“I-I have never performed a marriage ceremony before,” he stutters, tugging on the collar of his dress shirt underneath. “Then, you better be amazing at improvising,” I say and pull my girl closer to my side. “Which one would you prefer to go first, baby? Orthodox, Protestant, or the judge.” “Um . . . I don’t have a preference.” Nera rises to her toes and whispers in my ear. “Maybe you should untie them first. They seem a little freaked out.”
