a time, thwarting global espionage?”
Georgie nodded. It was a reasonable assumption. After their experiences with both couples, she wouldn’t be surprised to learn they’d overturned a corrupt government or rescued kidnapped political prisoners back in the day.
The wedding frau released a full-belly laugh. “No, our time-share in Florida is next door to theirs.”
“Time-share?” Georgie echoed.
“Yes, near Cocoa Beach. Syd and Buck aren’t always roughing it in the Colorado foothills,” the woman replied.
“And Buck is quite an accomplished pickleball player,” Hans added.
The frau nodded. “We do need to practice before meeting them on the court again.”
Georgie stared at the wedding frau and Hans as the pieces of the puzzle came together.
“Hold on! Did you orchestrate the whole catastrophic wilderness boot camp experience?”
The wedding frau’s expression grew serious. “As a couple, you needed to lose.”
“Lose?” Georgie exclaimed.
“Why would you think that?” Jordan asked.
“We do our homework,” Hans replied.
Georgie glanced between the pair. “What makes you think we needed to lose?”
“Let’s see,” the frau began. “You two are the top bloggers on the CityBeat website. You both won the Battle of the Blogs. You run successful businesses, and before you set foot in the boot camp, you lived together in a cotton candy, lemon verbena-scented, picture-perfect world surrounded by books and bodybuilding equipment where you had ample sex and fawned all over each other. Would you disagree with that assessment?”
Jordan leaned forward. “Cotton candy isn’t in keeping with the healthy eating aspect of our blog. If you wanted to depict our lives pre-boot camp, I’d suggest vegan chocolate chip cookies accompanied by a protein shake, but I get what you’re saying.”
“You needed to have your relationship tested,” the frau said, lowering her voice.
“Why?” Georgie asked.
“To know your marriage would last,” Hans added gently.
Cornelia Lieblingsschatz relaxed into the chair. “You see, I can plan a wedding at the drop of a hat. I have the finest caterers and the most sought-after dressmakers and floral designers at my beck and call. But here’s the thing people forget. A wedding lasts only a handful of hours, but a marriage is meant to last a lifetime.”
“What would make you think Georgie and I wouldn’t have a marriage that would last?” Jordan pressed.
“Because you weren’t in possession of one vital piece of information,” Hans replied.
Georgie frowned. She didn’t like this one bit. Who were these people to decide what they needed as a couple?
“And what would that be?” she challenged.
“You needed to know that even at your worst, your love and commitment to each other would carry you through the hard times,” the frau answered.
Georgie’s trifecta nodded.
Holy wedding bells!
The woman was right.
“You, Georgiana, will always be a little bit of a beauty queen, and Jordan will always be a little bit of an overachieving asshat. That’s the word, right? Asshat?” the frau asked, turning to Jordan.
He shrugged. “Asshat or the Emperor of Asshattery. It’s up to Georgie to make that call.”
Hans pinned them with his gaze. “What you need to understand is when you agree to marry someone, you commit to marrying the whole person. That includes all the quirks and the peculiarities. There will be good times, and we pray they outweigh the bad. But life isn’t always fair, and you need the knowledge of knowing your love will get you through whatever obstacles come your way.”
Georgie sat there, completely stunned when Jordan reached for her hand and twined their fingers together.
“But we almost didn’t make it,” he said, the words coming out cracked and broken.
“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, Mr. Marks,” Hans corrected.
The hint of a smile bloomed on the frau’s lips. “In the days after you left the boot camp, neither one of you said a word about calling off the wedding. You’re both stubborn as mules, but your hearts know what matters most.”
Georgie drummed her fingers on her thigh. “But after hearing everything we said to each other during the bridal boot camp, how could you think that? Even I didn’t know until today what was going to happen,” she added.
Without a word, Hans pulled two small felt pouches from his pocket. He poured the contents of the first bag into his hand. There, sparkling under the lights and as beautiful as the day Jordan slipped it onto her finger, was her antique diamond engagement ring.
“I think you always knew you’d be wearing these,” the man said, slipping a pair of matching titanium wedding bands from the other pouch.
“Our rings,” she whispered, staring at the bands glinting in the light.
Hans passed her engagement