Page 8 of The "I Do" Do-Over

I lean forward toward my former classmate as he swipes to another photo, this one of him and Aspen surrounded by their families, everyone smiling so bright. I’m trying to distract myself, but it just makes me sad.

Sad for myself, but glad for Everest. I clap him on the shoulder. “You hit the jackpot. I’m happy for you, man.”

“Thanks,” he says, lowering the tablet. “It’s been quite the journey, but I’m so grateful to have made it to this point.” He gives a dark chuckle. “In more ways than one.”

I nod, remembering the health crisis that drove him and his family from Heartwood all those years ago. “I am too,” I answer, meaning it.

“Well,” Everest’s blue eyes dancing with mischief, “you want me to keep waxing poetic about my wedding pics, or do you want to start talking about the project you’re paying me for?”

“Both,” I say, laughing. “But we probably should look at the rebrand, huh?”

“Probably.” He swipes to a design app on his tablet and pulls up image files. “I know you said you wanted a refresh, something relevant and current.”

“Right. But since I don’t have a single creative bone in my body, I left everything else up to you.”

“Not a creative bone in your body? Boone, you’re inconstruction.”

“And?” I frown, confused.

“Yeah, and it’s all about creativity. Design, creation, fabrication — bringing ideas to life. Ideas that people get to literally live and work in.”

I wave off his words. “What I do is just science. Physics. Nothing artistic, like what you do.”

He shakes his head. “I beg to differ.”

A flush of grateful embarrassment travels down the back of my neck. “Quit with the flattery and show me what you’ve got for me.”

Chuckling, he starts going through the images he’s opened. “I created a few different mockups for the Mountain Builders logo. Keep in mind that these are all just starting points and that they can be iterated upon and evolved to your liking. I started with something basic, simple, and worked my way up to designs that are more complex and intricate.”

He starts swiping through the designs. The first, as Everest said, is a simple logo of blocky, monochromatic text, showing the company name in large letters, with our contact info in a smaller font below.

In the next, the text is less blocky, with some swirls and flourishes around my company name separating it from the contact information. There’s some color, but understated.

When Everest shows me the third, my breath hitches. He’s made a miniature landscape scene out of the logo’s words. The “M” in Mountain Builders is a snow-capped peak. The divider between the company name and contact information is a winding river. The whole thing is surrounded by an intricately painted forest that melts into a lush meadow. And unlike the previous mockups, this design is vibrant with blues and greens.

This isn’t a logo — it’s a work of art.

“This,” I say, stabbing a finger at the tablet. “This is the one.”

“I’ve got some more,” Everest says. “You sure you don’t want to see those?”

I shake my head. “I don’t need to. This is it.”

A small smile snakes across his lips. “I had a feeling you might say that.”

“So decisive. It’s kind of hot,” comes a new voice from the doorway — a familiar voice that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end, my stomach clench, and my heart flood with heat.

Everest and I turn toward the voice.

My mouth drops.

Because leaning against the doorframe of my open office door is Taryn. Her pink hair is longer than I remember, and her skin is more covered in inky tattoos.

But it’s her.

My wife.

“Holy shit,” I murmur, wondering what the hell is happening.

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