On the Morning of My Son’s Wedding, Our Family Driver Locked Me in the Trunk and Covered Me With a Blanket

moving for about ten minutes when Blake’s phone rang.

“It’s Natasha.” I heard the smile in his voice. He answered, put her on speaker.

“Good morning, handsome. How are you feeling? Nervous?”

Blake laughed. “But good nervous, you know? Like this is really happening.”

“It is.” Her tone shifted slightly — something underneath the warmth I couldn’t quite name.continue reading …