Jefferson's POV
Weddings have always disgusted me.
The artificial joy, the hollow vows, the desperate attempt to force fantasy into reality when everyone knew most of these unions would crumble within years. As I made my way toward the altar, my only concern was calculating how many minutes remained until this charade concluded and I could return to genuine business matters.
Halle was predictably creating drama simply by being herself, her refusal to conform immediately branding her as the misfit she'd always been. I couldn't care less. Once the officiant declared us married, she would complete her magic, and this entire ordeal would become history.
Then Elisabeth stepped into the chapel.
