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Swiping at the wetness on my cheeks, I beam up at him. “How did I get so lucky?”

“I’m the lucky one,” he says, taking the ring from the box. “Mind if I slip this on? I’ve been dying to see it on your finger.”

I hold out my hand, nodding and smiling and tearing up all over again. It glides on easily and instantly flops upside down. Barrett curses, and I laugh.

“It’s too big,” he says, frowning. “How could I have thought your finger was that large?”

“It’s perfect,” I say, spinning it face up to look at the gorgeous stone. “I’ll get it sized first thing next week.”

“I should have taken one of your other rings in with me,” he says, his forehead still bunched.

I reach up, smoothing the ridges from his brow. “No, you shouldn’t have. This is great. Better too big than too little. And it gives me an excuse to look at wedding rings while I’m in the store. We’ll be getting married soon, right? I don’t want to plan a big wedding. I just want to be Mrs. McGuire as soon as possible.”

Gathering me into his arms, he hugs me close. “That sounds like my kind of wedding.”

“So, we’ll elope over Christmas break?” I ask, figuring I’m pushing it, but so past ready to be his wife, I can’t help myself.

“Or next weekend,” he says. “I only have one patient due to deliver and I can get Dr. Graham to be on call.”

Jaw dropping, I nod, bounce a little on my toes, and let out a soft squeal.

He laughs. “That was a very Keanu sound.”

“He’s a happy dog who makes happy sounds and so do I,” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Yes, let’s do it! Let’s elope to Niagara Falls and dress in old-fashioned clothes and pose for wedding pictures at one of those going-over-the-falls-in-a-barrel photo places.”

Barrett grins and murmurs, “Ridiculous,” but the word doesn’t bother me anymore. Because now I know he has a secret love for “ridiculous” things nearly as big as his love for me.

And so, just one week later, I find myself in the honeymoon suite of a cheesy Niagara Falls hotel, newly married and in possession of more old-timey, sepia-tinted photos than any reasonable woman should possess.

“We’re adorable if I do say so myself.” I lift a picture of Barrett scowling stiffly in a barrel with me on his back. “This one’s my favorite.”

“You’re my favorite,” he says, tackling me back onto our giant, pink, heart-shaped wedding bed, where he proves it.

Starling

The wedding photos start popping up in my messages around four o’clock.

“It’s time!” I shout.

“Got it!” Nora, Barrett’s neighbor, who’s helping me watch Keanu and Kyle at Barrett’s house in the name of overcoming her fear of animals, dashes into the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of tequila, salt, and lime slices we prepared earlier. As she settles back beside me at the table on the back porch, she asks, “So what are the rules? You take a shot if Barrett’s scowling and I take a shot if Wren’s laughing?”

“No, the opposite,” I say, swiping my tongue across the skin between my pointer finger and thumb and shaking a bit of salt onto the damp spot. “If we did it that way, we’d be wasted in five minutes.”

Nora laughs. “Good point. Though Barrett does smile a lot more now that Wren’s around. They’re so good together. Is it okay I’m a little sad that we didn’t get to watch them say their vows? I bet they would have been so romantic.”

“They’ll be romantic at the reception they’re throwing next weekend,” I say. “And I sort of love that they’re doing this their way. No worries about pleasing the families or putting on a big event or being the center of attention. They just want to make their promises to each other in private.”

“With a few sweet Canadians around to bear witness,” Nora says with a nod. “You’re right. That is nice.” She lifts her tequila shot glass. “To Wren and Barrett. Long may they live, laugh, and love.”

I clink my glass to hers. “To Barrett and Wren, my sweet sister who deserves the most beautiful happily ever after, with the grump of her dreams.”

Nora laughs and nods toward my phone. “Wren’s frowning in that shot! Do I drink?”

I glance down at the screen and grin. “That’s the fakest scowl I’ve ever seen.” Wren is next to Barrett in a fake wooden barrel, wagging a chastising finger at him as they prepare to “go over the falls” in the painted background behind them. “But we should count it. We might not get another frown from her today. She said they’re having an amazing time.”

Nora winces as she swallows her shot. “Woof. That’s stronger than I remember. Oh, and there’s a smile from Barrett! Your turn.”

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