Chapter 31 Ollie
OLLIE
It’s awesome, watching Phoebe do what she loves and what she’s brilliant at.
The way she’s comfortable speaking to the judges and keeps her composure with a camera in her face is a skill I wish I had.
Even with media training and giving countless interviews, I’ve never felt that level of comfort—or hid my discomfort, at the very least.
I have compassion for the teams that didn’t make it to the next round, but there’s no containing my pride that Phoebe and Andie are advancing.
In my opinion, the sorority sisters are their main competition.
Samples of the different treats are set out for us to try.
Everyone is swarming Phoebe and Andie’s selections like seagulls on the Boardwalk after the last bucket of fries.
Lots of “wow” and “OMG, these are so good!” so that’s a good sign.
Hopefully, even if they don’t win, this contest will drum up some business for them.
After production removes the microphones from the girls, they join us in the audience.
Phoebe walks right into my embrace, and it’s the most settled I’ve felt in days.
Between traveling and losing, uncertainty about my future in hockey, and keeping my worries to myself so Phoebe could focus on preparing for today, it’s been a lot.
But now that we’re together and she’s okay, I’m okay.
Closing my eyes, I rest my cheek on the crown of her head and feel the peace wash over me.
It doesn’t matter what else is going on in the world. As long as I have Phoebe, all is well.
“Hey, I want a hug too,” Shelby says from beside me, so I reluctantly loosen my hold. The sisters hug the best they can with Shelby’s baby belly in the way.
Once the hugs are done, we go to the university’s food court to get lunch.
We’re the focus of a lot of stares and whispered conversations.
It’s unnerving. Of course, I’m used to being watched when I’m on the ice, but I have my uniform and helmet to hide behind.
Since it’s Friday and class is in session, the food court is full of a mix of students, faculty, and Pastry Pro-affiliated folks.
Everyone is respectfully restrained while we’re eating, but once we start clearing our tables and getting up to go back to the kitchen lab where the contest is being held, we’re approached by people wanting autographs.
Not only from the Devil Birds, either. People request Phoebe and Andie’s too.
Daphne, ever prepared for situations like this, pulls out a pack of markers from her purse and hands them out so we’re able to sign what’s put in front of us. Then, like the pro that she is, she expertly wraps up the impromptu autograph session and gently herds us back to where we need to go.
“Good luck,” I whisper against Phoebe’s lips before kissing her.
I love seeing my last name on her back as she walks away.
I want it to be our last name. Shelby is sitting alone, and I take the opportunity to speak to her in relative privacy.
Well, as private as anything can be in a room full of shifters.
“Hey, Shelby, I want to marry your sister,” I say without preamble.
She’s rubbing her belly as she cocks her head at me and furrows her brow. “I know,” she says, “you’re engaged.”
Nodding, I run a hand through my hair. Shit, I’m nervous.
“I mean I want to marry her now. I don’t want to wait until the end of the season.
I want to be at the township clerk’s office first thing Monday morning to apply for the license and find someone to marry us seventy-two hours later.
If that’s what Phoebe wants. I want what you and my brother have, what my parents have. ”
“What about your parents? You know they’ll want to be here. Violet too.”
Sighing, I lean back in my chair. “I know. I want them there. I’m afraid if we wait too long the baby will be here.” I cut myself off because I realize I sound like a jackass. “I mean…”
She chuckles and squeezes my arm. “Relax, Ollie, I know what you mean. You don’t want me going into labor in the middle of your ceremony or get married in my living room while I’m nursing. I don’t want that either. Have you spoken to Phoebe about this?”
“Not yet. I will tonight. If she wants a big event, then we’ll wait. I want whatever makes her happy—all I care about is being married to her.”
She chuckles. “Ollie, I think she’s as eager to be married as you are.
If we produced an officiant and license right now, she’d be ready.
I know I told her she couldn’t get married without me there, but honestly, I love you both, and I want you to be happy.
If you jumped on a plane to Vegas tonight and did it, I’d be fine, but FaceTime me so I can watch. ”
“You’re eloping to Vegas?” Daphne’s voice booms from behind us. How can someone that pregnant move that silently?
Phoebe’s head shoots up from where she and Andie are going over a sheet of paper at their workstation, her eyes wide in shock. There’s nothing to do other than wiggle my fingers in a wave and mouth, “We’ll talk later.”
She nods once and turns her attention back to the paper.
But the way she’s suddenly clutching her engagement ring where it hangs from a chain around her neck tells me she’s not completely focused on her task.
Shit. I don’t want her distracted. Slipping out of my seat, I go to their workstation.
The afternoon’s competition hasn’t started yet, and the girls aren’t even wearing their mic packs yet.
“Do you have a sec?” I ask Phoebe.
She glances at Andie, who nods. “We’re good.”
“Thanks, Andie.”
Phoebe slips from behind the workstation, and I take her hand to lead her out a side door to a quiet hallway.
