It isn’t that hard to be a good maid of honor.
Always support your bride-to-be, co-host a gorgeous bridal shower,
And never, ever sleep with the father of your bride.
In my defense, I didn’t know who he truly was when we met.
My best friend’s father was more like a myth or a legend,
Yet the silver-haired fox I met after a canceled flight was charming, courteous,
And oh-so-clever enough to get me to fall for the weekend.
It was never supposed to be ’til death do us part.
That’s how I preferred it.
No strings. No rings. No heartbreak.
Now, I’m faced with the consequences of my actions again and again.
There’s the engagement party, the family dinners, the wedding preparations.
Southern society weddings are so much work, and the sinful look in his eyes is too tempting.
I’m a maid of honor for now, but if people knew the truth, they might realize “maid” and “honor” are two words that will never describe me again.
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