Claire
Sophia showed up at my door on a Saturday morning with three fat binders under one arm and a coffee in the other hand, looking simultaneously excited and completely overwhelmed, and I laughed the moment I saw her.
"Please tell me those are all for the wedding," I said, ushering her inside.
"Harold's assistant printed out venue packets for me. I may have gotten a little carried away." She dropped the binders onto my kitchen table with a heavy thud. "I don't even know where to start, Mom. I design entire hospital wings for a living, and somehow planning my own wedding feels a hundred times harder."
"That's because you get to be objective about a hospital wing. This one you actually have feelings about." I poured us both coffee, settling in across from her, pulling the first binder
