I wrinkle my nose. “Exactly how I feel before I hit the ice. Every. Single. Time.”
“Is that normal?”
I chuckle, “I think so. April, this place is incredible. You’re incredible. This is going to be the best day.”
She leans into me, and some of the tension siphons out of her shoulders. She looks up at me through her long lashes. “We’ve got this?”
“We’ve got this,” I confirm.
She pulls back and the dimple in her right cheek appears—the smile she saves just for me.
“I love you,” she says.
“I love you too. Now come on. We have a grand opening to win.”
She laughs and I help her finish getting ready, including displaying the Stanley Cup—this is hockey town and while some of the guys said they want to take it to the spa, bring it out for dinner, or host a parade, I want it to be at the Barkery with what I love more than Hockey—April.
By ten a.m., Main Street is packed. The entire Knights team showed up in full force—some with wives and kids, others with dates, all wearing Barkery t-shirts that April had made. Liam, Jack, and Hayden post up around the Cup. Margo and the WAGs transformed the street front into an overflow party. The Busy Bee provides catering, and the Milk Mustache truck is parked outside, serving specialty cookies with paw prints on them.
My parents flew in from Oregon with Claudia and the twins. Even April’s sister, Elise, made it, though her parents—predictably—didn’t. April handled the news with grace, but I saw the flicker of hurt in her eyes before she covered it with determination.
The Love at First Wag campaign coordinator, Sandra, set up an adoption station in the courtyard adjacent to the building with a dozen dogs and cats looking for homes. Even Abigailfrom Channel Nine is here with her cameraman, catching it live.
“This is amazing,” April says as everyone gathers.
“You did an amazing job.”
Just before the official ribbon cutting, I catch Whitaker’s eye across the crowd. He nods once and taps his nose—our signal.
“Ready?” April asks, holding the oversized scissors.
“One second. I need to get something.”
I disappear before she can question it and return, leading a parade down Main Street. All five of our dogs—Moose, Scout, Buster, Purdy, and Lulu—plus Ranger, Bark Wahlburger, Baloo, and every other WAG dog wearing “Furever Family” bandanas.
Behind them, Mikey and Liam are carefully carrying the Stanley Cup.
The crowd goes absolutely wild.
April’s hand flies to her mouth. “Clark Culpepper, what are you doing?”
“Grand opening parade. Only the best for The Barkery.” I hand her Lulu’s leash. “Plus, I figured if the Stanley Cup can visit bars and pools and random fishing holes, it can definitely visit the best dog bakery in Nebraska.”
She’s laughing and crying and hugging me while dogs bark and people cheer and someone—probably Aunt Louise—is definitely filming this for social media.
Purdy yaps and a husky-lab mix pokes her head out of the pack.
“Oh, look. I think one of the puppers escaped from the adoption area,” April says, crouching down.
Whitaker’s smile glints in the sunlight as everything goes to plan.
“Oh, wait. It looks like she has a collar.” April fiddleswith the tags and then goes very still. She glances over her shoulder. “The tag says her name is Blossom.”
I nod slowly, wondering how long it will take her to understand what’s happening. “Today has been perfect, well, except for one thing.”
“What’s that?” Whitaker calls.
This is it. The moment I’ve been planning for weeks.
