Page 31 of Wrong Number, Right Billionaire
"Thank you for proving that sometimes accidentally texting strangers works out better than any dating app."
Later that night,after our guests have gone and we've cleaned up the remnants of our perfect small wedding, Maxim and I sit on our deck under a canopy of stars.
"So," he says, pulling me closer on the porch swing he built last month. "How does it feel to be married to a tech billionaire?"
"Ask me again in fifty years."
"Deal. Though by then I'll probably be a cranky old hermit who talks to his animals more than humans."
"You already do that."
"Fair point. What about you? Any thoughts about our future, Mrs. Chen?"
I consider the question seriously. A year and a half ago, I was a single marketing manager in Atlanta whose biggest excitement was bad dates and work drama. Now I'm married to a man who owns half of Silicon Valley and prefers wolves to board meetings, living in a cabin in Nevada and running a nonprofit focused on wildlife conservation marketing.
It's not the life I planned. It's infinitely better.
"I think," I say finally, "that we're going to have the kind of love story that starts with accidents and ends with exactly where we're supposed to be."
"Even if where we're supposed to be is in the middle of nowhere with a judgmental wolf hybrid and a sock-stealing dog?"
"Especially then."
He kisses me under the Nevada stars, and I taste our future in it. Adventures and challenges, quiet mornings and passionatenights, building something beautiful together out of trust and compromise and the kind of love that makes everything else make sense.
"I love you, Chantay Chen."
"I love you too, Maxim Chen."
"Forever?"
"Forever."
We head inside to start our first night as husband and wife. I now know that sometimes the best things in life really do come from the most unexpected places. Wrong numbers and accidental photos and the courage to trust someone with your whole heart, even when it scares you.
Especially when it scares you.
Because that's when you know it's real.
