“But that almost changed, didn’t it, liebchen?”
They glanced over and found Hans from the Denver wedding underground, pushing past a curtain hiding the rest of the RV and sauntering toward them.
“What are you doing here, Hans?” Georgie stammered.
“Did you think I lived in that warehouse like a wedding ring elf with the dildo guy?” the man asked with a teasing expression.
Georgie shared another perplexed look with Jordan.
What the hell was going on here?
The man took the chair next to the frau, then patted her knee.
“We weren’t sure about you two after that business with the alpaca,” he said with a sly grin.
Jordan frowned. “How do you know about the alpaca?”
Hans glanced at the frau.
“Tell them,” she said with an exasperated wave of her hand.
“What did you think you were wearing around your necks at the wilderness boot camp?” Hans asked.
“A tracking device,” Georgie answered.
“Yes, it was a tracking device, but it was also a microphone,” Hans replied. “Didn’t you notice you were the only ones at the boot camp wearing them?”
Georgie gasped. The whole boot camp experience had been so jarring, so utterly discombobulating, she hadn’t even noticed if the other participants were wearing the special lanyards.
“Syd and Buck said it was for our safety and that it was court-mandated?” she answered.
Mrs. Lieblingsschatz chuckled. “Aren’t they creative! They’re dear friends of ours.”
“Ours?” Georgie repeated. “You two are together?”
“Married fifty years today,” Hans said.
“You’re kidding?” Georgie exclaimed.
She’d pegged the woman as a spinster matchmaker!
“Don’t look so surprised. To orchestrate love, one needs to understand it completely,” the frau replied.
“Happy anniversary,” Georgie sputtered.
Jordan lowered his voice. “How do you know Syd and Buck? Were you guys all in the special forces together, or were you spies, once upon a time, thwarting global espionage?”
Georgie nodded. It was a reasonable assumption. After their experiences with both couples, she wouldn’t be surprised to learn they’d overturned a corrupt government or rescued kidnapped political prisoners back in the day.
The wedding frau released a full-belly laugh. “No, our time-share in Florida is next door to theirs.”
“Time-share?” Georgie echoed.
“Yes, near Cocoa Beach. Syd and Buck aren’t always roughing it in the Colorado foothills,” the woman replied.
“And Buck is quite an accomplished pickleball player,” Hans added.
The frau nodded. “We do need to practice before meeting them on the court again.”
Georgie stared at the wedding frau and Hans as the pieces of the puzzle came together.
“Hold on! Did you orchestrate the whole catastrophic wilderness boot camp experience?”
The wedding frau’s expression grew serious. “As a couple, you needed to lose.”
“Lose?” Georgie exclaimed.
“Why would you think that?” Jordan asked.
“We do our homework,” Hans replied.
Georgie glanced between the pair. “What makes you think we needed to lose?”
“Let’s see,” the frau began. “You two are the top bloggers on the CityBeat website. You both won the Battle of the Blogs. You run successful businesses, and before you set foot in the boot camp, you lived together in a cotton candy, lemon verbena-scented, picture-perfect world surrounded by books and bodybuilding equipment where you had ample sex and fawned all over each other. Would you disagree with that assessment?”
Jordan leaned forward. “Cotton candy isn’t in keeping with the healthy eating aspect of our blog. If you wanted to depict our lives pre-boot camp, I’d suggest vegan chocolate chip cookies accompanied by a protein shake, but I get what you’re saying.”
“You needed to have your relationship tested,” the frau said, lowering her voice.
“Why?” Georgie asked.
“To know your marriage would last,” Hans added gently.
Cornelia Lieblingsschatz relaxed into the chair. “You see, I can plan a wedding at the drop of a hat. I have the finest caterers and the most sought-after dressmakers and floral designers at my beck and call. But here’s the thing people forget. A wedding lasts only a handful of hours, but a marriage is meant to last a lifetime.”
“What would make you think Georgie and I wouldn’t have a marriage that would last?” Jordan pressed.
“Because you weren’t in possession of one vital piece of information,” Hans replied.
Georgie frowned. She didn’t like this one bit. Who were these people to decide what they needed as a couple?
