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 ...