By Chance, By Fate
The driver stepped out, his gloved hands opening the back door with a practiced bow.
“Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Morgan,” he said, his accent crisp and polite.
“We’re not married yet,” I corrected, climbing into the car.
“Close enough,” Charlotte quipped as she slid in beside me, settling into the plush leather seats with practiced ease.
The car was warm, a welcome change from the biting cold outside. I stretched out a bit, watching as Charlotte pulled out her phone, her fingers already flying across the screen.
"So," she began, glancing at me briefly. "Liam said the rehearsal dinner starts at six tomorrow. That gives us just enough time to—"