I thought my mom’s wedding at 70 would be a quiet, sweet affair—until she announced a shocking rule for whoever caught her bouquet. I tried to step back, but it landed right in my hands. My mother, radiant and mischievous, had always done exactly what she wanted, and today was no exception.

She had found love again with Harold, insisting life was meant to be lived fully, and I couldn’t help but contrast her fearlessness with my own post-divorce cynicism. While she prepared for the wedding, I reflected on the heartbreak I’d endured and how I had spent years rebuilding myself, convinced I didn’t need love.

On the way to the ceremony, my tire went flat in the middle of nowhere. A tall, charming man named Nick stopped to help, though his antics immediately annoyed me. Moments later, he was revealed as the “date” my mother had secretly arranged as part of her bouquet challenge, leaving me stunned and reluctant.

The wedding was extravagant, full of laughter and dancing. My mother gleamed as she revealed the twist: whoever caught the bouquet would go on a date with someone of her choosing. I reluctantly accepted my fate, facing Nick for a single date, determined to keep expectations low.

Our first date began awkwardly at a café, but despite my reservations, Nick’s charm made me smirk more than once. However, he abruptly left to deal with a personal matter involving a woman named Julie, adding confusion and frustration to the mix.

The next day, I discovered Nick had a teenage daughter, Julie, explaining the chaos. Over dinner with him and his daughter, tensions eased, laughter returned, and I finally felt a spark of connection. For the first time in years, I allowed myself to hope—and maybe even embrace love again.