He softens his voice. “Let me do something for you.”
I take a deep breath and nod. “Okay. I’d appreciate that. But we don’t have much of a budget—”
“Don’t worry about that,” he assures me. “We’ll take care of it.”
“You really don’t have to.”
He shrugs. “The guys and I have been trying to figure out something to do for you and Brook to say thanks for feeding and housing us every Sunday this year. This would be a good way to repay the favor.”
I stare at him uncertainly. “The rest of the guys are willing to help with wedding plans?”
“They would be if I say you want help.”
Having a few extra sets of hands would be nice. Even if the people helping me out are my fantasy football opponents and co-workers, it would make a big difference.
“I’ll talk to Brook—”
“And I’ll go rally the troops,” Gio says, rising from his seat. “Give me one hour.”
He’s out the door before I can fully decide whether or not this is a good idea. Sure, I said Brook and I didn’t care about the trappings involved with a wedding, but I’m not exactly dying to have a wedding at Gio’s favorite restaurant or officiated by the guy J.J. buys his weed from.
The thought of that has me more than a little nervous when I call to tell Brook about Gio’s offer.
Playoffs Week Two Recap: North’s Lady Advances to the Finals
Well, she did it. North’s Lady managed to live up to her post-draft hype and earned a spot in the Championship. That almost never happens. And she did it by beating out last year’s league champion—the Real J.J.
As long as her players stay healthy and keep up the high level of playing they have all year, there is little question this team will take home this year’s Mega Ballerz championship trophy. She’ll take on Turn Down for Wade next week.
I hope they have a trophy. North’s Lady and her team definitely deserve one.
Chapter Twenty-Five
WE’RE GETTING MARRIED—TODAY! Even though it’s about to happen, I can’t believe it worked out. Gio missed his calling. If the dealership ever does close, he’ll have no problem finding work as a wedding planner.
With Brook’s blessing, and eventually mine, in an afternoon Gio secured us a venue, caterer, florist, officiant, and live music with the help of our friends.
Now here we are, about to do this a few days before Christmas—under budget and with minimal stress. Talk about a miracle.
Gio arranged for us to have the wedding and reception at the dealership. Mom nearly had palpitations when I told her, but they moved the cars out of the showroom. And with the right lighting and decorations, it doesn’t even look like work. I took a sneak peek on my way in this afternoon. I found out Wade and J.J. did most of it. They could go into business with Gio.
Paul’s mom—who owns the cupcake shop I discovered earlier this fall—made us our cake for a song.
“She’s been wanting to expand her wedding business for a while now,” Paul had explained. “Your cake is a good way for her to practice. As long as you don’t mind being a practice client.”
Do I mind a last-minute wedding cake from a professional baker for a fraction of the cost? Heck no. And when Anderson had volunteered his wife’s best friend’s catering service, who was I to say no?
Vien and his wife blocked off a couple of hours for us at one of their salons. Dylan’s younger brother—who runs his own photography business—will take photos. He even took engagement photos on the fly for us last week.
Amelia, Meg, and Joleen helped me make the bouquets and centerpieces with fresh flowers this morning. My brothers took care of getting our family and friends into town and settled.
The real topper was when Wade dropped in my office and offered to officiate our ceremony.
“I went online and got certified for another friend’s wedding over the summer,” he said. “I’d be honored.”
Even Anderson had jumped on board with everything. You’d think he would have put up some resistance—especially considering that I’m leaving the dealership in January and we have to train Kelsey, my replacement, before we move to Seattle.
The display of support from our friends, family, and strangers is overwhelming. Happy as I am that Brook’s and my spontaneous, yet carefully considered decision to get married and move across the country within the month is happening, I can’t shake that it’s all too easy. Like maybe we should have to work harder to make it work. Like maybe we’re not deserving of everyone’s kindness. Particularly, because most of it comes because Gio seems to think I’m entitled to repayment.
“Maybe it’s the spirit of the season,” Brook had offered up when I shared my concern. “People want to help out other people this time of year. It’s one of the best parts about the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas.”
“But there are so many people needing more help than us.” I glance around at our apartment. “We should be helping them instead.”
“So let’s help them instead.” Brook took our wedding checklist and crossed off Create bridal registry. “Tell everyone to make a donation to a charity of their choice—or we can pick a couple of our own—rather than buy us anything.” He’d pulled me into his arms then and said, “As for everything else coming together so nicely, it’s like you said about Seattle. Maybe it’s a sign this is right.”
Now it’s almost time. In a few minutes, we’re getting married.
And in a few more hours, I’ll be crowned as the new league champion when the last game of the fantasy season ends. I’m already ahead of Wade by ten points, and his kicker is going up against Duke Smith, my unstoppable running back. This is basically as close to a sure thing as anyone could ever get.
After last night’s game, which was interrupted briefly by a quick rehearsal and dinner, Wade assured me he didn’t begrudge my inevitable victory. I was the bride, after all, and I’d earned it.
Only a little more than a year ago, I never would’ve imagined I’d be getting married or winning a fantasy football championship. Talk about a true Cinderella story.
