“Don’t reorder a single invitation.”
I blinked.
“What?”
Mavis’s smile faltered.
“We’re not replacing them.”
I stared at him.
“Ryan, people need invitations.”
“We have a wedding in ten weeks.”
“I know.”
“Ryan, people need invitations.”
“Not anymore.”
“What are you talking about?”
Ryan squeezed my hand.
Frank arrived shortly afterward.
“We’re changing the wedding.”
Mavis stared.
“No, you’re not!”
He turned toward her.
“Yes. We are.”
Frank arrived shortly afterward. He took one look at the ruined invitations, then at Mavis, and barely said a word through dinner.
“We already have a small wedding.”
That night, after his parents left, I asked Ryan if he was serious.
He opened his laptop.
“Completely.”
“About what?”
“Small wedding.”
“We already have a small wedding.”
He turned the screen toward me.
“Smaller.”
“How much smaller?”
He turned the screen toward me.
There was a beach resort on it.
