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This dress fits me perfectly. Not exactly snow white, but an antique, sexy, Victorian type of cream color that's both timeless and sophisticated. It's also absolutely beautiful, and the cut of the slim-fitting, calf-length dress fits me like a glove and accentuates the curve of my hips and the swell of my breasts.

It’s the perfect choice for the dress that I will stand before my family members and promise to love the man who's been the love of my life since I was a teenager.

That's right, today I will stand before my family and marry Cohen Bradley.

Though it won’t be every cousin, aunt, and sibling to each relative four times removed, today is the day Cohen and I have decided to become husband and wife.

And our family will be in attendance. My mother and father, and Cohen's mother and father will be there. No one else. At least, not until the reception at the community hall gets underway later on tonight, a party which I compromised by allowing Cohen's mother to plan and execute all the festivities that went along with it.

The compromise was simple—the ceremony is ours, and the party afterward could be attended by anyone they sought fit to be there.

Which is exactly the suggestion I had planned to make to Cohen the day after our engagement party, but instead, I let him believe it was his idea first. You know, a compromise.

Surprisingly, both of our parents took the news rather well. Cohen's mother got the party she wanted to throw, to be able to show off her dashing son and his blushing bride, and we got our intimate, short-but-sweet and beautiful ceremony, with only our parents there to witness it.

Now, I'm standing here with my father, who looks about ready to cry at any given moment, and my mother, who's already crying into the tissue balled up in her hand, and I'm waiting for Cohen’s mom to come back through the door and tell me it's time.

Time to walk into the room where the town hall’s clerk will perform a civil ceremony and make me Mrs. Vienna Bradley. Something I've dreamed about for as long as I can remember.

“We’re really going to do this,” I say, turning to my dad.

He tilts his head, giving me a jokingly wary look. “Don't tell me you've got cold feet now,” he says wryly. “If what I saw earlier when I was downstairs where Cohen’s getting ready with his father is any indication, I'm not sure that boy is going to let you get away from this hall without taking his name first, Vi. Be warned.”

I laugh, mostly because I know he's right. Cohen has been practically vibrating for the last forty-eight hours, using every chance he's had to remind me that soon he'll be able to call me his wife, and there's nothing now that could prevent it from happening.

There's actually a mental image running through my head of me jokingly telling him that I don't think we should get married, which then results in Cohen tossing me over his shoulder like a caveman and running down the aisle toward the clerk to make sure I say the words needed in order for us to finally become married.

But that's not something I could ever joke about, and I certainly can't imagine not marrying Cohen Bradley now.

Since we sat down and voiced our concerns to his parents, advising that we had different plans for how our wedding day would go, things have been different. They've been good. Really good.

When Cohen told me that he found sassy Vienna sexy, he wasn't kidding. And each time I use my new assertiveness to let someone know—whether it be him or someone else in his presence—that there's something I want to change, or do differently, or give an opinion about, he gives me that faint crooked smile of his, and I have to look away. Because if I lock eyes with him for too long, I see the smoldering lust that burns away in his eyes, and it's much harder to maintain my stance, much less do anything else other than sneaking off to a room somewhere with him to try to quench that lust.

Cohen's mother suddenly appears in the doorway, her hand gripping the door handle and pushing the door open wide. She's practically bursting at the seams.

“They're ready,” she advises us, her voice thick with emotion.

This is it, I think to myself. There's no turning back now.

Not that I want to, but it's just hard sometimes to fathom that we're finally going to get to do this.

To be us. Cohen and Vienna Bradley.

We make our way down the small hallway that leads to the main town council quarters, where Cohen's mom has strategically placed sporadic bouquets of light purple and white lilies on the different surfaces of tables and cabinets about the room.

She picks up one of them that's tied with a simple strip of white lace and hands it to me. “You've always been family, Vienna.” she whispers, holding back tears. “This, today, doesn't make you family. It only confirms what we already knew.”

I haven't even turned to see Cohen yet, and there are already tears threatening to ruin my mascara. I smile and pull Cohen's mom in for a hug, and she hugs me back just as tightly. I can't bring myself to respond to that. A simple thank you wouldn't be enough, and any other words would send me into a crying fit.

She squeezes my hand and presses the stems of the bouquet into my fingers. I just nod, but the glistening at the rims of her eyelids tells me she understands. She's struggling just as much to keep her emotions in check.

I turn away from her, intent on seeking out my dad and finding out where we're supposed to be. My eyes rest on the man at the front of the room, however, and I take a small, sharp breath in when I realize it's him.

Cohen.

He's dressed in a simple black suit with a white dress shirt, a small purple flower tucked in the pocket of his jacket. His eyes are locked on mine, too.

I see his throat move visibly, swallowing past the lump in his throat that I know is there.

Because I have a similar phenomenon going on right now, and the sight of him in such a formal outfit with his hair gelled and his face cleanly shaven is sending a series of pulses and shocks coursing through every vein, making every synapse in my brain fire rapidly with only one message getting through to my consciousness.

Get closer to him.

It's a need I can't express, and something that seems almost innate for me to want to do.

Thankfully, the clerk is opening the book before her and she waves me forward. “Whenever you're ready.”

It's time, I think again. And this time, I don’t think about the past, or the winding, emotional road we took to get here. I just think about us, because that’s what matters.

I take my father’s arm and allow him to walk me to the other end of the room. It’s not exactly an aisle, per se, and there are no other guests fawning over the sight of me in a wedding dress.

