Chapter 7
LOGAN
Instead of heading south toward our hotels, we make a few quick calls and find a chapel just north of us that has an opening in an hour.
I take my wife-to-be’s hand and we start walking. I tell her to talk medicine to me. She just laughs and says I’m the funniest man she’s ever met. Most people think I’m about as funny as the league-mandated concussion spotters, so I lean into it. I must have my A-game on tonight.
Outside the chapel, she helps me into my jacket. My shirt is hopelessly rumbled from all the making out and celebrating, but she promises she doesn’t care.
I arrange for a limo to take us back to the hotel when we’re finished.
Only the best for my wife.
We buy rings at the counter, and hand over our newly acquired wedding license. Neither of us really looks at it. We only have eyes for each other.