Matt diLorenzo was thankful to be on the phone when the gym’s receptionist, Roxie, dropped by his office to deliver the mail. Through the large window in front of his desk that overlooked the pool, he watched her approach and groaned as he saw her flipping through yet another jewelry catalog, the second this week. All he did was request a copy, one, and now he couldn’t seem to get off their damn mailing list. Every time a new catalog came, Roxie started in again on how he just had to let her be in the wedding.
What wedding? He wasn’t planning anything, really. He just thought maybe he and Vic could exchange rings, or something sweet like that. Hell, they lived in Virginia, for Christ’s sake. They couldn’t legally get married here. But Roxie had a dress all picked out, to hear her tell it,
