“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…
“Your father-in-law is a generational talent at crisis pivoting,” Eddie shouted over the bassline. “He is literally going table to table, shaking hands, and establishing the new moral parameters of the Wilson dynasty. It’s breathtaking.”
The official wedding photographer—ironically, a vendor Margaret had ruthlessly vetted and hired—approached continue reading …
