Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 169272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 846(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 846(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Henn whoops and raises his flute to me. “To new beginnings.”
“To new beginnings.” I clink his glass. “And to love—a once in a lifetime love that will never, ever end.”
“Cheers to that,” Henn murmurs.
We kiss and hug, and when we realize the photographer is furiously snapping away, we stop kissing and canoodling and pose for a few shots, with me quipping that this is our engagement photo shoot.
When the photographer says she’s got everything she needs, she lets us swipe through the images she’s captured on her digital camera, and we both “ooh” and “aah” at all of them.
“I can’t wait to show these to everyone,” I say, after we’ve reached the final photo.
“In the meantime, let’s make some FaceTime calls,” Henn suggests, and of course, I agree that’s a splendid idea.
Our first call is to my sister, who’s still on-set with Keane, and happy tears abound. Next up, we call both our mothers. And again, happy tears flow. Especially from Henn’s mom, Carol, who seems so overjoyed by our news, I’m momentarily worried about the happy woman’s health.
Next up, we call Reed, who’s in the middle of a work meeting in New York when our FaceTime notification comes in. When he sees our smiling faces, he steps outside whatever conference room and booms, “Well, if it isn’t my best friend looking happy in Paris . . . And look, she’s with Peter!”
We all laugh. Reed has been calling me his best friend since he and I beat the Cook brothers in Patron pong at Henny’s housewarming party months ago, and the joke never fails to land.
“Look, bestie!” I say, holding up my ringed hand to Henn’s phone.
Henn shouts, “She said yesssss!”
Reed whoops and congratulates us, and we excitedly tell him the story of Henn’s amazing proposal.
“Thanks for suggesting the violinist,” Henn says. “She was perfect.”
“Hey, I’m never going to propose to anyone,” Reed says, “I might as well give all my best proposal ideas to you. Have you called Josh and Kat yet?”
“They’re next on our list,” Henn replies.
“Tell ‘em Uncle Reed needs a new Gracie video. It’s been over a week.”
“We’ll let them know.”
After one last round of congratulations from Reed, we end the call and place one to Josh and Kat, who cheer and clap effusively at the sight of the bling on my finger. Kat demands we recount every detail of Henn’s proposal, so I launch into the story with occasional, tag-team help from Henn. In the middle of our story, however, our call abruptly disconnects, mid-sentence.
“Shoot,” I murmur. “The call dropped.” I try to call them back, but the call is declined. Suddenly, there’s a tap on my shoulder . . . and when I turn my head, I’m met with Kat’s gorgeous face. In person. She’s here. In Paris. With Josh right behind her.
Shrieking, I throw my arms around my best friend’s neck and promptly burst into big, soggy tears. “I can’t believe you’re here,” I say over and over again. “Thank you, thank you.”
“Happy birthday, honey,” Kat whispers into my hair. “And happy, happy engagement.”
It takes a moment to gather myself enough to speak. When I finally do, I choke out, “I can’t believe you and Josh came all this way to celebrate with us.”
Kat exhales dramatically. “It was a tough sell. Henn really had to twist our arms to fly to a shithole like Paris on a private jet to join you two assholes for a celebratory dinner tonight. But that’s the kind of friends we are, I guess.”
I laugh, even as I’m wiping tears. “Seriously, though, it really is a big deal for you to travel now that you have Gracie. Who’s watching her?”
“My parents—at our hotel. They were elated to get a free trip to Europe in exchange for some occasional babysitting here and there. After Paris, we’re taking them to Italy. My mom has always dreamed of going there.”
Josh steps forward. He’s finished congratulating my fiancé, apparently, and he’s now demanding a hug from me. While I embrace Josh, Kat flits over to Henn, and by the time we’ve finished with all permutations of embraces and greetings, a waiter appears with two more champagne flutes and refills for Henn and me.
Bubbly in hand, our foursome makes several toasts—the first to our engagement. Another to my birthday. A third, to Kat and Josh for joining us on our special night. And, finally, to Kat for serving as our beloved, and oh-so brilliant matchmaker.
“I knew you two would be perfect for each other,” Kat says. “Matchmaking is in my blood.”
Josh chuckles. “They’re literally your only success story, babe.”
“That’s not true,” Kat insists with a sniff. “Before Henn and Hannah, I brilliantly pushed two of my former co-workers together, and they’re happily married now.”
“That’s true,” I confirm. “She Parent Trapped them.”
“I sure did. Brilliantly. But even if Henn and Hannah were my only success story, they’d be enough on their own to confirm my matchmaking genius. Talk about two people living the fairytale!”