The morning of the wedding dawned pristine and bright. If I ever got married, I’d want a day like the one shining outside my window. Considering I’d barely reconciled myself to being Vic’s boyfriend, though neither of us had cemented the relationship by naming it, thoughts of a wedding and marriage seemed so future file as to be only a dream right now.
We got up, sore and a little tired from too much activity in my bed and not enough sleep, and rode to the Rock Bottom in Vic’s car, a jazzy deep red Jaguar XF, which he’d been keeping at Del’s garage. As we zipped around the county roads taking a very, very long way to the diner, all the happenings of the past week came zooming back to me.
A week ago, I’d been settled in the deep rut of running the hotel, hooking up with guys out of town f