“Why was Daphne talking about eloping to Vegas?” Phoebe asks as soon as the door clicks behind us.
Shrugging, I quirk my lips to the side.
“That’s Daphne being Daphne. I was talking to your sister about how I can’t wait to marry you.
I don’t want to wait until the end of the season or whenever, I want to get married as soon as possible.
Me, you, our siblings, my parents, and an officiant are all I need, and even with that, I’m willing to be flexible. I only want you to be my wife, Phoebe.”
“Ollie!” she exclaims, her eyes shining with tears. Of joy? Or have I screwed up royally?
The door opens a crack, and Andie sticks her head out. “Sorry to interrupt, but they’re getting started again. Everything okay?”
Phoebe nods and, since she’s still in my embrace, bangs the top of her head into the underside of my chin, making us jump apart in pain.
I blink back the sudden tears flooding my eyes as I rub my chin. “You okay?”
“Yeah, my head is harder than your chin. I’m sorry. Let me kiss it and make it better.” She leans forward and presses a featherlight kiss to my bearded chin. I do feel better. But I wasn’t asking about her head, I was asking about her heart.
Grabbing the door to open it fully, I follow Phoebe back into the competition. A production assistant rushes over to place the mic pack on her, and I go back to my seat in the audience.
“Is she okay?” Shelby asks.
There’s no stopping the goofy grin spreading across my face. “She’s wonderful.”
My sister-in-law gives my biceps a light punch. “I know that, but is she okay about the wedding?”
“She is. We need to figure out logistics, but she’s on board with getting married whenever. She wants you to be happy, but beyond that, she wants us married and starting our lives together.”
Daphne leans forward as much as her baby belly allows.
“Okay, the Shifting Pines clerk’s office has Saturday hours tomorrow, and you have an appointment at 9 a.m. to apply for your license.
Both of you need to be there with birth certificates and IDs, and you need to bring a witness with you.
Seventy-two hours after the application is submitted, one of you can pick it up, and then you have sixty days to get married.
So you could be married as soon as Tuesday afternoon. ”
“Wow, how did you do all of that?” I ask in amazement.
“I have skills,” she says with a modest shrug.
“My Uncle Harry is the mayor of Shifting Pines,” Teagan says from behind us. I didn’t know she had arrived. “He says he’d be happy to officiate if you get married in town.”
Carla moves to the front of the room, and the production assistants hold up “silent” cards. We stop talking, but I’m frustrated because I want to keep planning.
But a few minutes later, the producer is counting down the clock to camera time, and Phoebe and Andie are standing ready behind their counter.
He steps away, and the large digital clock at the back of the kitchen is counting down.
Andie and Phoebe pull ingredients and get to measuring and mixing.
I don’t know what they have planned, but I know it will be spectacular.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I fish it out.
Everyone has their phone silenced as a requirement of being allowed in the audience.
I see I’ve been added to a group chat. I recognize some of the numbers as Phoebe, Daphne, and Teagan, but one has me stymied.
There’s a tap on my shoulder, and it’s Jack, Phoebe’s boss at the bakery.
He points at my phone and then to himself. I guess that number’s his.
He types and hits send.
Jack: If we can’t talk, we text. Wedding planning.
Teagan: Good idea.
Jack: Venue?
Me: :shrugging man emoji:
Jack: Date?
Me: :shrugging man emoji:
Shelby: Next Saturday. Parents arriving Thurs.
I turn to her in surprise, and she holds up her phone so I can see the text conversation she’s having with my mom and Violet. There are a lot of exclamation marks happening.
Jack: K. Can get you the chapel next to the bakery. It’s not a church anymore. Decommissioned or whatever. Want it?
I glance up at Phoebe. She’s intent on whatever’s in the mixing bowl of the stand mixer.
I wonder how she’ll feel about the chapel.
Neither of us is particularly religious, but I don’t know if she’d feel weird being in a chapel and have it not be religious.
I love the building. It was moved to the Village from somewhere in South Jersey so it could be preserved instead of torn down to make way for development. I haven’t been inside though.
Shelby: Yes! Phoebe loves it. Okay with you, Ollie?
I nod and text back, “yeah.”
Daphne: Okay, we have date, place, officiant, license set up. Logan will do the pictures. Good start.
Shelby holds out her hands for me and Daphne to slap and then reaches back for Jack and Teagan.
Glancing at the countdown clock, I’m amazed we’ve planned most of our wedding in under half an hour.
I should pitch those four to Carla for a wedding planning show.
With our plans temporarily in place until I can talk to Phoebe, I settle in to watch this afternoon’s competition unfold.
She’s looking stressed, and I don’t know if it’s because of the last round of the competition or because I’ve royally screwed up.
I’m ignoring the kernel of dread in my stomach that’s going to pop into a problem.
Maybe Phoebe wanted to be involved in all of this? Damn.