AmyVows in Venice.
Family.
Being Mrs. Porter.
Vegas weddings aren’t given the credit they deserve. I’m amazed with the beauty of my surroundings.
There’s no cheesy chapel with crimson-red carpet that was installed in the eighties. Elvis isn’t marrying us, and we aren’t drunk out of our minds. This moment is nothing like it’s portrayed in the movies. Sure, if we wanted those things, they’re definitely available. This is Vegas after all. But our version is so much better.
My dress is elegant, simple, white, and flowy. I got it right off the rack at a local bridal shop this week, and it couldn’t be more perfect. Lily and Keeley stand beside me in little black dresses.
Landon faces me, more gorgeous than he’s ever been in his tux, his brother standing proudly beside him. The minister is