Oh. That’s a good idea for next year’s team name. Cinderella’s Players. Or maybe Cinderella’s Team. Cinderella’s Fellas? I’ll take some time to mull it over. The team motto is easy enough. “The only ice this princess needs is a championship ring.”
I should probably write these ideas down so I don’t forget them in the off-season. I grab my cell phone and type a note to myself.
“Put your phone down, dear,” Mom says for probably the hundredth time this weekend, interrupting my train of thought. “You were on your phone all day yesterday. Give it a rest.”
Narrowly avoiding rolling my eyes, I turn my phone back over and set it on my desk. My dear, sweet mother doesn’t understand the importance of staying updated on player health. Meanwhile, I can’t figure out why it bothers her so much. It’s not like my checking fantasy stats will get in the way of the wedding.
If anything, the much-needed distraction is keeping me focused on something other than the fact that in just a couple of hours, I’ll be getting married. Which is exciting, but . . .
Okay, I’m kind of nervous, which the hair stylist tells me is normal. I’m not worried about the marriage, per se, but about promising to spend the rest of our lives together in front of God and these witnesses. It’s kind of huge.
From her vantage point behind me, my mother instructs the hair stylist to add more spray to the low-lying chignon I’d gone with to accompany the blusher Meg found in a boutique.
“It’s fine,” I insist. “I want this to last through the wedding, not take me through a battle on top of a windy building.”
“What a strange analogy,” Mom murmurs, gesturing to the stylist to go ahead and add that extra bit of spray. “Nancy MacLaughlin is here with the flowers. They looked lovely, but . . . I thought they needed just a little something extra. We added a few more sprigs of holly.”
Great. Becau
se this wedding needs more holly. And hair spray. And any of the other little extras my mom stepped in to add at the last minute. But she’s excited. In a way, this is her day, too. It’s our family’s day. We’re all becoming a family.
“Now,” Mom asks, resting her hands on my shoulders to peer at my reflection in the mirror, “how would you feel if we added a little glitter to your décolletage?”
Maybe we should have eloped.
“Mom.” I meet her gaze in the mirror. “No glitter.”
“But—”
“No glitter.”
“I . . . I just want you to be the blushing bride I always imagined.” She folds her arms and a pout sets in. “You only get married once.”
“Hopefully,” I say dryly, earning another glare. “Kidding. Brook and I are in it to win it. You don’t have anything to worry about. And I’ll be a blushing bride,” I add. “Without glitter.”
She lets out a heavy sigh, like she’s being forced to make the biggest concession of her life. “Fine. I just want—”
“Everything to be perfect,” I finish for her. “And it will be. As long as we make it to the altar, say ‘I do’ or ‘I will,’ and sign that document we picked up from the courthouse, we’ll be good to go.”
“I suppose.” She chews on her lip. I’m on the verge of reminding her that she’s already put on her lipstick, but I don’t. She doesn’t need anything else to worry about. “If only we’d had more time to plan a wedding.”
“Mom, we don’t need more time,” I say gently. “Today is about . . . beginning a marriage, and a new family—”
“Are you pregnant?”
My jaw drops at my mother’s blurted out question. After how much everyone has been talking about Brook and I getting married the past few months, you’d think they’d be thrilled we were going for it and quit asking if I’m pregnant. “No . . . not the last time I checked.”
“Then why did you mention starting a family?” She inspects me more closely, and I can practically see her trying to measure my “glow” factor and if I’m looking a little pudgier around the middle.
“Because we are starting a family.” I stop short of letting out another sigh. “We’re all a family. Brook and I are a family and will be even if it’s only ever just us. And Blitz.”
I wish we could have figured out a way to incorporate the cat into our wedding. Unfortunately, Blitz would have probably spent the day trying to scale the statuesque Christmas tree in the lobby instead of being the ring bearer. Pity. How cute would he have been trotting down the aisle carrying our rings?
Okay. It would’ve been a disaster. Better delete that image from my mind.
Mom’s eyes narrow. “Are you saying you aren’t going to give me any grandchildren?”
“You already have a grandchild,” I remind her.
She pulls her lips tight and gives me a you-know-what-I-meant glare.
“Mom . . . Brook and I are getting married today. Let’s get through the wedding first. I’m only doing this once, remember?” I tease. “I want to make sure it gets its due.”
That appears to appease my mother for the moment. The reminder that Brook and I are in this to win in it, so to speak, and that today is an important milestone in our relationship—the start of our new family together, regardless of how many grandchildren we give her—is enough. With that bit of tension resolved before it could get out of hand, my next step is to walk down the aisle, or rather the staircase, to meet my future husband.
Oh, I just love saying that.
DESPITE MY MOTHER’S best effort to keep me away from my phone until after the wedding, I manage to bribe Jackson into sneaking it away from her purse in exchange for the first cupcake at the reception. It’s killing me not to know how my fantasy team is faring. And while getting married tonight had seemed like a good idea, I now wonder what I was thinking. I swear, I will never get married during football season again. Ever.
(I’m sure Brook will be thrilled to discover my new resolution. He’ll probably be even happier that I’m pretty set on this being my only wedding, because I’m planning on this relationship sticking.)
