The 365th Delay Was My Last
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Summary
On our wedding day, Lauren was late. Again.
The venue was packed with guests, their murmurs echoing under the high ceilings of the ballroom, but there was still no sign of the bride. Her bridesmaids cornered me in the holding room, their voices dripping with that practiced, superficial sympathy.
“Wyatt, just be patient,” one of them said, patting my arm. “It’s not like this is the first time she’s run late. You should be used to it by now.”
“Exactly,” another chimed in, checking her lipstick in the mirror. “She’s late, not a no-show.
