EPILOGUE

brOOKLYN

" I can't find the rings."

For someone who spends so much of his time on the ice, never have I turned into precisely that until this very moment.

Glad to see I'm not the only one, though. All movement in the room stops, every single man transforms into an ice sculpture like the kind my step-mother commissioned for the reception later tonight—two swans or something.

I stop breathing in the middle of putting in my favorite cufflinks, a miniature of the Stanley Cup my team and I won last year. Through the mirror, my eyes find the face of my brother and at least he does look like he regrets uttering those words very much.

However, I still sound angry enough when I ask, "You what ?"

From the corner of my eye, I catch Dane cringe. "Oh, boy."

"I didn't lose them." My fifteen-year-old brother stuffs his hands in the pockets of his dress pants, brow furrowing with a mighty fierce look that cowers his hockey opponents but not his big brother. "I just left them on a table when I went to the restroom, and they were gone once I returned."

"Usually," Aran mutters in a sinister voice, "I make threats on the older Tatum, but now I may consider changing the subject. If you ruin my sister's wedding?—"

"And mine," I add sardonically. "But anyway, no need to threaten anyone because this won't ruin the wedding. We'll fix it."

"Right." Max abandons his glass of brandy—the same fancy little beverage we've all been hydrating ourselves with while getting ready for my wedding—and gets up from his leather chair. "All we need to do is look for them."

Jamie raises his hand like we're in a classroom. "But wait, what if someone stole them?"

I narrow my eyes. "We're the only guests in this hotel. If someone dared to steal my wedding rings, I will sic the Aran Rodriguez on their sorry ass."

To illustrate, said goalie cracks his knuckles.

"Maybe let's try to not have any murder in my sister-in-law's wedding, okay?" Max chuckles.

"Right." I look up at the ceiling as if I could find my patience hanging from it. With a deep breath, I turn back to my brother. "Let's start at the crime scene."

"But I already looked at every nook and cranny," he whines.

"You're just a defenseman like your brother. Don't act like you have the best eyes in this room," Aran retorts dryly. "Let's go."

"Fine." Lee didn't grow up under the shadow of Aran's threats to his life, so he has the nerve to roll said eyes at the massive goalie who could still snap me in half.

For the first time Aran narrows his eyes at someone other than me. When his attention falls on me, it's only to motion with his head that we should get going.

It took him a while—almost the entire time Liv and I have been dating—for him to get used to the idea that I'll always been in his life. But I think this is the first time Aran and I are on the exact same page. We both don't want this wedding to be anything but perfection, which is what my fiancée deserves. He's the first one to vacate the gentleman's dressing room, since he's closest to the door.

I'm the only one who isn't fully decked with tie and jacket because the photographer is supposed to drop by any second, but I don't care about that. Not when we have a major emergency. I leave the room sans tie, vest, or jacket, with one cufflink secured in the sleeve of my shirt and the other one in my pocket.

Our heavy steps echo around the hallway as we follow Lee to the hallway. A little sideboard loaded with a gigantic flower arrangement sits in between the doors to the women's and men's restrooms.

"Dude," Jamie says with laughter in his voice. "Why did you even come here when we have a private bathroom in our suite?"

"Whoever was there before me left it stinking up so bad I almost barfed." Lee stretches his mouth in the universal gesture of yikes . "It was honestly unlike any stank I've ever come across in my life. Worse than a public trash can."

"Oh that was me, sorry." Dane grins. "That happens sometimes after breakfast burritos."

"Wow, I feel so bad for Mina." They're still going strong and probably the next couple in line to tie the knot, but maybe I should advise Mina to save her lungs. And stomach. Horrified, I add, "Do whatever it takes not to fart during the wedding or else."

"It's all good. I think I got it out of my system. "

"You think?" I scrunch up my face.

"Let's divide and conquer," Max chimes in with the voice of reason, probably because he's the eldest of this weird bunch. "Aran and I can check the men's restroom in detail. The rest of you should comb through this entire hallway."

"Aye captain." Dane salutes because, funny enough, Dane's now a teammate of Max's, and the latter is the captain.

"I'll take the flowers and drawers." Jamie does a finger gun at the arrangement.

My brother protests. "I didn't leave the box in any of the drawers."

"But you never know." Dane shrugs. "Didn't I see you sneak a drink from your father earlier?"

Lee's face heats up. "Trust me, if I was drunk I'd really have puked all over the bathroom after your biological bomb."

I expel all the air in my lungs and push my cuffed sleeve to check the watch. "Gentlemen, we have just shy of an hour to find my wedding rings. Let's focus."