The point is, in a few minutes, I’ll be making the most important promise of my life. I need to approach it with a full heart and collected mind. And I won’t be able to do that unless I can see how Wade’s and my players are doing in this final showdown of the season.
I hastily pull up the fantasy app—casting a cursory glance around to ensure that my mother has in fact gone to the lobby to welcome guests.
The scores finally load, and I can’t believe what I’m seeing. My jaw drops, and I nearly drop my phone. “What the—”
“Oh shit,” Amelia interrupts from the doorway. “Who gave you the phone?”
“One of the kids. Why would you guys keep something like this from me?”
She lets out a sigh. “Because we knew you’d be upset. If it makes you feel any better, Wade is really sorry. He didn’t think—”
“No one could imagine Duke would go out in the first play of the game.” I shake my head. “Wade is ahead of me by three points. And there’s still half a game left. His kicker could still put more points on the board. I’m done.”
I give that a moment to sink in. My virtually perfect season is over. I suppose I jinxed myself by getting cocky about the whole thing. And honestly, this stings. I’ve never liked losing, but this is almost incomprehensible. How disappointing.
Amelia steps forward and places a hand on my shoulder in comfort. “I’m sorry.”
“No.” I shake my head, and order myself to stop the pity party before it can even begin. “Wade was a formidable opponent all season, and he deserves this win as much as anyone. Second place isn’t a major tragedy.” It doesn’t take much effort for me to smile. “Besides. It’s only a game. Some things are more important than winning.”
She squeezes my shoulder. “Plus, you’re about to marry my brother and officially become my sister. I’d say you’re a pretty big winner.”
She’s right. A few minutes later, when my parents walk with me down the makeshift aisle and I see Brook waiting for me, love in his eyes and a smile even brighter than when his team won the state title last month, football is the last thing on my mind. I’m about to embark on the greatest adventure of my life—marriage with the man I love. A cash pool and bragging rights don’t compare.
Wade shoots me a nervous glance when I reach the end of the aisle and take Brook’s hand. It’s like he’s silently asking if I plan to murder him or if he should go ahead and start the ceremony. I hope my smile is answer enough.
Clearing his throat, he begins. “Friends, family, and people who Harper and Brook have mercilessly defeated in fantasy football—” He pauses abruptly while everyone chuckles. “We are gathered here tonight to celebrate the marriage of Harper Elena Duquaine and Brook Thomas MacLaughlin. As most of you know, Harper and Brook met through our fantasy football league. She was a newbie trying to make her way. He was a seasoned veteran. And they found each other.”
I choke back a giggle at Wade’s dramatic introduction. I exchange a glance with Brook, who also appears to be fighting laughter.
“Brook later told me he knew he was going to marry Harper when she nearly cussed him out for drafting the quarterback she wanted.” There’s another murmur of laughter. Brook grins down at me and winks. “And Harper told me she knew he was the one when she saw—and liked—the way he filled out a pair of khakis.”
The room erupts. I nearly drop my bouquet, but Brook holds on tight and keeps me—and my flowers—upright. I changed my mind. I am going to kill Wade. Just as soon as his signature dries on the marriage certificate. I can feel Brook’s shoulders shake, and I turn my glare on him. It only makes him laugh harder.
Leaning his head forward, he whispers, “I love you” a second before his lips capture mine in a brief, but tender, kiss.
I cling to his hands more tightly.
“You know,” Wade continues, “fantas
y football is a lot like marriage.”
I roll my eyes, and Brook squeezes my fingers. “Just go with it,” he whispers in my ear.
“Both take patience and hard work. Both take commitment and perseverance. Both take heart and can be a lot of fun. And when you assemble the right team, well, you’re unbeatable.” Wade places a hand on my shoulder and the other on Brook’s. “Together, there’s no stopping the two of you.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
WE DID IT—WE’RE MARRIED. Our brief ceremony went off without a hitch and had plenty of laughs and only a couple of tears. And not just from me. Brook had choked up when he said his vows. And when Wade—who had the good manners to not make any jabs about his imminent surprise fantasy football victory—pronounced us husband and wife, I’d never been happier.
After we finish taking a million photos, and everyone has a cocktail in their hands—except for the kids, who have sparkling cider—we start the reception.
The lights from the Christmas tree paired with the strings of fairy lights and candles set a clear, calming light across the room. A light murmur of conversation mixes pleasantly with the live music J.J. arranged for us.
Over the plates of pecan-crusted sole—for me—and filet mignon—for Brook—I catch Gio’s eye and mouth a “thank you” across the room. He came through for us. All our friends did.
Brook was right. It’s all a sign pointing to what we’ve already known almost as long as we’ve known each other. We’re supposed to be together.
While we cut the wedding cake, I notice Wade watching me nervously. He feels badly that in another hour he’ll have enough points to beat me in this week’s game and take the league championship trophy. I should probably end his worry and tell him that it doesn’t matter to me. I put together the best team I could. I played by the rules, and I came close to winning. In the end, it doesn’t matter. Knowing I did my best is enough.
Going for Two Page 26