“It’s ten.” I smiled down at him. “The wedding’s not for another eight hours.” “Then why is she screaming?” “She’s not, actually.” “It sounds like it to me.” “Yeah, but you can probably hear paint peeling,” I suggested. He only groaned. “She’s only concerned that you guys aren’t gonna look pretty for pictures.” “Owww.” He winced, patting the couch beside him. “Sit.”
