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Monica sat across from Belle Mackenzie, the owner of The Wedding Belles, the planners Monica had hired for the wedding. But the heavy weight of the choices in front of Monica sat on her own shoulders. “So, darlin’, have you decided what you want to do?” Belle asked.

“He told you to hold the date?” Monica asked again, still surprised Ben had overridden her decision. She fingered the sample bouquet the florist, Callie, had designed. The pale white roses were punctuated by a few purple orchids, designed to pick up the color of the amethyst stones in her grandmother’s jewelry.

“He did. Seems to me that boy Ben still wants to marry you. I think he’s in love.” Belle smiled.

Three days ago, Monica thought she had this all figured out. She had called off her wedding, broken up with Ben and cemented her decision in her mind. It was over—she was done. But then she’d received the letter from her grandmother, and Ben had dropped off the one he’d received, and she’d begun to wonder if breaking up with Ben would mean making the biggest mistake of her life.

Then she’d gone to The Wedding Belles offices on Newberry Street to return the sample bouquet, and she’d found out Ben had kept the wedding plans in place. Because he had hoped that she would change her mind? Or because he refused to accept the inevitable?

“You know, I’ve been married a few times myself,” Belle said, reaching a hand across the table to give Monica’s a pat. “And every time, I was as scared as a mouse in a chicken coop of walking down that aisle. I think it’s the forever and ever thing that did me in. But I tell you, once I reached that church and looked into the eyes of my intended, I knew I was doing the right thing. Love isn’t easy, but it sure does make the hard parts easier to work through.”

Monica thanked Belle and left her office. It wasn’t until she reached her car that she realized she still had her sample bouquet in her hand. She hadn’t given it back after all. Was that a sign?

Her grandmother would have thought so.

Monica slipped behind the wheel and pulled out the two letters. They were very similar, as if Grandma Eloise had known that Monica and Ben needed nearly the same advice. Geez, she was getting advice from every angle this week.

She read her grandmother’s words again: Love is not the smooth ride you expect. It’s like a car with one bad tire. You’re always having to hold onto the wheel to keep that car on the right road, to keep it from driving you both into the ditch. I know you think your grandfather and I had the perfect marriage, that we were as matched as two socks. But what you saw was the result of sixty years of holding on to that wheel—with two pairs of hands. One person isn’t strong enough to do it, although there will be days when you’ll feel like you’re the only one steering that car.

Trust in Ben, Monica. Trust in your love. And trust that during the tough days ahead—and there will be tough days, just as there will be days so wonderful you will think you have kissed the edge of heaven—trust that the other three wheels will carry you.”

Monica tucked the letters into her purse then turned on the engine and put her real car in gear. She pulled into traffic then stopped at the intersection. To the right was the road that led to the Brookline Park. To the left was the road that led away from Ben. Monica flipped on her indicator and made the turn, the choice that decided the rest of her life.

Ben couldn’t remember ever being this nervous. Even the first time he’d asked Monica to marry him, he’d been pretty damned confident in her answer, so the few flutters he’d had in his gut had come mostly from the worry that he might flub the four-word question.

He paced the cobblestone path, not even noticing the natural beauty surrounding him. He was only looking for one beauty, and she had yet to arrive.

Then he saw a familiar figure cresting the hill, her strides long and purposeful, heading toward him. His heart soared, then reason tamped down the joy. He was still a long way from a yes.

“You came,” he said to Monica when she reached him.

“You said you had a question for me.” A smile curved across her face, and once again, Ben dared to hope.

“First, I have something to say.” He drew in a breath. “You were right. I didn’t take things seriously enough. When I saw how deeply your grandmother’s death had affected you, I realized how much I’d hurt you by not being there for you, emotionally, mentally.” He shook his head at how long it had taken him to get this vital information into his brain. “I know, I know, but I’m a guy. Sometimes it takes a little longer for me to get the point. I thought by always being the fun one that I’d cheer you up, take your mind off things. Instead, I should have paid more attention to what you really needed.”

“It’s not all your fault. I should have told you, too.” She reached for his hand, lacing her fingers between his. “After my grandmother died, I got scared. Scared that…”

He cupped her jaw, lifting her chin until her gaze met his, finally looking deep enough into her eyes to read her fears. “That you could lose me, too.”

She nodded, tears pooling in her eyes. “How did you know?”

“Oh, Monica, I know you so well. It just took me a little longer to put the pieces together.”

“I guess I thought that if I ended it now, I could save us both the pain of a divorce down the road.” She stepped into his arms, pressed her cheek to his chest. “I thought great marriages like my grandparents had started out that way from day one, but now I understand that you have to build them, one day at a time.”

“With both hands on the wheel,” Ben added, echoing the words that had been in his letter, too. She nodded, and her arms went around Ben’s waist, telling him she was back. “I never stopped loving you.”

“I love you, too, Monica.” He bent down and gave her a sweet, lingering kiss. Then he drew back and held out the ring. The stone glistened in the sun, like it was winking at them. “Will you still marry me?”

A smile curved across her face and joy exploded in Ben’s chest. “Yes, Ben. Yes, I’ll marry you.” She put out her hand, and he slid the ring on her finger, closing his hand around hers, as if cementing that bond forever. Happiness bloomed in Ben, the feeling so enormous, he was sure it radiated as wide as the sun’s rays. He held his fiancée for a long time, treasuring the gift in his arms.

“There’s one more thing,” Ben said. He turned and grabbed a bottle of champagne from the bench behind him. “We need to celebrate.” He undid the outer wrappings then placed his thumb against the cork. “What do you think it’s going to do? Explode and go flying, or just release with a nice, soft fizz?”

“I don’t know,” Monica said. “It could turn out either way. That’s part of the fun of champagne, isn’t it? The not knowing.”

Ben grinned and kissed the woman he loved. “I couldn’t agree more.”

Then they popped the cork. It careened away, pinging off a nearby tree. But Ben and Monica didn’t see any of that happen. They were too busy getting started on forever and ever.

The End