“And what would that be?” she challenged.
“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, bu
t 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.
“What does that mean?” Georgie asked.
Hans shared a knowing look with his wife.
“It’s the advice the rabbi gave us fifty years ago before we married,” the man replied.
Cornelia tapped the titanium wedding rings reverently. “He told us to look at our marriage as if we were inhabiting the inside of the wedding band.”
“Often, you’re together in the center, loving and cherishing each other,” Hans continued.
“But, if your husband enrages you by eating the rest of the käsekuchen while you’re sleeping,” the frau said, eyeing Hans.
“German cheesecake,” Hans translated with a chuckle.
The frau continued. “Then, you are on opposite sides of the ring. But you never leave it. You never break the bond. Yes, of course, I am not naïve enough to believe every marriage can last. But I’ll tell you this. Hans and I make it our priority to ensure the marriages we bless and facilitate are the kind that will.” She turned to Hans. “You know, I’m still mad about that cake.”
Hans took the frau’s hand and kissed it. “It was a damn good cake.”
Georgie observed the couple. “That’s beautiful.”
The frau’s expression grew thoughtful. “It was. Not too sweet and just the right firmness.”
Georgie shared a look with Jordan, expecting to find him amused. Instead, he looked guilt-ridden.
“What is it?” she asked him.
“We broke your rule, Mrs. Lieblingsschatz. The one about not…” he said, trailing off as his cheeks grew pink.
“Fornicating,” the frau supplied.
Oh no!
“Are you still telling couples that?” Hans asked.
“It worked for us, didn’t it?” the wedding frau answered.
Jordan cocked his head to the side. “That wasn’t a real rule?”
“Some rules are meant to be broken,” the frau replied.
“Good, because we broke this one. Like really, really broke it,” he answered.
“It also sounded like you made your own rules to bypass my mandate,” the frau added.
Georgie shook her head. “Then, why do you even use it?”
“A little reverse psychology. The forbidden is often the most desired,” the woman answered.
“That’s for sure,” Jordan replied, blowing out a relieved breath.
Mrs. Lieblingsschatz folded her hands in her lap. “The truth is, I was always going to plan your wedding, Georgiana.”
Georgie’s jaw dropped. “You were?”
“Yes, it’s in the contract Hans and I signed many years ago when we decided to expand our wedding planning business.”
“I don’t understand. How would you know that you were always going to plan our wedding?” Jordan asked.
A smirk pulled at the corners of Cornelia’s lips. “Not your wedding, Mr. Marks. Georgiana’s wedding. Her stepfather wrote it into our contract.”
“What?” Georgie shot back. “I thought my mother contacted you.”
“She did, but she doesn’t know about this either. You were just a girl when your stepfather’s company invested in the Denver Wedding Frau.”
“Howard set this up?” Georgie asked, hardly able to believe it.
“Howard Vanderdinkle is discrete, but he wanted the best for you when you decided to get married. Hans and I are the best, so being a prudent investor, he stipulated that his financial support hinged on providing our services to his new stepdaughter when she was ready.”
“Wow, I had no idea,” she answered, thinking back to a few days ago when she and Howard had their first real heart-to-heart.
First, it was the realization he’d invested in CityBeat and now, to learn he’d cared enough about her to solicit the skills of the city’s best wedding duo, made her see the man in an entirely different light.
“That’s why Hans and I needed to make sure Mr. Marks was the right match for you,” the frau finished.
“So, you sent us into the wilderness and made sure the Plumbing Princess and Mr. Rodent Royalty were there, too?” Georgie asked.
Was there anything these two couldn’t coordinate?
The wedding frau narrowed her gaze. “What are you talking about with plumbing and rodents?”
“There was a couple at the boot camp. Jordan knew the woman from when he was in high school, and I knew the man. He was a real creep to me a few years ago and was the reason I started the blog that led me to Jordan.”
“We had nothing to do with that, Miss Jensen,” Hans replied.
“That was all the universe, adding its own test. And appears you passed with flying colors,” the frau added.
Georgie sat there gobsmacked—completely and utterly gobsmacked.
