I’d be lying if I said I didn’t stare at him a little longer than usual that night. If I said that seeing his face, safe and sound in our house, didn’t feel sweeter that night than it ever had.

I must have been so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t hear Amanda’s voice the first time she called my name. I don’t know how many times she called before she shook me from my stupor.

But it sounded like something was wrong.

There was an urgency in her voice, almost a panic, that made me run.

Down the stairs and into the living room, where she sat on the couch, her phone in her hand.

“What is it?” I asked. “What?”

Amanda looked . . . scared?

No. She looked stunned.

She held her phone out to me, so I walked over and took it from her.

Her Twitter account was on the screen, and it took me a moment to figure out what I was looking at.

Then I understood.

Photos. And videos. Of Blake and Samantha being arrested in their wedding clothes. The scene that had played out before us just hours earlier.

I looked to the side, and sure enough, I saw the hashtags.

Trending. Nationally.

#weddingarrest

#brideandgroomjail

I couldn’t even look at it.

It had to have been started by people who knew them. And then it spread.

I couldn’t look.

“That’s sick,” I said.

“It is.”

“Do you know what I want to do?” I asked.

“I think I do. And I’m willing to do it if you are.”

I went and sat by her on the couch. I handed her phone back and slid mine out of my pocket. I took a deep breath.

“Are you ready?” I asked.

“I am.” She paused. “Are you?”

“I am. Really.”

We sat side by side and used our thumbs. Our opposable thumbs, which could be used for so much more.

It took only minutes, but we deleted all of our social media accounts.

Readers Guide

Questions for Discussion