The mayor tried to ruin me at the altar—until the pastor spoke a single name that brought the entire ceremony to a halt

flutes and the ruined, champagne-soaked silk of my custom maternity gown, my breath caught in my throat. I pressed my palm harder against my swollen stomach. The baby was still kicking, a frantic, rolling rhythm that mirrored my own skyrocketing heart rate.

I stared at Pastor Thomas, my vision swimming slightly from the swelling in my left cheekbone.continue reading …