The pixie woman and her bodyguard are nowhere to be seen. If Tyler wasn’t carrying my laptop, I’d swear I hallucinated them too.
“We’re fixing your business model,” Maren tells me. She and Daisy are hunched together on dining room chairs that have been pulled in near the fish tank.
“It’s a great plan,” Veda says.
She beams at Maren.
Maren blushes.
And oh my god.
It’s suddenly crystal clear why I haven’t been able to match her.
Brianna tackles me with a hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay. We were super worried. yesterday.”
“I have three friends who want your screening services,” Julie says.
“And I have six friends who want you to write their dating profiles for them,” Eugenie adds. “At first I was so pissed at that dumb gossip rag for searching out your profiles on the various apps, but then I was like, damn, Muffy knows how to represent us.”
West shoves a bag at me. “Here. Eat. I’ll fend them off until you’re not quite so green.”
“What’s happening?” I ask Tyler as he sets my laptop aside and helps me dig out the fried fish and chips.
“Friends and people who believe in you,” he replies. “Because you, Muffy Periwinkle, provide a valuable service to women who feel like they don’t quite fit.”
“Muff Matchers isn’t a failure,” Veda tells me. “It’s a work in progress, like we all are.”
“And sometimes you need a helping hand to figure out the best part of your business,” Daisy adds.
“We’re helping steer you in a little clearer direction,” Maren agrees.
“One that doesn’t put you on the streets having dates with weirdos all the time.”
“Or at least quite as much.”
“Not after your website upgrades.”
Tyler pulls me into his lap on the couch and shoves a piece of fish in my mouth. “Eat. And be happy. And then I’m kicking all of these people out so you can get some rest before you get back to work tomorrow. Okay?”
Happy.
Holy crap.
I am. I’m happy.
Muff Matchers isn’t dead. It’s just starting.
My clients believe in me, apparently more now that they know how I’ve been screening their dates.
And there’s a very attractive man who’s not grunting under the weight of me as he feeds me my favorite hangover food and squeezes my thigh.
“Oh, and your mother called,” Maren says. She and Veda share a look and roll their eyes together. “She said to tell you she’s very proud of you, and that she and William and his nephew would love to take you out for lunch soon so you can tell her all about the things you’ve been up to with Muff Matchers.”
That’s weird.
Very weird.
I shift a look at Tyler.
He stares back like an innocent little lamb, and suddenly, I’m cracking up. “What did you do?”
“Anything necessary to make you happy.” He winks, and I swear I fall in love with him all over again. “Fries? Or do you want me to kick these people out now?”
Remy toddles over and holds a hand out. “Fie?”
Tyler grins and hands it over, earning a massive smile from his little nephew, and there my heart goes getting all melty again.
My boyfriend—my sexy, smart, handsome, stubborn, loves me for me boyfriend—will make the best dad one day.
And I can’t wait to share that day with him.
Epilogue
Tyler Jaeger, aka a groom in absolute and utter heaven
Eloping to Vegas during the all-star break is the best idea I’ve ever had.
After my idea to propose to Muffy, of course. And the one before that, when I decided she needed to know I love her. And the one before that, when I took it upon myself to insist on accompanying her to an overnight trip where I pulled the studly move of passing out in a funeral home.
After lots of debate, I’ve concluded my bride never would’ve agreed to continue talking to me if I hadn’t shown her my own disastrous side.
And speaking of disasters, my entire family is crashing this elopement, which is basically my favorite disaster ever.
The weather’s warm, my nieces and nephews are running around the pool beside the gazebo I reserved, and most of my best friends on my team are here.
So are most of Muffy’s clients.
So we’re not exactly doing this eloping thing very well, but if I’m going to fuck something up, I’m happy to fuck it up so that our friends and family can be here with us.
“You ready for this?” West asks me.
He’s my best man, and Connor, Duncan, Nick, and Rooster are standing in as my groomsmen. I would’ve asked Ares, but he’s occupied with all-star weekend stuff.
Freaking overachiever.
Still, it’s pretty cool that the all-star stuff is here in Vegas, so he’ll be around for the after-party.
“I was born into a family that made me ready for this,” I reply.
He snorts in amusement. “Finally figured out what our sisters were training you for all those years?”
“Don’t tell them, okay? Don’t tell Muffy either. I keep letting her think she’s training me herself.”
He snorts again. “No, you don’t.”
“Okay, I don’t. But she still appreciates that I don’t mind buying tampons.”
“Happiness looks good on you.”
Feels good too.
Would I rather be out having one-night stands with puck bunnies and college chicks?
Nope.
I’d rather spend my days making Muffy feel like the queen of the fucking universe.
Seeing her happy is worth more than any desire to be by myself.
And seeing her succeeding in helping make other women happy is the icing on the cake.
Her adapted business plan?
Let’s just say that even if Muffy’s student loans hadn’t been mysteriously paid off through a random act of kindness on the same day as her bridal shower, pre-empting my own plans to take care of them, she wouldn’t be having any trouble making the payments now.
The band strikes up the music, and my sisters and Kami and Veda all troop down the aisle.
We really are doing this eloping thing wrong.
Plus, there are uneven numbers of bridesmaids and groomsmen.
Hilda’s already sobbing in the front row. She’s gotten better about complimenting Muffy and not making such a big deal out of size, but she’s still outspoken and needed two warnings to quit making eyeballs at my brother.
Daisy’s personal bodyguard is standing next to my future mother-in-law, though, and growls every time she glances West’s way.
It’s his wedding day gift to me to watch her jump.
Even Hilda knows better than to try to seduce Alessandro.
And Daisy herself is dolled up with pink hair and a silver sparkle jumpsuit today, standing in as our justice of the peace to perform the ceremony.
The band switches songs, and a woman steps to the back of the aisle, dressed in a short white dress, with jet black hair, and I choke on air.
“That’s not Muffy,” West mutters.
She steps hesitantly halfway down the aisle, then her gaze lands on me, and fuck me, if I have to go find my bride—