Our plane touched down in Dallas thirty minutes ago, and we’ve only just gotten our checked luggage when I get a text from the groom’s mother.
Can you pick up the vases from the florist?
And then an address follows.
Sure thing, I reply.
I told Owen to pass my number along to his parents in case they needed help with anything. I guess he took that to heart.
“Looks like we’re going to run a little errand to the florist. That okay with you?” I ask Aubree.
“I’m game, as long as we get to eat lunch after.”
“Deal. I’m starved too.”
The Dallas heat is oppressive. It seems to suck all the air from my lungs the moment we exit the airport terminal to head to the parking garage to get our rental car.
I know the rest of the guys were hooked up with sweet rides from luxury dealerships—Porsches
