“Are you sure you feel up to going, honey?” G stood in my bedroom doorway, looking worried. The creases around his eyes had darkened. He knew this was the very last thing I wanted to discuss with the world, but I wasn’t doing it for me. I was doing it for my parents.
“What would people say if I didn’t show up?”
“f**k them,” he bit out and held on to my shoulders to stop me from getting ready. “I hate that you are so your mother sometimes.”
I grinned, and he couldn’t help but match my love when he spoke about her. My mother was a beautiful woman who had a strong head on her shoulders. A storm to be reckoned with, my father would always say.
“I’m not doing this for anyone but them.” I leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Trust me, if I could show up in my Chuck Taylors and tank top, I would
