Where do I even start? Maybe from the beginning? Like the goddamn idiot I am, I thought hey, why not start an HR nightmare and have my assistant ask me to marry her? In a pair of belly-covering slacks and suspenders, hair pulled back into a tight bun like she often wears it, looking up at me through her red-framed glasses, her bright blue eyes shining past the lenses, begging me to go along with this ridiculous scheme I suggested. How the fuck did I allow myself to get in this position? With my quirky and sometimes annoying but mostly efficient assistant, kneeling in front of me. 'Boss man bridegroom?' she asks with a cheeky grin. But if you marry me, I would give you the dignified pleasure of retaining the honorable title of bridegroom.' But then somewhere along the way they shortened it to groom. You see, that’s what they used to call men who were soon to be married. 'See, I knew I was doing something wrong.'

'Did I not do it right?' she mumbles to herself. 'And I didn’t think I’d get emotional either.' On a deep breath, she finishes, 'Will you do me the greatest honor of all time and be my bridegroom?' 'I sure as hell hope not,' I say through gritted teeth. 'I’m sorry, I’ve never done this before.' ' She tears up, her voice becoming shaky. ' She wobbles on her bent knee and clutches my hand to steady herself. Big Shot, Barking Britches, and Irritable Ira-' 'Go with it.' She winks and clears her throat. 'Rath Westin, my boss, my commander in chief, my Gucci Governor-'

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