ring to Jordan. “Here, Mr. Marks, let’s have you do the honors. I sized the ring myself, so it should fit perfectly.”
Jordan carefully took the ring from where it rested on Han’s palm, then turned to her.
“Let’s see if the second time is a charm,” he said with a slight shake to his voice.
She held out her hand and watched as Jordan slid the engagement ring onto her finger.
And time stopped.
The breath caught in her throat, and everything stilled.
Life provides so many memorable moments. Snapshots in our minds as crystal clear today as they were when they occurred. The day she received her very own library card. The minute she set foot in the animal shelter and saw Mr. Tuesday. Her first encounter with Jordan, shirtless and glistening in all his hot-bod glory and brimming with a life-supply of asshattery.
“Hans, look! One of the prongs is bent,” the frau said, but Georgie couldn’t look away from her fiancé.
“It must have happened in my pocket. It’s a quick repair. I can fix it now,” Hans replied, reaching for her hand.
“No, it’s just as it should be,” she answered.
“But it needs to be perfect,” the man countered, leaning in to examine his work.
Georgie shook her head. “No, it’s better than that. It’s us. It’s who we’re meant to be—all flaws and jagged edges. All asshats and pageant princesses. It’s everything.”
Jordan held her gaze. “We aren’t big on perfect, but we know how to be us.”
“I see,” Hans said, sitting back in his chair.
“Now, all you have to do is stay inside the ring,” the wedding frau remarked.
“What does that mean?” Georgie asked.
Hans shared a knowing look with his wife.
“It’s the advice the rabbi gave us fifty years ago before we married,” the man replied.
Cornelia tapped the titanium wedding rings reverently. “He told us to look at our marriage as if we were inhabiting the inside of the wedding band.”
“Often, you’re together in the center, loving and cherishing each other,” Hans continued.
“But, if your husband enrages you by eating the rest of the käsekuchen while you’re sleeping,” the frau said, eyeing Hans.
“German cheesecake,” Hans translated with a chuckle.
The frau continued. “Then, you are on opposite sides of the ring. But you never leave it. You never break the bond. Yes, of course, I am not naïve enough to believe every marriage can last. But I’ll tell you this. Hans and I make it our priority to ensure the marriages we bless and facilitate are the kind that will.” She turned to Hans. “You know, I’m still mad about that cake.”
Hans took the frau’s hand and kissed it. “It was a damn good cake.”
Georgie observed the couple. “That’s beautiful.”
The frau’s expression grew thoughtful. “It was. Not too sweet and just the right firmness.”
Georgie shared a look with Jordan, expecting to find him amused. Instead, he looked guilt-ridden.
“What is it?” she asked him.
“We broke your rule, Mrs. Lieblingsschatz. The one about not…” he said, trailing off as his cheeks grew pink.
“Fornicating,” the frau supplied.
Oh no!
“Are you still telling couples that?” Hans asked.
“It worked for us, didn’t it?” the wedding frau answered.
Jordan cocked his head to the side. “That wasn’t a real rule?”
“Some rules are meant to be broken,” the frau replied.
“Good, because we broke this one. Like really, really broke it,” he answered.
“It also sounded like you made your own rules to bypass my mandate,” the frau added.
Georgie shook her head. “Then, why do you even use it?”
“A little reverse psychology. The forbidden is often the most desired,” the woman answered.
“That’s for sure,” Jordan replied, blowing out a relieved breath.
Mrs. Lieblingsschatz folded her hands in her lap. “The truth is, I was always going to plan your wedding, Georgiana.”
Georgie’s jaw dropped. “You were?”
“Yes, it’s in the contract Hans and I signed many years ago when we decided to expand our wedding planning business.”
“I don’t understand. How would you know that you were always going to plan our wedding?” Jordan asked.
A smirk pulled at the corners of Cornelia’s lips. “Not your wedding, Mr. Marks. Georgiana’s wedding. Her stepfather wrote it into our contract.”
“What?” Georgie shot back. “I thought my mother contacted you.”
“She did, but she doesn’t know about this either. You were just a girl when your stepfather’s company invested in the Denver Wedding Frau.”
“Howard set this up?” Georgie asked, hardly able to believe it.
“Howard Vanderdinkle is discrete, but he wanted the best for you when you decided to get married. Hans and I are the best, so being a prudent investor, he stipulated that his