Chapter 24
There is a young man with a mohawk sitting at my desk. In my chair.
Well, what used to be my desk.
What used to be my chair.
Not anymore.
I lead the big, goofy Rottweiler I’m taking care of this week through the maze of tables and desks. When we reach what used to be my desk, I smile at Mohawk Guy. My gaze roves over the familiar rack of file folders, the desktop computer, and the phone until I find the placard with his name.
Mark Douchene—Shipping Department Customer Care.
“How’s it going, Mark?” I ask.
“Great,” he replies with a polite smile. “Can I help you with something?”
Recognition rearranges his features, and he hops to his feet and extends his hand. “Gwen! Hey there, sorry about that. Of course. I’ve seen so many photos of you, just haven’t met you in person. Isn’t it funny how photos can look so different from the real deal?”
“They sure can.”
Ever since Brock proposed, my image has been splashed across so many platforms. I probably look like his sidekick in those photos. His support. His number-one cheerleader. I know what some of my coworkers insist on saying when they gossip at happy hour or trade stories in the break room.
‘He fired her once. She was so infatuated, she didn’t even stand up for herself.’
Well, they can talk all they want. They don’t know the truth or the whole story.
They don’t know Brock and I are a team and that we came together because of this office, but our relationship grew far beyond these walls.
It doesn’t matter to me what they choose to gossip about. All that matters to me is that I’m happy.
I chit chat with the new guy, Mark, for a minute, then tug my charge’s leash and head for the elevators. As I pass the break room, I peek in for old time’s sake. A box of donuts lies open on the table.
“Go ahead, have one,” a voice whispers.
A grin spreads across my lips. I swivel around,
Lizzy opens her arms for a hug, which I happily give. “What are you doing here, Mrs. Benson?” she asks.
“I can’t believe that’s going to be me.”
“Gwen Benson. It has a nice ring to it. Heading up to see your man?”
I tug the package of envelopes and cardstock from my purse. “Invitations just got in this morning, and I want to show him how they turned out.”
“Ooooh… goody! Let me see, let me see!”
She eagerly opens the packaging and pulls out the cream-colored envelopes and colorful cards. I peek over her shoulder. Even though I’ve seen this image so many times, it still makes my tummy flutter with joy.
It was the perfect day when we had our engagement photos taken up at the Mini Windsor Castle.
Yes, it was cloudy and rainy. Yes, my sweater snagged on a gate, and yes, my clogs got muddy. Brock laughed when we had to splash through the muck to get to the row of rose bushes. ‘You sure you want to go through with this?’
‘I’m sure. It’s the perfect day for photos,’ I told him with a laugh of my own.
“I love this photo,” Lizzy murmurs dreamily. “It’s unique.”
In the image, a silver curtain of rain dusts the foreground. Brock and I are hidden behind the curtain. Me, with my baggy sweater, my long skirt, my messy hair. Brock in bright red sneakers. His shirt is plastered to his chest, thanks to the rain. His jeans are wet, his smile wild and joyful.
He’s holding me.
Our noses nearly touch.
“You two are adorable,” Lizzy breathes, before carefully inserting the items back into the packaging. “I can’t wait for the big day. Did you decide on flowers yet?”
“Roses.” Even more joy swells in my heart. “Pink roses. They were my grandmother’s favorite. I talked to Kate yesterday, too. She says she’s been working with the dogs day in and day out to make sure they’re ready.”
Mr. Brown will be our ringbearer.
Zoey’s going to tote a basket of flowers if the training goes as hoped.
“Fingers crossed,” I tell Lizzy.
She claps and does her happy dance. Then she gestures to the elevators. “I’m sure he’s dying to see you. I won’t keep you.”
We hug again. Instead of the elevator, I guide my dog friend up the stairs. Today, I have energy to burn.
It’s not a new feeling, either. Ever since I started seeing Brock, I’ve felt so alive. Maybe that’s joy, energizing my being. It sure is nice.
The beefy Rottweiler nudges Brock’s office door.
By the time I peer in and catch sight of him behind his desk, he’s already smiling. “Come on in,” he says.
I step into his office.
When Brock wraps his arms around me and pulls me in close, I think about how much has changed.
I took a risk, falling for him. I took a risk, and it paid off. I’m happier now than I’ve ever been before.
“The invitations came in,” I tell him happily after he kisses me hello. “Want to see?”
Over on his computer, a voice floats out. “Brock, Bud, you gotta run?” I recognize Bailey Mark’s drawl.
Brock glances over at the screen. “Yeah, Gwen’s here. Can I call you later?”
“No prob, man, can’t wait to talk more, and tell Gwen I say hello.”
Brock steps to the laptop and closes it. “Bailey said yes—he’ll be my third groomsman.”
I perch on his desk and wriggle the package free from my purse. “If a world-famous professional fighter is going to be in our wedding party, we better be ready to handle some press.”
“We can handle anything, baby,” he says. He leans in and gives me a gentle kiss.
I know he’s right. We can handle anything—together.
We’re on an adventure, and it’s the adventure of a lifetime.