He shrugged. "I haven't even popped the question."

"Yet."

He shot me a sly smile. "You're my guinea pig. I'm going to observe and see how the married state treats you." I laughed, and he sent me a sheepish grin. "But speaking of all this…I made mistakes, too. I assumed that everyone approached a given situation the same way I would. I don't know much about your childhood, but what I do know…" He shook his head, shrugging. "Growing up, I lived a privileged and sheltered middle-class life. I shouldn't have assumed. So I am sorry. There. Now snowballs are waltzing through Hades at this very minute."

I nodded. "Thanks, man. Appreciated."

He bounced his foot some more, shifted in his seat, then leaned forward to get up. "Well, I'd—"

"I've got one more thing for you."

He stopped. "Shoot."

I laced my fingers together on the desk in front of me. "Will you be my best man?"

He blinked. "Define 'best.'"

I laughed. "What about best asshole, then?"

He nodded. "I can do that."

"Good. I'd say you've more than earned the slot over my cousin."

"I'm sure he's glad he's off the hook for the toast." He grinned.

"Also, I want to thank you for the quest. That was legitimately impressive."

He laughed and rocked in his chair again. "Ah, the highest form of compliment from the master of quests himself. I am deeply honored." He put his hand over his heart. "I only wrote the storyline. I commandeered Tony in development to implement it for me."

I shook my head. "Should I sue you for stalking? How'd you know all those details about my and Emilia's relationship?"

"I was around for most of that stuff at the beginning, and also…girls talk. Mia told April everything. April helped me write it all out and put all the romantic fluff into it."

"Maybe I should demote you as CFO and put you in charge of creative, then? It's gotta be more interesting than financial reports."

He glared. "Says you. Financial reports get me hard. Spreadsheets make me—"

I held up a hand. "TMI."

"True story." He laughed. "Lucas told me you put him on the spot in play testing when you were digging to find out who was behind the quest. The guy almost shit his pants and was practically hyperventilating when he came to me. I paid the poor bastard a bonus out of my check to make up for it."

I laughed. "I'll make sure to apologize to him today. Thanks for taking the best man gig. No bachelor party, though."

"Overruled. But don't worry; there won't be a stripper." I rolled my eyes. "Don't think I haven’t figured out what you're up to. Putting me in a tux to stand next to you at the altar? All to give April ideas."

"This will probably be the first wedding you've attended where you don't bang a bridesmaid."

He got up from his chair. "I'll be shagging the hottest chick there—aside from the bride, of course. That's my consolation."

"Better get that diamond ring picked out." I winked. "A wedding is the perfect place to pop the question."

He made it through the door, but not before flipping me the bird.

***

A couple weeks later, Emilia signed the finalized prenuptial agreement. No commentary. No resentment. No pomp and circumstance. We had witnesses document the occasion for us and certify that there was no coercion on either party's part. We were signing of our own free will and accord.

When we returned home, she found the document that I'd left for her. It sat in the middle of her desk in an antique-looking envelope, sealed with a red wax seal and ribbon, all official and old-fashioned like.

Once she noticed it and sank slowly into her desk chair, I made myself scarce. I'd written her name in blue fountain pen on the outside. She'd know immediately it was from me. If not from my writing, then definitely from the fact that no one else called her by her full name.

A week before, I'd typed out the rough draft.

 

I, Adam Drake, hereby give my prenuptial promise to Emilia Kimberly Strong, the woman who will soon be my wife. And that's forever… So the promises I make here are the promises I make for that forever.

There is no "if" or "when." There is only us.

Together, we've created a new, unique program. A code that only you and I could write, giving our lives to each other. The test will be when we compile—and set that code to run. And yes, every day will be a trial run. But we can make those a triumph. Every day.

 

I went for a walk—since I wasn't cleared to go running yet. The doc had declared my spleen still swollen, though much improved. She wanted to give it another week or so, to err on the side of caution. And Emilia was watching me closely to prevent me cheating. I had privately nicknamed her the Enforcer.

But the doctor said I'd be fine in time for the wedding. Thank God.

Any more hurdles getting this woman to the altar and I'd lose my mind. Not long now.

After hitting the end of the beach this side of the jetty, I turned back toward the house a half-hour later. I caught sight of her running toward me down the paved walkway and bike path that lined Newport Beach. She must have used her phone app to locate me.

Once she caught up to me, cheeks flushed and out of breath—and more beautiful than ever—she might have tackled me were she not overly concerned for my delicate spleen. I stopped, facing her, and she gazed up at me, all round-eyed. Reaching out, she wrapped her arms around me, snuggling close. I returned the hug and kissed the top of her head, overcome with feelings as strong as if I'd been toppled by one of the waves currently pummeling the shore. Love. Pride. Peace. Satisfaction.

"Wow. I should have waited to give you that next week when I'm cleared for sex," I murmered said into her hair, breaking the sappy sentimentality of the moment. "I think I wasted a great way to get you in the sack."

She gazed up at me, grinning. "Oh, don't you worry. Nowadays, merely glancing my way would get me in the sack."

"Good to know. One more week and you aren't going to be able to keep me off you."

She smoothed her cheek against the fabric of my shirt, her arms gripping me tighter. "I'm counting on it."