Own the Eights Gets Married - Krista Sandor Page 0,54

and he’d come back with the pitfalls of binging on raw cookie dough.

One thing was for sure. Under extreme stress, they’d reverted to the worst version of themselves.

The fragile beauty queen turned into an inflexible eight, and the former weakling turned into a hyper-masculine, single-minded ten.

“Seriously, Georgie! You’ve got to snap out of it. Has anyone else figured out Jordan left the bungalow?”

Or that she possibly kicked him out?

It was a legit question. Thankfully, only the perceptive Becca seemed to pick up on the disconnect between the bookshop owner and the fitness trainer next door. Not even Cornelia Lieblingsschatz or any of her wedding minions seemed to know.

“It’s coming down to the wire, Georgie. Is the wedding still on?”

Georgie blinked and met her friend’s gaze. “I think so.”

Becca’s jaw nearly hit the floor. “You think so? Your mother has invited all of Denver to this shindig, and that scary wedding lady is sending out emails left and right on wedding party etiquette and panty lines. Panty lines, Georgie! She made me send her a picture of my ass in the bridesmaid dress with the underwear I planned on wearing that day so her people could inspect it for visibility issues. First of all, who has people for that? And second, that’s nuts! I get that she’s a wedding genius, but sheesh, panty lines procedures?”

Georgie swallowed past the lump in her throat. She hadn’t called off the wedding, and, as far as she knew, Jordan hadn’t either.

But was it on?

She steadied herself and attempted to make sense of the situation. “Think of it this way, Bec. From what I’ve heard, the champagne engagement breakfast was a real hit, and Jordan and I were only there for ten minutes. I’m sure, between my mother and the wedding frau, the actual wedding will go off without a hitch.”

Becca left the counter and joined her next to the Jane Austen section.

“Have you hit your head?” Becca asked.

“No.”

“Did somebody give you a pot brownie, or did you eat some magic gummy bears?” Becca pressed.

Georgie shook her head. “Nope, I’ve been sticking to my cookie dough, but even that doesn’t taste so good anymore.”

“There’s no chance you’ve been drugged, or hypnotized, or had your body highjacked by aliens?”

“No, Becca! Have you been highjacked by aliens?” she asked, about done with her friend’s antics.

Becca’s expression grew serious. “I’m asking this because you said a wedding that didn’t include an actual wedding could go off without a hitch. I know you’ve been in your head a bunch the past two weeks. But say that slowly and let me know if you still think people wouldn’t notice a wedding without a bride and a groom?”

Georgie leaned against the bookshelf. “We’re ready for a wedding.”

They were.

They’d made all the big decisions during their whirlwind of a trip to the Denver wedding underground.

At this point, there was no way of squeezing the proverbial wedding toothpaste back into the pre-wedding tube.

Perhaps, out of the need for structure or routine or not wanting to let go, she hadn’t hit the brakes.

She’d followed all the frau’s instructions and had gone to her dress fitting and met with the hair and makeup people. She’d smiled and nodded politely at their suggestions. And it wasn’t like it was odd that Jordan wasn’t there. Many brides want to keep their dress and wedding day beauty preparations a surprise. She and Jordan had opted out of a bachelor or bachelorette party—it wasn’t their thing. And, in lieu of a rehearsal dinner, they’d already decided to donate to a food bank.

As far as her mother, Hector, and Bobby—aka the Hydra of Denver—the frau had assigned them a slew of what she called transcendent wedding duties. What did these duties entail? She had no idea. But it had kept the hydra occupied and out of her hair.

In fact, she’d barely heard a peep out of them.

She glanced down at her left hand—the hand without an engagement ring. The wedding frau hadn’t mentioned if it was back from the jeweler, and she hadn’t brought it up.

A sinking feeling set in. Would she ever wear that ring again?

Had her words in the pouring rain sealed their fate?

“You’re not answering the question, Georgie. Are you going to be walking down the aisle? Are you going to marry Jordan?” Becca asked gently.

What was she supposed to say?

She hadn’t said anything to anyone about the catastrophic wilderness boot camp. Jordan was most likely bunking at his dad’s place, and, for all she knew, he told

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