My 100th Wedding Is Not Yours
Language: en
This was supposed to be the day. For the ninety-ninth time, I was standing in the sterile, fluorescent-lit hallway of the County Clerk’s office, waiting to finally sign the papers that would make Regina Montgomery my wife. Then her phone buzzed. A FaceTime call. It was Toby. Her “best friend.” He was sobbing, his face pressed uncomfortably close to the camera, filming himself on a sidewalk downtown. Apparently, he’d tried to ride a city bike in skinny jeans, and his zipper had gotten caught in the chain. He was trapped, howling about the pain and the embarrassment of people…