Damon and I secretly tied the knot a week ago.
I mean, Manhattan has seen its fair share of scandalous, over-the-top weddings. But ours? Ours was as discreet as a mafia hit. No grand venues, no five-star hotels with champagne towers, no aisle lined with flowers that cost more than a car. Just a courthouse, a judge who looked like he had somewhere better to be, and two lovebirds who couldn’t wait any longer.
It's funny that I’d held out for a year—trying to teach Damon the act of self-control—and then once the deadline ran out, I couldn't wait an extra week.
When the news came out, everyone was mad at us. You'd think we found the Holy Grail and destroyed it.
Shanice ignored my texts for days, responding only with passive-aggressive ‘likes’ on my messages, which somehow felt worse than
