Jack shot a nervous glance toward the dining room, then scowled and shook his head. “Na-uh,” he grumbled. “I’m happy to leave it to them.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t care what they choose.”
Steve paused to consider that, taking a sip of his beer. Then he bent forward and set the bottle down on the coffee table. “Jack, it’s your wedding! How can you not care about the details?”
“Because no matter what they choose, it will be a big, stuffy event where I have to wear a bunch of uncomfortable clothes. Since my particular brand of sensory perception makes me hyper-aware of anything touching my body, it will quickly start to get on my nerves.
“And then I’ll have to rein in my eccentricities so that my various aunts and uncles don’t whisper about how I ruined the big day. To say nothing about w
