“What is this?” I whisper, looking around. There are sunflowers everywhere. Sunflowers and wildflowers with a small arch at one end. A man I don’t know is wearing a small smile, and I barely notice the photographer snapping shots as my eyes meet the guys, all dressed in shirts and light green ties. I almost laugh when I see how uncomfortable they look, but I can’t when Riggins answers. “Our wedding,” he whispers. “The way it should have always been. In our place, under the stars.”
