He Can Keep My Ruined Suit

This was our third wedding rehearsal, and once again, Chelsea’s best friend, Cody, was wearing my custom-tailored suit.

He strutted up to me, tugging at the collar with a theatrical grimace.

"God, getting married is such a chore," he complained, his voice loud enough to carry across the room. "Why do guys have to wear these straight jackets? This thing is so tight, it’s practically cutting off my circulation." He patted my shoulder with a patronizing grin. "But hey, I’m taking the bullet for you today. No need to thank me.