Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 157140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
“Okay!” Destiny yells, clapping her hands as she closes in. “That’s enough old people kissing. You’re going to gross out my followers.”
I glance over. She holds up the phone and taps the screen.
Eliza pulls away with her mouth hanging open. “Oh, God. You livestreamed it?”
“No, I just took a video and sent it to your parents. But I had to say something to make it stop sometime this century because—no offense, guys, but—” Dess shakes her arms. “Gross.”
“My parents know?” Eliza asks, blinking up at me.
I nod. “I had to talk to your dad before I proposed. I know a lot of girls don’t feel like someone should talk to their old man before them anymore, but in this case, I almost got you killed. All I could think about was some loser putting Dess in the same predicament and then deciding he’d marry her before he had the nerve to tell me about it. I’d tear him limb from limb. I figured our married life would be hell if I didn’t smooth that over first.”
“What did he say?”
“He said it was your decision—and that if I ever hurt you again, he’d give me a pair of concrete boots to the bottom of the Pacific.” I grin.
“What? He’s usually so mild.”
“I hurt his little girl,” I point out. “Never again.”
Destiny bounces between us and grabs Eliza’s free hand. “So, when and where are we doing this wedding?”
I side-eye her hard. “She just got engaged a minute ago. Give her a chance to think, Dess.”
“Oh. Well...” Eliza pauses, her tongue between her teeth in thought. “I’ve actually had my wedding planned since the seventh grade.”
“You have?”
“Yeah. It might’ve been eighth grade, but still...”
“Then how come you don’t know when and where your wedding is?” Destiny asks.
“Oh—I met this jerk before your dad and thought for a while I wanted nothing to do with men or weddings. All of those ideas feel tainted now.”
“I’d better not be your rebound,” I joke, wrapping my arms around her.
“You’re just my soulmate,” she whispers, looking intently at Destiny. “I know one thing I’d still like to keep for sure.”
“What?” Destiny asks breathlessly.
“I want a mocha fountain.”
“Mocha fountain?” I repeat, trying to wrap my head around it.
“Like a chocolate fountain, but better because it’s chocolate coffee,” she explains.
“People are going to think our wedding is one big PR stunt,” I say, laughing.
“Then don’t invite anyone. I’m fine with eloping.”
“I’m not!” Destiny squeals. “I need to see you say 'I do,' Dad.”
A few days later, our engagement announcements happen by accident.
We walk into a local coffee shop and order drinks. Eliza mentions to the barista that we’re getting hitched. Instead of writing our names on the cups, the barista writes Mr. Lancaster and Future Mrs. Lancaster.
A giddy Eliza snaps a picture with her phone and starts tapping furiously at the screen.
“Don’t tell me you’re posting that?” I say.
“Yep. It’s our announcement.” Then her eyes go wide and her mouth falls. “Oh! Hold up...”
“No,” I whisper, already sensing what she’s thinking. “Eliza, don’t you dare.”
“C’mon, Cole. You dared me once and now it’s my turn. We totally should—”
“No,” I bite off.
“Bad news. It’s opposite day and no means yes,” she says, walking her fingers up my arm. “We’re getting married at the Wired Cup on Seventh Street.”
Fuck my life.
Worst of all, she’s serious.
I breathe in before I say, “Sweetheart, hold up. You have unlimited resources at your disposal and you want to tie the knot at a retail coffee shop?”
“We’ll need some of those resources to shut it down for the day...”
My groan vibrates through my bones. “We can come up with a better venue. I promise.”
“Yeah, right. You can’t improve on perfect.”
“It’s a store,” I growl.
“It’s where we first met. That’s crazy romantic.”
“We’re not getting married in my damn shop,” I grumble, staring up at the sky.
When I look back, she’s still smiling.
It’s all I need to see to not instantly veto the idea.
If I’d give this woman the entire world on a silver platter, can’t I give her one memorable day in a barista line?
Three Months Later
I stand in the men’s room, fussing with my tie when there’s a knock at the door.
“Dad? Are you decent?” Destiny calls.
“Yeah.”
She opens the door and walks in, all dolled up in her finest. “See? I knew it. You need help with your tie. Come here.”
Usually, I’d try to deny it with my bruised pride, but today is too important to bicker with my daughter and my own dumb hands for never getting it right.
In ten seconds, Destiny has it adjusted perfectly, the warmest smile hanging on her face. “Mocha-brown looks good on you. It doesn’t match your eyes, but it fits the theme.”
“Thanks,” I huff out, rolling my eyes.
“What? Dad, you’re getting married. Lighten up. You can’t possibly find anything to grump about today.” Her awkward laugh spills out.