Wren
I frown at my phone for the twentieth time in the past hour.
I’ve been calling Ezra since I woke up this morning, but he isn’t picking up. Neither is he returning my calls.
I’m trying not to worry, but it’s so unlike him.
It’s 9:00 a.m.
My make up has been done, my hair done, wedding dress—which I finally found and loved—donned on.
Even my brides maids, little bride and Hannah are all set…though both kids are with Quincy and the other flower girls.
It’s literally almost time to head to the venue which is a few minutes away, and from what Mrs Dee tells me, the guests have already started settling.
And yet, I haven’t heard from Ezra…or Ray, all morning.
“We’ve got everything packed up,” one of my stylist says, tapping on the small suitcase. “All the change of clothes, shoes, m
