MAX
"Are you sure you want to do this, Max?" my sister says.
I know she means well, but that's not exactly a comforting thing to say to a guy who's about to walk down aisle.
"Yes," I say.
"Really?" she says. "Because you don't seem very happy."
"Because I'm nervous," I say. "I don't know why you're making such a big deal about this."
"Because I think you're making a mistake," she says. "I saw how you looked at Victoria, Max. You never look at Jacklyn that way."
"I love Jacklyn," I insist.
"You don't look like it," she says.
"Oh yeah? And how do I look?"
"Like a zombie," she says. "Like your soul is dead."
Her words cut deep. I want to yell at her, to lash out, but I know she's right.
Not that it matters.
"Yeah, well," I say, "it doesn't matter. Victoria doesn't want to be wit
