Meg: Cabot Royal Wedding

Michael took the monstrosity off my head and set it aside. He cupped my face in his hands. “Mia. Listen to me. I don’t care if you wear a paper bag. I don’t care if the cake is tofu. I don’t care if your grandmother’s poodle, Rommel, is the flower girl. At the end of that aisle, I’m just going to see you. The same girl who used to pass me notes in Algebra class. That’s the only royal wedding I want.”

“It’s my great-grandmother’s wedding dress,” I said, clutching the vintage lace to my chest. “It’s sentimental.” meg cabot royal wedding

Michael kissed my forehead. “That’s my girl.” Michael took the monstrosity off my head and set it aside