“Why am I so fucking nervous, dude?” I ask, bewildered at the butterflies that have taken flight in my stomach. “Because you’re marrying the girl of our dreams, you fucker,” Loki replies, and I know that he’s only half joking, his hand tightening a little more on my shoulder. “Yeah, I know, bro,” I reply, turning to look at him, just as the musicians start playing the bride’s piece of music.
