On the morning of October twenty-fifth, Summer assisted Willow in donning her wedding dress: buttoning up the back, deftly sliding her fingers across the soft fabric. Willow sighed at herself in the mirror, watching as Summer’s head bobbed around her back, her brown locks shining in the sunlight. She’d had to pinch herself continuously since returning to Rebai—with Summer herself on the airplane with them.

This was reality. She was getting married—for real!

Summer finished with the last button and straightened up, smoothing her own deep purple gown. It featured an off-the-shoulder neckline and a trumpet skirt, and she looked positively gorgeous, her curves accentuated in all the right places.

“I can’t imagine you’ll leave Rebai without a boyfriend, or at least several hundred offers,” Willow said, laughing.

“Don’t. You’re the blushing bride, here. I’m just the maid of honor,” Summer giggled. “Come on. We only have—what? Twenty-five minutes before the ceremony!”

Willow leaned against a marble pillar in the small preparation room. Sunlight streamed in through the window, the gorgeous city visible in the distance. The previous few days, Willow and Summer had raced through the streets, enjoying the fabric of the place: the bustling marketplaces, the scrumptious street food, the tiny dive bars, and the friendly, helpful nature of the people.

“Even more friendly than Texans!” Summer had said, amazed. “But don’t tell Texans that.”

Just the day before, Willow’s parents had arrived from Houston and taken up a room within the palace. They were wide-eyed, with nervous smiles and not a small number of fears.

“You’re going to live in Houston, aren’t you, Willow?” her mother had asked several times, as if she were convinced her daughter would move across the globe and never come back.

“Of course we are, Mom,” Willow had said. “Rebai is beautiful, and we’ll spend some time here throughout the year. But Ibrahim’s business is in Houston. And with everything going on with the fundraising, I can’t imagine being anywhere else but Texas.”

“I’m so happy, my love.” These were the last words Ibrahim had told her the night before, after the rehearsal dinner. Then, he’d kissed the top of her head and stepped off with a few of his friends from childhood and work, staying at the penthouse hotel, sipping whiskey, and talking of old times.

“We won’t be having a typical bachelor’s party, you can be sure of that,” he’d promised. “Those days are through.”

Now, suddenly, Willow and Summer heard the organist begin to play. Summer squeezed Willow’s hand.

“I’ve imagined this day my entire life,” Summer said. “The day I’d be there beside you as you married your other best friend.”

“He could never replace you,” Willow said. “Nobody can match me taco for taco like you. Or sit through more romantic comedies than any sane person should watch in a day. Or countless other things that only you can do.”

“Good,” Summer grinned, sniffling. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Moments later, Willow walked into the foyer area, where the large wooden doors of the ceremony room were wide open. There, at the end of the pathway, was Ibrahim. He wore a tuxedo, his shoulders broad and his hands clasped over his stomach. His dark hair shone beneath the lights.

He glanced around nervously, having not yet spotted the bride. Willow reached up and adjusted her heirloom tiara, grateful that Summer had assisted her in positioning it on her blond curls.

“Are you ready?”

Willow’s father, Bill, had appeared in his tuxedo beside her. His eyes were tinged red—had he been crying?

“Are you?” Willow asked.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to give my little girl away,” Bill said, his voice cracking.

“Oh, Dad.” Willow hugged her father, and she was filled with a mix of emotions. Excitement for her wedding day, but sadness for the fact that she couldn’t go back twenty years and be a young girl again, playing with Paul and her father in the yard.

Drawing back from him, she felt tears spring to her eyes. “I just miss him so much,” she finally said.

“He’s here, honey,” Bill said. “Paul is looking down on you. And he approves of Ibrahim, that’s for sure. How could he not? That man loves you more than life itself.”

The organ music started up, and Bill began to walk Willow down the aisle. Willow’s legs were unsteady beneath her, shaking slightly as she moved. But she kept her smile sure, firm. When she was halfway down the aisle, she brought her eyes toward Ibrahim’s and held his gaze the rest of the way, knowing only he could light her way home.

When she reached her husband-to-be, Willow glanced to the left, finding Summer beside her. She passed her bouquet to her maid of honor and felt her father’s final kiss on her cheek, giving her his blessing. Time seemed to be passing far too swiftly, with a flurry of colors bright and swirling around her.

As she joined Ibrahim, she gripped his hands and watched as his smile dropped and his face grew serious. This commitment was a big step, sealing their future.

