt pouches from his pocket. He poured the contents of the first bag into his hand. There, sparkling under the lights and as beautiful as the day Jordan slipped it onto her finger, was her antique diamond engagement ring.
“I think you always knew you’d be wearing these,” the man said, slipping a pair of matching titanium wedding bands from the other pouch.
“Our rings,” she whispered, staring at the bands glinting in the light.
Hans passed her engagement ring to Jordan. “Here, Mr. Marks, let’s have you do the honors. I sized the ring myself, so it should fit perfectly.”
Jordan carefully took the ring from where it rested on Han’s palm, then turned to her.
“Let’s see if the second time is a charm,” he said with a slight shake to his voice.
She held out her hand and watched as Jordan slid the engagement ring onto her finger.
And time stopped.
The breath caught in her throat, and everything stilled.
Life provides so many memorable moments. Snapshots in our minds as crystal clear today as they were when they occurred. The day she received her very own library card. The minute she set foot in the animal shelter and saw Mr. Tuesday. Her first encounter with Jordan, shirtless and glistening in all his hot-bod glory and brimming with a life-supply of asshattery.
“Hans, look! One of the prongs is bent,” the frau said, but Georgie couldn’t look away from her fiancé.
“It must have happened in my pocket. It’s a quick repair. I can fix it now,” Hans replied, reaching for her hand.
“No, it’s just as it should be,” she answered.
“But it needs to be perfect,” the man countered, leaning in to examine his work.
Georgie shook her head. “No, it’s better than that. It’s us. It’s who we’re meant to be—all flaws and jagged edges. All asshats and pageant princesses. It’s everything.”
Jordan held her gaze. “We aren’t big on perfect, but we know how to be us.”
“I see,” Hans said, sitting back in his chair.
“Now, all you have to do is stay inside the ring,” the wedding frau remarked.