She blinked. Hardly able to believe all that had gone into their wedding and into preparing them for married life. She glanced from the wedding duo to her fiancé—a man who’d proposed to her twice, opened his heart and proclaimed his love for her in front of the world, again, and had carried her dryer lint with him to keep her close.
And that wasn’t all.
She’d learned of Howard’s affection and the kindness of Mrs. and Mr. Lieblingsschatz—three people she’d never imagined had silently had her best interests at heart for many, many years.
“Can we make a change to the wedding ceremony?” she asked.
The frau frowned. “What kind of change?”
“Our family friend, Mr. Gilbert, is walking me down the aisle. Do you think I could have two people do that?”
“Howard?” Jordan asked.
She nodded and blinked away a fresh wave of tears. “Yes.”
The wedding frau snapped her fingers, and a wedding minion emerged from behind the curtain and nodded.
“It’s done,” the woman replied.
“Where did she come from?” Jordan asked, glancing at the set of thick white curtains separating this section from the rest of the RV.
“What’s back there?” Georgie asked.
“The salon,” the frau answered.
Jordan craned his head to try to see past the thick drapes. “There’s a salon back there?”
“I told you when we picked you up. This was our last resort. We’re a fully mobile undercover wedding machine. We’ve got everything here to prepare for your nuptials.”
Georgie tried to get a look. “There are people back there?”
“Yes, and they’re all waiting to get you primped and polished,” the woman replied.
Georgie pressed her hand to her abdomen as butterflies took flight in her belly.
“My dress is here?”
“Of course,” the frau answered with a wave of her hand.
Jordan cringed. “And my tux?”
“Yes, but with a slight adjustment,” the frau replied.
“I can’t smell it from here. That’s got to be a good sign,” he said with a touch of relief.
The wedding frau snapped her fingers again, and another assistant emerged from behind the curtain, holding a sleek black tuxedo.
“That doesn’t look like my dad’s tux,” Jordan said, inspecting the jacket.
“He gave us permission to alter the garment,” the woman answered.
The assistant carefully opened the ja
cket to reveal an electric blue lining.
“I think this is a much better way to honor your family tradition, Mr. Marks,” the frau added.
Jordan released a relieved sigh. “I couldn’t agree more.”
“And there was plenty to make a garter for Miss Jensen,” Hans added as the assistant procured the wedding staple from the breast pocket of Jordan’s jacket and placed it on the table.
Georgie glanced around, still blown away by how everything had come together when she remembered the old wedding adage.
Old, new, borrowed, blue.
“Wait! There’s something we’ve forgotten. We’ve got old with my vintage ring. New, with the titanium bands. Blue, with Jordan’s tux. But what about borrowed?”
“Hans,” the frau said with a twinkle in her eyes.
The man retrieved another felt bag from his pocket and produced a hairpin adorned with an arrangement of tiny pearls.
“The borrowed item should come from a happily married couple. We have two borrowed gifts for you,” Hans explained.
Cornelia Lieblingsschatz gazed at the hairpin. “I wore this when I married Hans. We’d be honored if you wore it today.”
Georgie gently touched the delicate pearls. “It’s lovely. I can’t thank you enough.”
“And the second is the date,” Hans replied.
“The date?” she repeated.
“Fifty years ago, Hans and I were married the third weekend in October,” the frau added.
“This date was good fortune for us, and we hope to pass it along to you,” Hans said, taking the frau’s hand.
“And don’t forget the mother,” Mrs. Lieblingsschatz said, rolling her eyes.
“My mother?” Georgie asked.
The frau leaned in. “Could you imagine what Lorraine Vanderdinkle would be like after a three month, six month, or even a yearlong engagement?”
Georgie shuddered. “There’s not enough psychic energy in all the universe for her, Bobby, and Hector.”
“Psychic energy?” Jordan questioned.
She cupped Jordan’s cheek in her hand. “It’s a long story, but we pretty much owe Mr. and Mrs. Lieblingsschatz for the rest of our lives.”
Jordan held her gaze. “It looks like we’re the real deal, messy bun girl.”
“You’re going to be really late if we don’t get things moving,” the wedding frau said, then clapped her hands.
Own the Eights Gets Married Page 20