Laura
A car picked me up to go to some uptown office of the wedding coordinator that Stephen’s mother was using to plan our wedding. Why, I wondered, was this woman planning my wedding when she doesn’t even think I’m right for her son?
These thoughts consumed my mind as I rode in the back of the car.
“Excuse me, miss?” the driver said, snapping me from my thoughts.
“Oh, sorry. Yes?” I replied.
“We're here at the building. Is everything okay?” the driver asked.
I smiled and said, “I’ll be glad when this is over. Thank you.”
“Sure thing. I’ll be back later to pick you up,” he told me.
I nodded and opened the car door. Once I stood on the sidewalk, I looked up at the building in front of me.
It was a typical New York skyscraper—nothing special about it.
“Definitely not how I envisio
