It isn't that hard to be a good maid of honor. Always support your bride-to-be, cohost 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.
Contains mature themes.