“What do you mean there was an issue with the greenhouse?” I asked, my voice high and edged in panic.

“Ma’am, I’m so sorry. One of the assistants didn’t properly schedule the watering, and we didn’t catch on until too late. The flowers can’t be as wet as they have gotten and because it took so long to notice, a fungal disease formed,” the lady on the other end of the line explained calmly.

“Isn’t there a way to fix it? Can’t you get rid of the fungal growth? I mean, there’s still time.”

“I’m so sorry, ma’am.”

I swear to god if she kept calling me ma’am and saying she was sorry, I was going to lose it. I didn’t need this shit. It was like this month was filled with disasters determined to ruin our wedding.

“What am I supposed to do?” I asked, a sob catching in my throat.

“I can recommend some other suppliers, but with only three months’ notice, I’m not sure they would have the amount we’d initially agreed upon. You could always come in and take a look, or check our albums online. I’ve heard carnations are really big this year.”

I pulled a slow deep breath in through my nose, letting it expand my chest as I dug deep for patience. The edge of the kitchen counter bit into my hand, and my nail beds were turning white from how hard I squeezed.

Slowly, I ground out through a clenched jaw, “I don’t want carnations. I didn’t ask for carnations. I wanted calla lilies. White freaking calla lilies.”

“Accidents happen, ma’am. We are losing our whole product. Everyone is affected.”

I knew everyone was affected, but in that moment, all I could focus on was how this affected me, selfish as it may have been. “This is my wedding.”

“Again, I’m so sorry. I know how important this day is to any bride, and to have such a traumatic issue occur must be hard.” I swallowed down a scream. “Like I said, please come in and we can discuss an alternative. We would love to help you find another perfect floral arrangement.”

My chest rose and fell, faster and faster as darkness crept around the edge of my vision. I dropped my chin to my chest and let my hair fall around me, hiding from the world. “I’m going to have to call you back.”

I didn't even wait for an answer. I just swiped my thumb across the end button and turned to slide down the cabinets. My bottom hit the floor and I pulled my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them.

The apartment was empty, only the sounds of my heavy breathing and the afternoon news playing on the television from across the other side of the island I was hiding behind. Kevin was at work, if not on his way home already.

Fuck. Kevin.

A tear slid down my cheek as I thought of my fiancé. He’d been so patient with me over the past month as things slowly started going wrong. The closer we got to the wedding, the higher my stress levels reached. When school let out a few weeks ago, I turned all my attention to the details of the wedding and ached over every decision. To see so many of those decisions falling through and weighing on my shoulders was starting to crush me.

It showed in my relationship with Kevin. He’d try to help control the chaos and take on some of the burden, but I became snappish; angry at him for thinking it would be so easy to just give a command and the decision was made. This was our wedding. There would be two-hundred and fifty people there all looking at the wedding I chose to have. Would they find it lacking? Good enough?

Hell, it’d been a week since we’d had sex. A week.

Saying Kevin and I had a healthy sex life would have been an understatement. After it took us so long to finally find each other and accept the parts of ourselves that most wouldn’t, the parts of us that snapped into place perfectly, we hadn’t held back.

We'd had sex every opportunity we could, wherever we could. We experimented in ways we never could have imagined in high school. We were each other's playland, and I loved every single moment of it. He owned me, body and soul, and I gave it to him freely. Allowing him to take that weight off my shoulders. I could come home and shut off for the day, knowing he would love me and care for me in a way I didn’t even have to think about.

He’d find new ways to pleasure me, make me watch what he’d found on the internet before actually doing it. Sometimes he’d wait after showing me, letting the anticipation of what it would feel like fill me to almost bursting. Then, when I was sure I’d come from a single touch alone, he would begin enacting his plan. God, I loved him. Loved the way he loved me.

Roughly. Painfully. Sweetly.

I was his Ana, and I didn’t want to be anyone else.

But why would he want to be with a woman who was turning into a snapping shrew, too consumed with this wedding and all the decisions to focus on sex? To relax enough to let my body feel it. I’d pulled away from him too many times, and I felt horrible. But my brain was in overdrive, and I found it hard to focus.

Colors, dresses, food, drinks, location, invitations, flowers, cakes, parties, and then add ten more things that I would never have imagined. It never stopped.

And every person I knew had their own opinion to toss in or an issue they needed addressed. Last week, Kevin had to deal with the aftermath after my father had messaged me asking me to move his seat, right when I'd finally finished the damn seating chart. Of course, I lost it.

And maybe it wouldn’t have been too hard to move one seat, but it had irritated the shit out of me that my father was only concerned for himself. Kevin had to deal with my anger over it for the rest of the night. He’d held me and commiserated with me. And never once had he told me I was overreacting or ruining his night. He just sat with me and rubbed my feet until I passed out on the couch. Carrying me to bed, to, once again, go another night without sex.

He was going to leave me before we even made it to the altar.

Hell, it had been two weeks before we had sex after finding out that the bakery we ordered our cake from had closed up shop without notice or refunding our money. I’d cried every night when I thought about all that money and how I had to find another baker.

I was sick and tired of shit going wrong and adding to all the stress of having to make these decisions.

I just wanted to marry Kevin. I just wanted to call him my husband and spend my life with him. I was tired of waiting.

Thudding my head back on the wood cabinet, I tried to calm down. I needed to take deep breaths, find my center. If I had to buy flowers from Walmart, then so be it.

The news report coming from the television floated across the cabinets, seeming louder in the depressed silence that hung in our apartment.

“I can’t believe a church that had such an important history in Cincinnati is now gone,” the newscaster said. “Gianna is on the scene of the disastrous fire that claimed St. Mary’s.”

“Thank you, Andy. The fire marshal believes that the fire was most likely caused by faulty wiring, which is typical in such an old building. Thankfully, none of the nearby buildings suffered significant damage.”

No. No, no, no, no.

I scrambled to my feet to watch the news. A woman stood there in her black suit and white pressed shirt, holding a microphone and looking distraught as smoke and flames licked at the church behind her, which was unrecognizable other than the sign that stood about ten feet in front of it.

St. Mary’s Catholic Church.

St. Mary’s. The church we had waited for and somehow scored a date with due to a cancellation. The church where I was supposed to become Mrs. Kevin Harding.

Where the hell was I supposed to do that now?

I gripped the counter tightly and let loose a frustrated scream. I didn’t care who heard me.