I stared at him.
“You’re joking.”
“You. Me. Your sister. My brother.
Our closest friends.”
“No.”
“Ryan.”
“Think about it.”
“You. Me. Your sister. My brother. Our closest friends. Maybe twenty people.”
“My aunt.”
“Obviously.”
“You really want to do this?”
“Your dad?”
He hesitated.
“Probably.”
“You really want to do this?”
“I want to marry you.”
He continued.
“I’ve spent months watching Mum turn our wedding into something neither of us wants.”
“I don’t care about chair covers. I don’t care about centerpieces. I don’t care whether Dennis, my mysterious second cousin, gets chicken or steak.”
“I’ve spent months watching Mum turn our wedding into something neither of us wants.”
“So, today was just the nail in the coffin?”
Part of me hated the idea that Mavis’s behavior might decide what our wedding became.
Then I pictured twenty-four people on a beach instead of ninety-six people in a room she’d spent months trying to control.
