Page 48 of Bound To Be Mine

Her whole face lit up. “I was in college, totally broke, working three part-time jobs just to make rent. My roommate’s best friend was getting married, and they had no money. Like, negative money. They were going to do city hall and maybe grab pizza after.”

I smiled despite myself. “Let me guess. You had other ideas.”

“I told them I could throw them a real wedding for five hundred bucks. They thought I was insane.” She laughed and shook her head. “But I was determined. I hit up every thrift store in a fifty-mile radius. Found a gorgeous vintage dress for seventy-five dollars. Made the centerpieces out of mason jars and wildflowers we picked from a field. Convinced a friend who played guitar to do the music for free beer. Got another friend who was into photography to shoot it for practice.”

“And?”

“It was beautiful.” Her eyes went distant, remembering. “It was small. Maybe forty people in someone’s backyard. But it was full of love. You could feel it in every detail. The bride cried when she saw what we’d done. Said it was everything she’d dreamed of and more.”

“That’s when you knew?”

“That’s when I knew.” She took a sip of her water. “Someone at the wedding took photos and posted them online. They went viral. People couldn’t believe we’d pulled it off for under five hundred bucks. My phone started ringing. People wanted to book me. And I just ran with it. I realized there was something I could do and I loved doing it. Made sense.”

I watched her as she talked, the way her hands moved when she got excited. This was what she’d been trying to tell me when I’d insulted her in that conference room. This wasn’t just a job to her. It was a calling.

“You love your job.”

“I do. I love seeing people in love. I know that sounds cheesy, but it’s true. Weddings are stressful. For the couple, for the families, and for everyone involved. Brides are so focused on making the day perfect for themselves and their families they completely lose their minds. But if I do my job right, that stress melts away, and what you’re left with is pure joy. Families and friends coming together to celebrate something good. Something hopeful.” She paused. “The world can be pretty dark sometimes. Weddings remind people that there’s still beauty and love and reasons to celebrate.”

“That sounds nice,” I said. I realized after the word was out, it was very inadequate.

“What about your job? Do you love it?”

I considered the question. “I’m good at it. And I believe in protecting my family’s interests. But love?” I shook my head. “Most of my work is conflict. Business deals where everyone’s trying to get the biggest piece of the pie. Lawsuits where someone feels they’ve been wronged. Contracts designed to protect against the worst-case scenario. It’s necessary, but it’s not exactly joyful. I’m not defending an innocent man or winning a lawsuit for someone who’s been completely screwed over.”

“Maybe that’s why you’re so serious all the time,” she said gently. “Your job is all about conflict and protection. You’re always in defense mode. Always anticipating the next problem.”

“You think my job is making me callous?”

“I think your job is making you forget that not everything is a battle. That sometimes people can just be kind to each other. Trust each other. Celebrate together without worrying about who’s going to screw who over.”

I smiled. “And that’s because you’ve never been screwed over. You have contracts you make your clients sign, right?”

“Yes.”

“One day, one of those contracts will be challenged and you’re going to wish you had a guy like me backing your ass up.”

She laughed. “Nice visual. I do have an attorney who created the contract. I trust him.”

“I’m sure you do, but I’m better.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you are, but fortunately, I’m not dealing with billion-dollar weddings.”

“Yet,” I said. “Stick with us and you just might.”

We finished our dinner, discussing mundane things that I supposed was part of the getting-to-know-you process. We walked out and I automatically felt my jacket pocket like I always did.

“You have my pen,” I said. “Can I have it back now?”

She flashed a smile. “I don’t know. Do you deserve it back?”

Is she flirting? No, she’s just fucking with me. “Are you going to sign the contract?”

“Which one?”

“I only brought the marriage one.”

“No.”