Ivy frowned. “You’re drunk. That’s enough for tonight.”

“Let’s at least finish the toast,” he insisted, his eyes flushed and glossy from the alcohol, staring at Ivy with almost childlike devotion.

Tonight’s gathering had him daydreaming about what their wedding might look like. “To the toast! You can’t skip the toast!”

Their friends egged them on, clapping and cheering, refusing to let the couple off the hook!

In the end, Ivy relented, picking up her teacup and turning to face him.

Suddenly, the whole room fell quiet. Jamison’s gaze was intense as he reached across with his wineglass, his right hand extended.

Ivy, flustered and inexperienced, stood there with her teacup, face burning. She had no clue how to link arms with him for the toast.

Jamison just laughed softly and took her hand, looping it around his own arm without ceremony.

The group immediately burst out with laughter and teasing.

“See? They should have rehearsed! Total amateurs!”

“Ha ha ha…”

Ivy blushed even harder, a shy smile on her lips.

Jamison tipped back his glass and downed his drink, so Ivy hurried to take a sip of her tea.

The four friends applauded, calling out that the night was already worth it, making Ivy’s cheeks burn even hotter.

Dinner dragged on for another two and a half hours. By the end, all four men were thoroughly drunk–some passed out at the table, others rambling incoherently.

Ivy and Sophia were left to call rides and help Jay and Coach Murphy, who’d traveled in from out of town, get back to their hotel.

Dale Sullivan was in better shape; he ordered a cab and managed to get himself home.

After Sophia climbed into her ride, Ivy went back to the private dining room to collect Jamison, who was slumped, asleep on the couch.

“Hey, wake up… We’re going home!”

No response. After calling his name a few times with no luck, Ivy decided to get mischievous and pinched his nose.

Sure enough, a few seconds later, Jamison woke with a start, spluttering for air.

“What the hell…” His eyes blinked open, voice slurred and confused.

“Boyd will be here soon. Time to go home,” Ivy told him.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, but made no effort to move.

When Ivy tried to pull him up, he suddenly grabbed her and dragged her into his arms, hugging her tightly, his hands wandering under her clothes.

Ivy jumped, immediately grabbing his wrists and scolding, “Are you crazy? We’re in public!”

Jamison blinked up at her, a silly smile on his face. “Ivy… Everyone’s jealous of me…”

Ivy could only roll her eyes.

“Meeting you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love you, Ivy…”

She’d wanted to keep scolding him, but those words softened her. Instead, she coaxed him gently. “Everyone’s gone. It’s just us now. Let’s get you home, okay?”

He mumbled, “Anywhere with you feels like home…” and let his handsome head droop against her shoulder.

Boyd pulled up out front, and when the two didn’t appear, he figured Jamison was in no state to walk, so he came inside to look for them.

What he saw stopped him in his tracks: the uncle he’d always admired, clinging to Ivy like a child and whining softly.

Boyd’s eyes went wide.

Ivy spotted him like a lifeline. “Quick, help me get him up and out to the car. If we wait any longer, I’ll die of embarrassment.”

Boyd chuckled, but before he helped, he whipped out his phone and snapped a picture.

Ivy gawked at him. “You’ve got some nerve, don’t you?”

He grinned. “Come on, my uncle acting all sappy? This is pure gold.” Then, putting away his phone, he used his considerable strength to pry Jamison off her.

“Ivy, you’re too petite for this. Go get a male staffer to help,” he said sympathetically.

Glancing at her husband’s broad build, Ivy knew Boyd was right. She hurried off to find help.

After a small commotion, they finally managed to bundle the drunken Jamison into the back seat.

“Ivy, all this for meeting an online friend? Is he always this happy?” Boyd was baffled; after all these years, he’d never seen Jamison this drunk.

Ivy just sighed. “Honestly, I have no idea what he’s so happy about…”

Before she could finish, the man sprawled in the backseat murmured, “Happy I’ve got a wife…”

Boyd burst out laughing.

Ivy shot him a look. “Go back to sleep! The less you say, the better.”

God only knew what embarrassing things he’d blurt out next.

The car rolled onto the road, the cabin falling quiet.

Jamison shifted, clearly uncomfortable, and began muttering, “Honey, honey…” before finally collapsing, his head landing in Ivy’s lap.

He was heavy, and with his head pinning her down, Ivy could only hope they’d get home soon.

As if that weren’t enough, Dr. Ludwig was restless even in sleep, mumbling declarations of love the entire way.

“Ivy… Why won’t you let me kiss you…”

“You’re so cruel…”

“Ivy, I love you… Love you so much—”

“Honey… honey…”