On The Morning After Our Wedding, My Husband Threw A Greasy Dish Towel At My Face

drinking bourbon and acting smug in that way men do when they think they’ve arranged other people’s futures for them.

His phone buzzed.

Screen lit up.

Cole Mercer.

I wasn’t snooping. I was moving chairs because one of my aunts had decided the place cards needed “energy.” But I saw the preview.

Make sure she signs after brunch. Not before.

That sat wrong continue reading …