“Then you’re leaving.” But he’s not trying very hard to escape.
“I live here too. Or I will soon enough.” I grin at him, victorious. “Admit it. You’ve pictured it.”
“I’ve pictured nothing.” He’s lying, and we both know it.
“Liar.” I poke him again for good measure.
He sighs, defeated, his shoulders dropping. “Fine. Maybe once.”
“Where?” I’m leaning in now, invested.
“Poppy—” He tries to dodge, but I’m relentless.
“Where was our hypothetical wedding that you definitely didn’t think about?” I’m not letting this go.
He sighs again, longer this time. Defeated. “The courthouse. Simple. Just us and whatever witnesses we could grab. No fuss. No chaos. No goats.”
“That’s…” I pause, genuinely touched. “Actually really sweet.”
“It’s practical.” He’s trying to maintain his composure.
“It’s perfect.” I kiss his pink ears, feeling them heat under my lips. “But there would definitely be a big reception. Fairy lights. All our family and friends.” I’m grinning now because I can actually picture it.
“We’ll negotiate.” He sounds resigned to his fate.
“We’ll do no such thing.” But he’s smiling, and I know I’ve won.
I go back to my sketches, but I’m smiling too hard to focus. Three weeks. Cross-country road trip. New life. New city. New everything.
With a man who loves me, a dog who needs therapy, and a future that’s completely uncertain.
I’ve never been happier.
Or more terrified.
But that’s okay. We’ll figure it out.
Together.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
For Better or Worse (But Mostly Better)
Poppy
One Year Later
George is eating my veil.
“George. No. Bad goat. Drop the—GEORGE!”
He looks me dead in the eye and takes another bite. Two thousand dollars of French lace, and this asshole’s treating it like an appetizer.
“I’m going to turn you into kebabs,” I tell him.
He bleats. Victorious. A piece of tulle hanging from his mouth like a trophy.
“Everything okay in here?” CeCe pokes her head into the bridal suite, takes in the scene—me in my wedding dress wrestling a goat, George looking smug—and starts filming. “This is content gold.”
