It turns out the producers ofSuite Heartswere delighted to hear, through the local grapevine, that one of their couples was speeding up their nuptials in order to participate on the show. Someone in Honey Hill—and I highly suspect the Cottens, who have a front row seat to today’s festivities—spun the story that Brooke and I have been together for years and were likelyplanning our wedding celebration for a later date but moved it to an elopement when Brooke was selected for the competition. Something we don’t argue with when we greet the crowd of family andSuite Hearts’crew patiently waiting for us.
Brooke and I manage to get through the quick line of questioning awaiting us. She accepts the bear hug both my parents wrap her in, welcoming her officially to the family she’s always been a part of. I ask my dad to marry us, something Breezy graciously agrees to since we hadn’t originally expected to have my parents here today. Then, as Brooke’s distracted with my mom and Gram’s attention, I take the time to make sure my teammates know they aren’t welcome through the doors of the building if those homemade signs come anywhere near the ceremony.
We finally introduce ourselves to Sumer Morrison, the host of the show, who’s far more down to earth than I anticipated, and I think we’re finally in the clear to do this thing until Brooke’s mom hollers from the parking lot.
“Honey! Wait on us!” She’s wearing a white sundress, hair pinned up and curled, and dragging Jerry along at her side. “Whew! We barely made it.”
“Mom… I…” Brooke’s stunned, clinging to my hand. “I didn’t think you’d—”
“Well, I know I didn’t get a direct invitation, sweetheart, which we will most definitely talk about later, but when Owen’s mama called to ask about a joint wedding gift for y’all, I just had to be here.”
Mom gives me an apologetic glance. I’m not sorry Brooke’s mom is here. I know they’re close despite the complicated dynamics of their family, but I don’t want Brooke to feel more confused or unsure than she already does.
“Afraid we beat ya to it, though. Didn’t we, sugar?” Jerry wraps his hand around Ms. McBride’s waist and pulls herclose. “We sealed the deal yesterday. Got hitched at this very courthouse.” He points at a man having a smoke break around the corner of the building. “That guy did the whole ceremony for eighty bucks. Gave Beth a twenty dollar discount for being a repeat customer.”
The man chuckles… and that’ll do it. Brooke’s countenance changes completely. She lets my hand go, then adjusts the garment bag on her shoulder. “Congratulations, y’all. I’m so happy for you and glad you could make it.”
The camera man’s getting every moment of this, and I worry I’m losing her already. So I pivot, grabbing Brooke’s hand and pulling her up the stairs, away from the group. “Let’s not get married in there.”
“What?” She looks genuinely distraught. A good sign.
“Let’s get married…” I glance around, trying to spot any better option, finally narrowing in on a small park at the end of the street where a couple of kids are playing catch. “There.”
“There?” Brooke follows my eyeline and a small but satisfied smile lifts her perfect lips. “Yeah. That would be good.”
“And,” I add, feeling nervous all of a sudden, “I have something for you. I should have given it to you last week, but I, uh… I didn’t know if you’d…” I search for the tiny piece of metal in my pocket and decide to go all in, bringing myself to the ground on one knee, then presenting a tiny, but monumental symbol to Brooke.
“What are you doing?” Brooke takes a step back, bringing her hands to her mouth. But even if I’m terrified, I’m too far committed to turn back now.
“Brooke Lyn McBride. You are my best friend and the only person I want to spend all of my days with. Will you please marry me… in that random field with all of the people we didn’t invite but couldn’t live without…? And I promise to take care of you, to feed you pizza regularly, to be your foot warmer forever, and tohold you close on the longest nights, even when you insist you can make it through on your own. You won’t have to, because I’ll be there. If you’ll let me.”
I’m completely at her mercy as she studies me from above, eyelashes fluttering wildly with emotions—the highest of which very well might be panic, but I’d like to stay optimistic.
“But… you didn’t have to do all this, O. Not when it’s not…” Her eyes leave mine, surveying the audience much like she did last week at the bar. I know I’ve put her on the spot, but I needed to do this right. To make it as authentic as possible. Because for me, and as far as my love for Brooke goes, it’s as genuine as it can get.
“Hey,” I take her fingers in mine, refocusing her attention while still holding the ring around the tip of my index finger. “It’s just you and me, remember?”
She sucks in her lower lip and nods before finally answering, “Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yeah, Babe. Just you and me…”
When she stretches out her hand, I slip the ring onto the most precious of her fingers, and bounce from the ground, pulling her quickly into as much of a hug as my sling will allow, much to the delight of our audience.
“I have something for you, too,” Brooke says shyly against my chest, surprising me with her softness. She digs into her small crossbody purse for a minute and presents me with a vintage, black Ford Bronco diecast. It looks exactly like the model my Gramps and I refurbished and I drove through high school.
“Is this a ‘76?” I gasp, taking the precious gift in my hands.
Brooke bites down on her lips, nodding excitedly, her golden brown eyes shimmering with happiness. These little miniatures have always been a hidden piece of her childhood but a small glimmer she’s shared with me on special occasions. All ofBrooke’s are VW vans, and all of mine, thanks to her, are Ford Broncos.
In the last week alone, she’s gifted me two. And that is not nothing.
“I was saving it for… something else,” she admits. “But I wanted to give you a wedding gift.”
This woman… I’m officially counting down to when I’m allowed to kiss her again.
“I love… it.” I almost flounder in my resolve, ready to throw every word of affirmation and verbal expression of my feelings at her that I can. Instead, with my free arm, I wrap her up and off the ground into another hug and can’t help but breathe her in, grateful that everything is about to change between us but confident that, in many ways, so much won’t. “This is going to be good, Brooke. I’ll take care of you,” I promise.
