“It’s gonna happen,” he replied.
He couldn’t help it. She wore one of her fancy business dresses that turned him on like a teenager at a Katy Perry concert. He’d also dressed up for the occasion in black jeans and another a starched, collared white shirt. Velma had already shown her appreciation for his effort by promptly undressing him that morning. Dean was making him wear a fucking tuxedo for his wedding. Brek held high hopes for Velma’s reaction to him in a tux.
The radio propped against his hip cracked to life. “Dean to Brek.”
He pressed the button on the side and raised the mic speaker to his lips. “Brek here.”
“Cones are set. I’ve got traffic diverted. Where are you at?” Dean’s voice muffled toward the end.
“Two minutes out,” Eli replied for him.
“Okay.” Brek dropped the radio to his lap and rubbed his hands together. “Boys and girls, this is how it’s gonna go. We’ve gotta be in and out before the cops show up. I’m thinking we’ve got about five minutes before anyone realizes we have no business being where we’re about to be.”
“Cops?” Sophie asked, her voice higher than usual.
He swung the light from the flashlight her way, so shadows danced across her face.
“Don’t worry, we’ll be gone before they arrive. We’ve got all the traffic stopped at the intersection of Broadway and Fourteenth Street. Pops, you’re out first. Then the photographer, then Velma, then me, then Troy, then Sophie.”
Everyone seemed to be following. Although, Velma didn’t seem to be breathing. “Breathe, V. No one’s getting arrested.”
She gulped a lungful of air.
“We’re getting married where we met?” Sophie asked, her tone dreamy.
“It’s almost perfect.” Troy’s voice was husky.
“Almost?” Sophie asked.
Troy slipped her the wooden case holding the family heirloom pearls. It took some effort, but Brek had gotten the regurgitated pearls restrung.
“Totally romantic.” Sophie wore a cheek-to-cheek grin. Regurgitated pearls apparently did that to a chick.
Troy helped Sophie latch the necklace at the back of her neck. “I can’t believe we never thought of getting married where we met.”
Yeah, well, her previous wedding endeavor had been about keeping up with the Joneses. This one was all aboutthem. About their story. Who they were and who they would become as a couple. Brek couldn’t hold back a smile. Totally perfect.
“We’ve got a problem,” Jase’s voice came through the radio. “God’s spitting on us.”
Velma, apparently back on her game, pursed her lips and gave him a solid I-told-you-so look. “I think he means it’s raining.”
Brek held the radio to his mouth and smirked. “We’ve got umbrellas.”
Velma was already on it, pulling out the umbrellas and handing one to Pops and one to Brek. “I’ll hold for Sophie; you get Troy. Pops can hold his, and Dean can hold for the photographer.”
“Dean is on traffic duty.” Brek checked the latch on his umbrella to be sure it’d pop open.
“I’m good. I’ve got a waterproof case on this. Figured it might rain today,” the photography guy, Alan, said.
Velma gave Brek another look. This time she shook her head.
“Coming up,” Eli said through the radio.
“Ready,” Brek replied.
The van lurched to a stop. Several cars outside honked in apparent disagreement with their decision to park in the middle of the street. The door slid open and the plan went into action. A thundercloud rolled in the distance. Brek popped his umbrella open and hopped out of the van. He immediately helped Velma down. She tripped over the lip of the edge, right into his arms.
He caught her. “Eyes on me. Don’t look down.”
