If you ever get married, remember my name: Max Henderson. In my line of work, you acquire a certain perspective on supposedly everlasting unions....
1.Pre-nups are your friend.
2.The person you married is not the person you’re divorcing.
3.And I hope you didn’t spend much on the wedding because that was one helluva waste of hard-earned cash, wasn’t it?
But some guys are willing to take a chance. Like my brother, who thinks he’s going to ride off into the sunset with the woman of his dreams in a haze of glitter on unicorns. And the wedding planner - the green-eyed beauty who makes a living convincing suckers to shell out thousands of dollars on centerpieces - is raking it in on this matrimonial monstrosity.
The thing is, Charlie Love is not unlike me. We’re both cogs in the wedding-industrial complex. As the best man, I know her game - and I can play it better than her. But after one scorching, unexpected kiss, I’m thinking I might just want to get played.