As the organ fell and silence took its place, Amira stepped forward. Her long dress swirled around her, her hair wrapped in a vibrant scarf, leaving space for her dark eyes to peek out. She stood behind the bride and groom, facing the crowd. With a voice fit for any queen, she called out over their heads.

“I want to announce my blessing over these young people,” she said. “I wish them nothing but happiness in the years ahead. Happiness and love and peace.

“As you all know, Ibrahim’s father and brother, along with Willow’s brother, Paul, couldn’t be here today. And yet we feel them now, looking down on us from heaven and smiling with us for this special day.”

As Amira finished her speech, Willow was overcome with emotion. Stepping forward, she hugged her mother-in-law close, whispering into her ear, “You have given us so much. I only hope we can return it.”

Amira left the stage, then, leaving them to say their vows before the minister. Ibrahim gripped Willow’s hands tightly, gazing into her eyes. Willow felt butterflies in her stomach as she mentally prepared herself for what was to come.

They’d written their vows separately. Willow had been panicked about hers for weeks, formulating endless drafts. She knew that with Ibrahim’s charm, stellar public speaking abilities and complete adoration for her, his vow would completely trump hers, but she was also sure that it would make her love him all the more.

“Willow,” he began, his voice booming out over the crowd. “I remember the first time I ever laid eyes on you.”

Willow pulled a face at the memory: she’d been sweating and frazzled, at the finish line of a marathon—in no shape to meet a sheikh. Little did she know, then, that she was meeting her future husband, the love of her life.

“You were sweaty and exhausted, with your hair whipped back and your breath coming in bursts. I knew you were fit, just from reading about you in the paper, but even I couldn’t believe how strong you looked after twenty-six miles,” Ibrahim continued.

“You looked like you could run another twenty-six miles, if you put your heart into it. And that’s been kind of standard, since knowing you. Once you put your heart into something, you really go for it. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. I adore you, Willow, and I think you are perfect. Thank you for making me see another side to life—one where I can spend the rest of it with you.”

Willow sniffled, feeling tears begin to cascade down her cheeks. She willed them to stop, not wanting her mascara to run. Clearing her throat, she reached over to take the small piece of paper from Summer, then launched into her own vow:

“Ibrahim, I never imagined I’d marry someone like you. A sheikh, one of the most powerful and handsome men in the world. But at the end of the day, that’s not all you are. You’re a kind and compassionate partner, who inspires me every day as we face the world, side by side and head-on, making it a better place. You’re my perfect partner in all things. I love you.”

Seconds later, the minister blessed them, pronouncing them husband and wife. Ibrahim and Willow kissed passionately, with Ibrahim gripping her tightly at the waist. She pressed her body against his, never wanting to let go: and knowing, for the first time, that she didn’t have to.

They walked hand in hand down the aisle, waving giddily at their friends and relatives. Willow blew kisses to her father and mother, along with the three chairs that had been set aside for Ibrahim’s father and brother, and Paul. When they reached the end of the aisle, they raced to the bright red sports car awaiting them outside, its engine already running.

Ibrahim helped Willow into the passenger seat, tucking her gown around her, allowing her veil to flow behind. He dove into the driver’s seat, and they gave final, excited waves toward their guests, who had begun to flow out from the palace.

“We really did it!” Ibrahim cheered. “We’re married, my love.”

Unable to resist him, Willow leaned in and slid her hand along his cheeks, feeling the stubble begin to creep in. She kissed him deeply, unable to find the right words to translate her emotions. She couldn’t believe it had actually happened. They were on the other side of the main event.

Now, they had the rest of their lives to live.

When their kiss broke, Ibrahim stabbed his foot on the gas pedal and sped them out toward the coastline, where a large tent had been set up for their reception party. An enormous cake was already in pride of place, with figurines of a tall, dark-haired man and a petite blond woman pegged on top, holding one another tightly.

The bride and groom, along with their guests, danced and sang and ate and drank far into the night, until the few dozen of them who had made it till midnight walked along the sand, gazing out at the moonlight over the waves.

Everyone agreed it was the greatest party of their lives—one of the most vibrant and memorable in all of Rebaian history. And it carried on long into the early morning, hours after Willow and Ibrahim had snuck back to their newly-purchased penthouse apartment to make love, safe in the knowledge that they were each other’s, always.