What’s the point of speeches if the groom isn’t present? I start to panic-they can’t start the speeches without Armstrong at my side. I’m about to tell Ruby to give him another minute when a low buzz suddenly fills the hall. I have hope that Armstrong and I will be more like Bane and Ruby now that we’ll be sharing the same bed every night. Cohabitation hasn’t slowed them down on the sex or their PDA. Recently I find myself getting a little jealous of how affectionate they still are with each other, even after all this time. “Would you like Bancroft to find Armstrong?”īancroft, or Bane for short, is Ruby’s boyfriend who she’s been living with for several months. Ruby, my maid of honor and best friend for the past decade, puts a hand on my shoulder. I’m hopeful it will last more than five minutes.

I should switch to water soon so I don’t end up drunk, especially later, when all of this is over and we can celebrate our lifelong commitment to each other without clothes on. “Where the hell is he?” I scan the room and take another small sip of my wine. That I, Amalie Whitfield, can make good choices and am not a disgrace to my family. I want it to be reflective of my decision to marry Armstrong. If we don’t start on time I’ll have to take out a song, or possibly two, to compensate for his delay and he’s selected the order in such a way as to make that difficult and that will annoy him. The music playlist, devised by Armstrong with painstaking efficiency, leaves no room for tardiness. The longer Armstrong takes to return, the further behind we’ll get. Tipsy speeches could lead to saying the wrong thing. Speaking in front of all of these people makes me want to drink more, which is a bad idea. The sheer number of people in attendance spikes my anxiety. My dating history pre-Armstrong wasn’t fabulous. I glance around the hall and see my parents, who are probably celebrating the fact that I didn’t walk down the aisle with a convicted felon. Besides, I don’t want it to stain my teeth. Armstrong pointed out that red is not a good idea with my dress, even though it’s my preference. Dear God, why does that make my stomach twist? The one where we get to celebrate our commitment to each other as partners for life. The emcee for the evening is awaiting Armstrong’s return before he begins.

According to my phone, that’s less than two minutes from now, and he’s not here.

My husband excused himself to go to the bathroom several minutes ago and, based on Armstrong’s itinerary for the day, speeches are supposed to begin promptly at eight-thirty. I’ve already done the hard part walked down the aisle and said “I do.” So I’m not exactly certain why the uneasy feeling I associate with cold feet is getting worse rather than dissipating. This should be the happiest day of my life. I allow that thought to roll around in my head, trying to figure out why it doesn’t seem to resonate the way it should.

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