With that, there's no more fooling around. Max and Aran slide into the men's restroom to start the search. Dane and Jamie inspect every nook and cranny of the table, and even go as far as dismantling the flower arrangement. Lee paces up and down the hallway, scanning the carpet and any piece of furniture in the way.

Meanwhile, I force myself to do something that doesn't come natural to me—and that is to think.

Would not having rings available be grounds for stopping the wedding? Because no way I'm letting that happen. I'm walking out of church today with Olivia Rodriguez as my wife, and not even a lightning storm will prevent that. But she'd also be upset to find out we're starting our marriage with a blunder already, and all I want is for her to be happy.

The thing is that even if my brother acted like a stooge and lost them, all because of Dane's nasty farts, he would never lose them on purpose. The box is kinda big, hard to put in one's pocket, with a velvet casing that can't get wet. I get why he wouldn't want to bring it in the restroom with him.

All this leads me to think that someone took it.

And I don't mean that they took it with ill intentions. The only guests at the hotel are family and friends—Dad and I made sure of that. And the hotel is a small boutique one with a limited amount of staff, no pedestrian traffic, tucked in a wooded piece of land removed from the main town. If this was a mystery, it would be the simplest one.

I'm sure someone saw the box, recognized it, and took it to keep it safe. But if so, who did it?

I pluck my phone from my pocket and start blasting texts to a bunch of people.

This is when the photographer arrives, no doubt coming from the bride's suite on the floor above. He takes one look at Dane crawling on the floor to check under the table, at Jamie rearranging the flowers, my brother with handfuls of seating chair pillows, and at Max and Aran stepping out of the men's restroom with faces red from some kind of effort.

"Um, is this a bad time?" the poor guy asks.

"Have you seen a white velvet box yay high?" I make the rough size of it with my hands.

"I'm afraid not."

While I sigh, Aran turns to my brother. "Are you sure you went into the men's restroom?"

Lee splutters. "Of course I did! What do you think I?—"

"Just checking," Aran grouches.

"I'm pretty sure someone took it," I say, following it up with my deductions. I don't appreciate how every single one of them looks impressed by the fact that I do, indeed, have some neurons inside my extremely good looking blond head. Annoyed, I finish with, "And anyway, I think we should split and talk with all the guests until we find whoever has them. There's only one problem."

"Time?" Max raises his eyebrows.

Somberly, I shake my head. "No. My future wife can't ever find out."

There's unanimous agreement from the men and the teen, and together with the photographer at my heels, we split in all directions.

OLIVIA

"The men are acting weird," Mina declares as she walks into the bride's suite.

"When don't they?" I take a careful sip of the most delicate champagne flute I've ever seen. I'm afraid if I hold it too tight, it may crack and pour champagne down my wedding dress.

"Fair, but this is weirder than usual."

"What are they up to?" my sister asks from the windowsill. She's in the same soft periwinkle dress as the rest of my bridesmaids, which includes Dee, Mina, and Maddie. My mom is the only one in a deeper blue, but still in the color scheme reminiscent of the college all her kids attended.

"They seem to be like, interviewing guests." Mina folds her arms, lips twisted in a grumpy way. "Except they wouldn't tell me what the deal is."

Dee pauses from pouring herself another mimosa. "Suspicious."

"Very."

"What are we gonna do about it?" Maddie asks.

My shoulders slump. "Well, I can't go out there in this to find out." I motion at my incredible wedding dress, a mermaid cut cream number with delicate beading that makes it shimmer when I move, giving me the look of a real mermaid just emerged from the ocean. It's gorgeous. I feel absolutely beautiful in it. I can't wait to see Brooke's reaction to it. It's not that I'm superstitious, but I don't want to ruin that moment for myself.

"Leave it to your big sister." Luz lifts her long skirt to not step on it as she gets up. "Because it turns out that I have a big weapon."

I cock an eyebrow. "What's that?"

"A husband who does whatever I want."

"Oh." Maddie snaps her fingers. "I too have one of those. I'm coming with."

"Yo también," Mom says, and joins the other two women as they walk out.

"Show offs." Dee sighs.

Mina joins her at the bar. "Right?"

"Pff." I shake my head. "As if you two also didn't have guys who are wild over you in the wedding party."

Dee grins, her cheeks deepening in color. "Well, Jamie and Dane aren't our husbands yet."

"Yet." Mina narrows her eyes. "That's the key word."

