No, I said emphatically, I’m NOT Bridezilla.
Red or white?
The most important thing is Jerome and me. Our day, us.
White? Traditional, my mama says.
Jerome, who has a cowlick over his sleepy eyes first thing in the morning, and who cradles me in his sleep as though I am dear and precious. Jerome, whose stinky sports shoes HAVE to be left on the outside verandah.
Red? The colour of scandal, love, blood, hearts, fire, rich things, roses with scent to haunt you always.
Jerome’s eyes light with laughter when he sees me coming down the aisle. Red. Yes.
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