“Of course. I’ll start looking for a dress now.” “Don’t worry about that, I’ll find you a dress,” he says, taking a sip of his own wine. I cover my frown with my glass. “You don’t want me to pick out my own dress?” He sighs with impatience, seemingly becoming fed up with me. I don’t know why. “Why do you always make me out to be the bad guy? Have you considered that maybe I just want to treat you? Take some stress off your shoulders, so you don’t have to worry about it?” I