But Cohen’s at the other end of the path we take, and as my dad kisses my cheek and whispers that I’ll always be his little girl, he’s still doing the most important part of this ceremony to me—he’s giving me to Cohen, giving his blessing for us to continue on in this life together.

And that’s all I’ve ever wanted.

The rest of the ceremony happens in a blur. I know the officiant is speaking, and I’m aware that both my mother and Cohen’s mother are crying quietly, and I’m aware that my gaze never deviates from being locked with Cohen’s piercing eyes. He doesn’t look away, either.

The clerk asks me to repeat after her, and I do, with the most even voice that I can muster.

“Do you, Vienna Janine Anderson, take this man, Cohen Jacob Bradley, to be your husband?” she asks.

“I do,” I say, swallowing down the emotion that’s bubbling up inside me.

“And do you, Cohen, take Vienna to be your wife?”

“I do,” he replies steadily. “Forever.”

I’m not sure which mother, his or mine, begins to sob freely, but I don’t turn to check. Because the clerk has just pronounced us husband and wife, and I can’t concentrate on anything but the fact that I need to kiss the man before me and make him feel the tidal wave of emotions that are flooding through me right now.

Cohen’s mouth finds mine, and perhaps it’s not the most appropriate kiss for a wedding ceremony in front of our parents, but I wrap my arms around his neck and Cohen lifts me into the air, kissing me passionately as though our lives depend on it.

“You’re my wife,” Cohen whispers once he sets me back down onto my high heels. “Finally.”

“And you’re my husband.” I’m beaming just saying the words out loud.

“We did it, Vi.” There are tears brimming the corners of his eyelids. “We really did it.”

***

Cohen had his Mustang polished up in preparation for this special day. It’s sitting in front of the town hall when we emerge, and the sight of it in all its shined-up glory brings on a sudden wave of nostalgia.

“Party time,” I laugh as he helps me into the passenger side of the car and closes the door for me.

Such a gentleman.

“Your parents will meet us over at the community hall, and my parents just had to run home first to grab Mom’s cellphone charger. You know she’ll freak out if she can’t use the camera on it every two seconds for the rest of the night.”

Cohen just chuckles as he climbs into the driver’s seat. He knows her too well, and he knows I’m right. “Hope you’ve got your perma-smile ready, Vienna Bradley.”

I look over at him, biting down on my bottom lip. “If you keep calling me that, I’ll keep smiling.”

He leans over, kissing me softly. “You’d better get used to it. You’re going to be using that name for as long as I can convince you to stay with me.”

My eyes narrow despite the lightheadedness I’m feeling from his lips on mine. “If that’s your way of saying forever, then I guess I’ll agree with you.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he replies, then grins like a fool.

“You ready for this?” I set my flowers on my lap and pull his hand into mine, running my thumb over his knuckles. Anything to touch his bare skin. “The party, I mean. All the people waiting for us.”

“We’ve just got to get through the next few hours, then we’ve got our whole life to be together, just the two of us.”

“The two of us, huh?” My stomach tightens at the mere thought of getting him out of that suit.

Cohen leans over again and presses his mouth against my ear. “I’ll even let you have my tie, Vi, to use however you see fit.”

His warm breath on my skin is sending a tingling sensation over my body, straight to the innermost parts of me. “That’s very, very intriguing, Mr. Bradley, and really good to know.” I pull my head back slightly to meet his gaze again. “But that’s not exactly what I meant.”

One eyebrow shoots up, and he searches my face for answers.

“I meant, what if it’s not just the two of us?”

“Why wouldn’t—”

I’m waiting for some typical Cohen-type answer involving possible threesomes, but he must recognize the seriousness in my expression, and the anticipation in my tone. “Wait,” he says. “Are you saying—”

“I’m saying I’m pregnant, Co.”

“You’re pregnant,” he repeats, like he can’t quite comprehend what that means. Then suddenly his brain must start processing information again because his eyes come alight with excitement and he exclaims, “You’re pregnant!” Cohen dives toward me, kissing me fiercely and hugging me to him. “Jesus, Vi, that’s incredible. Absolutely fucking incredible.”

I laugh, and he presses his forehead against mine, his chest heaving with the excitement coursing through him. “So, I take it you’re happy about this, then?”

“Happy? I’m goddamn ecstatic, baby!” He kisses me again. “How long have you known?”

“Only about a week. But you were going to figure it out tonight anyway when I turn down the first glass of wine offered to me.”

“Jesus,” he whispers, reaching down to place his large hand over my stomach. “We’re going to have a baby, Vi.”

“We are,” I assure him, unable to stop grinning. Cohen will be a good dad, a great dad, and that thought has me feeling more emotions than I know what to do with. “So, I guess it’ll be just the three of us from now on.”

“I kind of love the sound of that,” he tells me.

“I kind of do, too.” It’s my turn to kiss him. “We should get to that party, Cohen. You know, being the guests of honor and all.”

“We probably should.” But his hand doesn’t leave my tummy, and he makes no move to shift his weight back into the driver’s seat.

“The sooner we get through that, the sooner we can go to the real party,” I advise him, smirking devilishly.

“The real party?”

“Yeah, the one where we spend the rest of our lives showing each other just how much we kind of love each other, too.”

“Yeah,” Cohen agrees, his voice sounding wistful, like it’s a fairytale he’s only ever heard about. His eyes meet mine, glinting with adoration. “Just the three of us.”

God, I love this man. “Just the three of us,” I confirm. “Forever.”