Page 1 of The Wedding Situation Romance

Chapter 1

Quinn

“Doyou think Justin and I are right for each other?”

My friend Dani is sweating bullets, her arms stretched out in the air while two of her other bridesmaids dab under her arms with hotel-provided washcloths in the hopes her perspiration doesn’t stain her pre-wedding wedding dress.

Yes, you heard that right.

She has a dress that looks almost identical to her wedding dress, except that it’s pink instead of white, that she’s using for the rehearsal dinner.

“Of course you are!” Regina says.

“Justin is such a catch. And he’s rich,” Mandy adds.

But Dani looks up at me as I fix her faux eyelashes for the third time. They keep falling off because she keeps crying.

“What do you think, Quinn? You’re the expert,” she pouts.

An expert, I am not.

I simply run a nonprofit called We Still Do, where I connect married couples on the brink of divorce with marriage counseling.

Most of the time, the couples are hard-up for money (counseling is very expensive and not usually covered by insurance) and walking through my doors is their Hail Mary.

I will say that our success rates are high. Nine times out of ten, if you can get the couple through the door, they’re on their way to healing.

Okay, so maybe I am sort of an expert.

But that’s just what happens when you’ve spent your entire life believing that love is the most important thing in life and any relationship can be saved.

“I think the question you should ask is, do you love him?” I say, still working on her lashes and praying she doesn’t start crying again.

Dani is an emotional girl. While most people don’t start crying until the actual wedding day, she’s been crying since she got engaged.

And the alcohol doesn’t help.

“Of course I love him. More than anything,” she says.

“And does Justin love you the same way?” I ask.

“Yes. He tells me every day. And he never gets upset about how many Amazon packages he has to wade through on the front porch every day when he gets home from work, as long as I recycle the boxes. Which I do…”

“God, that is love, isn’t it…” Mandy sighs.

All that aside, I offer Dani another reassuring smile. “I think you have nothing to worry about,” I say, and Dani smiles too. Then her lips quivered, tears flood her eyes, and her lashes are a mess, again.

Sigh.

But wardrobe malfunctions aside, everything is beautiful. The gala is gorgeous; the dinner is extravagant, and there’s even a live band (yes, for the rehearsal dinner), a dance floor, and an open bar.

I grab a flute of champagne and enjoy my favorite, favorite part of weddings: watching the bride, flirting, smiling, dancing, and kissing.

They made it. It’s their big day (well, tomorrow is) and their love made it.

It’s no secret that I am a romantic.

It’s also no secret that I love weddings, obviously.