Maia Mesa grew up with her family in Cuba, but that suddenly changed, and she found herself in a position no one wishes to be, without family.
Marcus Burnett, a repentant and good soul takes her as his own daughter, as well his wife Theresa, a new...
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The party is in full swing, and the atmosphere is electric. After Christine and Mike exchanged their vows, sealing their love with a heartfelt kiss, they were officially married. The moment was nothing short of magical, and now the celebration has begun with an exuberant mix of laughter, cheers, and clinking glasses.
The reception is a stunning sight, the venue lit up with twinkling fairy lights and decorated with elegant floral arrangements that reflect the day's theme. The music is lively, and the dance floor is already crowded with guests swaying and spinning. Everywhere you look, people are smiling, toasting, and embracing the sheer joy of the occasion.
I've made a change for the festivities, swapping out my melon bridesmaid dress for a sleek black one. It's not just about comfort; the black dress is chic and allows me to move more freely as I dive into the celebration. The plan for the night is to fully immerse myself in the revelry—to drink, dance, and enjoy every moment until I either forget my own name or Mom drags me to home.
I wrinkle my face when I remember what I did the last time I was drunk. But today I will not commit the same stupidity.
I'm deep in the celebration with Kelly and Dorn, the drinks flowing freely, and I've lost track of how many glasses I've had. The festive atmosphere, combined with the effects of the alcohol, has made me unusually relaxed and chatty. My inhibitions have melted away, and I'm finding it hard to keep my thoughts to myself.
The joy of the wedding seems to amplify everything around me. The laughter of friends, the clinking of glasses, and the glow of fairy lights strung across the venue all blend into a vibrant backdrop. I feel a sense of euphoria, fueled by the alcohol and the celebratory spirit, making me more willing to share my candid opinions and observations.
The excitement of the day has unlocked a stream of unfiltered commentary, and I'm embracing the chance to let loose and enjoy the moment, even if my words come out a little slurred and my actions a bit unsteady.
"Kinda makes sense that he married his therapist after he got shot," Kelly remarks, while I take another hearty sip of my drink and nodding vigorously at her.
Dorn agrees. "I love that form; mental health is super important."
I glance over at him, raising an eyebrow. "Seriously?" I say, my voice louder than intended, drawing a few curious glances from nearby guests. I take another hearty gulp, my glass now dangerously close to empty.
Kelly takes a sip. "Well, it was his physical therapist."
My gaze shifts to a man walking toward Mike, accompanied by Rita. "Who's that guy with Rita?" I ask, idly toying with my empty wine glass.
