Iris disappears around the side of the house and comes back with his German shepherd … wearing a white dress. The dog, not Iris. Though I wouldn’t have put it past him. “Do Atlas and Lemon know about that?” I ask Saint. “Yes, but I think they thought he was joking.” Trust Iris to bring the entertainment, but not only has he made Princess the ring bearer, but he’s assigned himself the role of flower person. He walks down the aisle, throwing white flower petals above his head while Princess tries to catch them in her mouth. Iris struts, and he spins, continuously reaching into a black fanny pack
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