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“Hey!” John shouts. “I’m still right here! And I’m not an idiot. I know an engagement ring when I see one. Did you two get engaged or what?”
With the kind of wide smile I never get tired of seeing, Chelsea holds out her left hand, showing off the ring we picked out together. As much as Chelsea loves surprises, I also knew she would want to be part of choosing her ring. I also made sure she knew I asked her mom for her blessing first.
The proposal, which was over a rooftop dessert date, was the surprise. Though I was terrified I’d end up dropping the ring into the fire pit, I managed to balance it on the end of a s’mores skewer.
Perfect ring, perfect proposal, perfect person.
John’s face breaks into a grin, and he jumps up from his chair, parading around his room, fist-pumping. “It’s about time!”
“We were actually much faster than the average in terms of an engagement,” Chelsea says. “But when you know, you know.”
I honestly think she would have said yes had I asked her on our first date.
I thought about it.
Yeah, I know it sounds ridiculous. But Chelsea and I have so much history, so many years of falling for each other, admiring each other, secretly pining for each other. It took a lot of restraint to hold myself backthislong. I think we both waited long enough already.
“If you’re done celebrating, you can open your package,” Chelsea says.
I cannot wait for this part. It was worth the exorbitant shipping fees to get the thing to Spain for this moment right here.
“Wait!” I say, and John heaves a sigh, halfway into opening the package. “One question before you open it.”
I pause dramatically, partially because I know it will make John irritated. This has become my new goal, essentially payback for his attempt at manipulating my relationship with Chelsea rather than just talking to me like a normal person.
“I’m dying over here,” John says.
“Will you be my best man?”
John blinks and blinks, his mouth slack. This shouldn’t be a surprise, but I think this hit him—as Chelsea would say—right in the feels.
“Dude. I’d be honored.”
I’m not even mad about the dude.
Chelsea bounces in my lap. “Enough bromance. Open your package!”
John tears into it, and I can feel Chelsea holding back her laughter. Neither of us will be able to hold it back for long.
The moment John’s brow furrows, Chelsea starts to shake. But it’s not until my best friend and best man pulls out the crocheted unisuit that I have to fake a coughing fit to hide my laughter.
“What … is this monstrosity?” John asks, holding it up.
“We’re going a little non-traditional with the wedding,” Chelsea says. “That, my brother, is what you’ll be wearing.”
John sputters, looking from the crocheted, one-piece outfit to us, then back to the suit. Before he can ask another question, and before Chelsea and I totally lose it, there’s a little whimper. Chelsea hops up almost immediately, and on the screen, John frowns.
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” Chelsea calls, but John is no dummy and knows it’s definitely not nothing.
I glance over, smiling at the sight of Chelsea snuggling the puppy up to her face. He’s a corgi, and other than Chelsea, the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Except for Chelsea with the puppy—THAT’S the best thing ever.
“Seriously,” John says. “What else are you hiding?”
Chelsea and I exchange a glance, and I nod. She sits back down and John gasps.
“Is that a puppy?”