We ended up dating the same group of hockey bros we went to college with, but wilder things have happened in my life. Such as me legitimately getting a job as a nutritionist for Brooke's team, and also releasing my first book of allergy friendly recipes.

"I still can't believe that we'll never be able to breathe non-stinky air," I joke about the unfortunate side effect of living with men who sweat for a living.

"Don't get me started on that. The smells that come out of the digestive tract of my boyfriend are criminal." Mina pretends to gag.

"I honestly stink worse than mine, but I'm starting to think that his nose doesn't work." Dee elegantly drapes herself on a settee, champagne flute in her hand.

Mina closes her eyes. "I wish my nose didn't work. "

While I'm chuckling, the door opens again and the three women in my family walk back in. Maddie's the one who breaks the news.

"Turns out that your future brother-in-law lost the rings."

You could hear a pin drop.

My eye twitches. Slowly, I set my champagne on a nearby table by the floor length window. I remind my reflection that a blood stain would look much worse on my dress than a splotch of champagne, and that's a good enough reason to not commit murder.

"Someone bring me Brooklyn."

They all look at each other.

"Isn't that bad luck?" Mom asks.

"Rather, I'm suddenly concerned about Brooklyn's physical integrity." My sister bites her lips.

"That's not it." With a few steps, I plop myself on the window sill with no elegance. "I just want to make sure he's not freaking out about this."

"Awww."

"That is so sweet."

"You guys are so in love."

"I'm gonna cry."

"No, don't ruin your makeup. The makeup artist already left."

I stare at them in a deadpan, but the only one who gets the hint is my mom. In a complete mother hen move, she starts herding the unruly women toward the door, saying, "Let's go find the broom. I'm sure we can find a way for him to not see the bride, so we can keep the good luck."

They're all flutter and chatter as they leave the room, and in the ensuing quiet I strongly regret Brooke's and my policy of no cellphones during the preparations. The whole idea was to heighten the excitement, but now I wish I could just call him .

Maybe ten minutes pass before the door opens softly and Brooke pokes a hand in to wave at me.

"Um, Liv?"

"I'm here." My dress rustles as I head over to him and clasp his hand in mine. "Hey, blondie. Are you coming in or not?"

He sighs heavily. "As much as I want to see you, I don't want to add more bad luck to today. I was told you heard."

"Yep." I make the p sounds pop, and his hand squeezes mine harder. "You shouldn't have tried to keep that from me."

"I just didn't want to worry you."

"But it's okay for you to stress by yourself?" I lift his hand to press my lips on the warm palm. "That's not what marriage is about, you goof. We're supposed to share the good and the bad, in sickness and in health and all that."

"You're right," he mumbles beyond the door. "Well, I feel like a definite goof now."

"And you should be. I'll marry you with hair ties if I must."

"I don't think I have any of those, but I'm sure the reception desk will have some rubber bands."

My face splits into a grin. "Those would work too."

Brooke tugs at my hand and I go with the motion until my arm pokes outside. I stiffen as his breath fans over the back of my hand. And then, ever so softly, he presses his lips to my knuckles like something out of a regency romance.

Except Brooke being Brooke doesn't leave it all sweet and chaste. Nah… His lips work a little on my big knuckle, the moist warmth promising a lovely, delicious wedding night. My knees weaken and I have to hold myself by the door frame so I don't swoon.

"Thank you," he mutters all of a sudden.

My voice is throaty as I ask, "For what?"

"For marrying me even though I'm a ditzy blond who managed to lose the wedding rings on his wedding day. "

That tears a little laugh out of me. "I love you not despite that but including it, you know?"

"And I love all that you are," he volleys back easily, not like he's just said the most beautiful words a bride can ever hear. "So we're still on?"

"Oh heck yeah. We're still in the game. Just promise me you won't try to shut me out every time something happens in the future."

"You have my word."

With that, the wedding proceeds. Even though rain pours while we drive to the church, and one of the groomsmen expels some noxious gas right before the ceremony starts, and the ceremony gets interrupted when the rings box appears in my niece's flower basket, we make our vows and are pronounced husband and wife.

It only hits me as we walk up the aisle together, our eyes trained on each other's and not on the way, or on the happy congregation around us, and Brooklyn enunciates the words…

"My wife."

Heat climbs up from my chest, my throat, to my face, and I have to blink back tears. Because at last it clicks on me that I made it, I married my best friend—the man I've loved my whole life, and who will love me back the rest of it.

I return, "Mi esposo." And we stop at the entrance for one more kiss to start the rest of our lives.

THE END

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