"Breathe, Ansel, just breathe. Here, take a swig of this," Connor handed Ansel a small flask. "Unless it's liquid Xanax, I don't know how it would help," Ansel said irritably. "It's whiskey. It'll work like a charm and ease your nerves. You'll see," Connor said and gave him a thumbs up. Bastard. Connor and Anya eloped, so he had no idea what it felt like standing around waiting for the bride, Ansel thought. It was absolutely nerve-racking. His mind has been creating the most negative scenarios possible and he had no idea how to stop them. What if she changes her mind and decides to run away? Would she do that? If she does, she'd be stuck with not one but TWO of him. And they would drive her so crazy that she'd be forced to come back to him. Ansel found comfort in that. "Ansel, for fuck's sake, stop slouching," his mother Ariel barked next to him. "I wasn't slouching," Ansel said. "And wipe that scared look off your face
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