“Now you’ll never marry my son!” my mother-in-law laughed, setting my wedding dress on fire. I wiped my tears, smiled coldly, and said, “Enjoy destroying that dress, because the wedding was never the real trap.” Her face went completely pale when I made one quick phone call…

liberty of securing these an hour ago,” he stated quietly, his eyes meeting his son’s. “An executive contingency plan.”

We slid the cold metal onto each other’s fingers with hands far steadier than biology should have allowed. When Pastor Mitchell finally pronounced us husband and wife, the resulting cheer wasn’t the polite golf-clap of a country club continue reading …