Despite a home filled with friends and family, I had no doubt who was tapping on my door at midnight. I turned on a lamp and got out of bed. With a knowing smile, I tied my robe around my waist.

I answered to find Manning leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over a black t-shirt. “Don’t like knocking on my own bedroom door.”

“You can’t come in,” I said.

“I’m not above begging.” He looked me over. “Were you asleep?”

“Not even close.”

“I didn’t think so. Is it nerves?”

“No,” I whispered, stepping into him. I’d slept without him enough nights while away at school, so now that I’d graduated and lived full time in Big Bear, I didn’t want to sleep alone anymore. “I just want tomorrow to go well. Did you have a good time barbequing for everyone tonight?”

“Yeah. I don’t know how much rehearsing we did, but it’s nice to have us all in one place.”

“Did you ever think, when you built this place, that the bedrooms would one day be filled with people we love?”

“Can’t say that I did. I didn’t think of myself as such a lucky bastard.”

At tonight’s rehearsal dinner, I’d looked around a backyard filled with people I cared about. As my eyes had landed on Manning at the grill, I’d wondered—could he say the same? Henry, Manning’s only father figure, had made the trip with his entire family, and he’d brought Manning’s aunt along as well. Gary was also in town with his wife, Lydia. The absence of Manning’s parents and sister rarely affected us day to day, but this weekend, it would be unavoidable. Since it was my first time alone with him since that morning, I said, “I’m sorry your family couldn’t be here.”

He thumbed the hollow of my cheek. “My aunt came. Madison’s always with me some way or another.”

“But your parents—”

“Don’t mean anything to me anymore.”

I played with his shirt hem. “You were close with your mom before everything, though. I’m not saying she should’ve been here—I only wish things were different for you.”

“And I’m saying that I don’t wish a single thing was different.”

I smiled, fisting his t-shirt to bring him closer. “You are a lucky bastard,” I said, “just not tonight. I don’t think we’re supposed to be cavorting at all.”

“Hmm.” He sighed, rejected and dejected. “If only the wedding police weren’t a real thing.”

“Very funny,” I said. “I’d like to take this moment to remind you that you were the one who wanted a ‘traditional’ wedding. I would’ve been fine keeping it low-key, but you had to have a blessing from my dad, a rehearsal dinner, a bouquet and boutonniere, Blue as a ring bearer—”

“I never said anything about spending a night apart, though.”

“You don’t get to pick and choose which traditions you abide by,” I said, rising to the tips of my toes to kiss his cheek. “Enjoy a night to yourself in the guest room.”

I went to shut the door when Manning caught it with his hand. “Aren’t you the least bit curious as to why I’m here?”

“I know why you’re here,” I said, but the amused look on his face had me doubting myself.

“Give me some credit,” he said. “I can go without it for an evening. I did it four nights a week for years.”

“Not lately,” I reminded him. “Ever since we finalized the wedding plans, it’s as if you haven’t been physically capable of keeping your hands to yourself.”

“That’s ’cause picturing you in a wedding dress drives me insane.” He groaned, massaging the bridge of his nose, as if it actually pained him. “I can’t talk about this or I’ll break tradition and spoil our plans for tonight.”

“Plans?” I asked, checking the clock on the nightstand. “It’s after midnight on the day of our wedding.”

He tugged on the sash of my robe. “Throw on some jeans and tennis shoes, and meet me out front.”

“We can’t go anywhere,” I said. “We have a house full of guests.”

“They won’t even know we’re gone. Come on. Hurry up.”

“I’m the bride,” I said. “I need my beauty rest.”

He opened my robe. “You couldn’t get any more beautiful.”

The way his lids fell as he trailed a finger down the front of my nightie, I had a feeling if I didn’t agree to go out, we’d wind up staying in and sacrificing sleep anyway.

“All right,” I said, stopping his hand in its tracks. “You’d better head out front before we get ourselves in trouble.”

Alone, I flipped on the closet light to change. Truthfully, I was grateful for whatever Manning had planned. Before he’d knocked, I’d been staring at the ceiling, overthinking what we were about to do. Marrying Manning wouldn’t be hard—it was doing it in front of everybody we knew and loved that’d been keeping me up. My suggestion to go to City Hall had been genuine but perhaps one made out of fear. Up until January, he and I had lived in our own private bubble. We’d been spending time here and there with my family, but they’d only known as a couple seven months. It was as if we were all getting reacquainted.

As I left our bedroom and headed down a hallway of closed doors where my parents, Manning’s aunt, and some of my girlfriends slept, I couldn’t help worrying about standing up in front of all of them with a man no one thought I was supposed to end up with. Did they still have their doubts?

To Manning’s credit, except for a libido in overdrive, he’d been nothing but calm about the wedding since he’d proposed. He had no doubts. No nerves. If anything, he’d been working harder than usual to ensure all the details were taken care of. So when I found him waiting at the base of the porch steps with Blue, looking every inch a man in jeans and fishing boots, the porch swing’s floral printed cushions under one arm, any fears I had vanished. Tomorrow was about marrying the man I loved, a man both tough and sensitive, determined but attentive. It wasn’t about anything or anyone else but us.

“Why are you wearing galoshes?” I asked, taking his outstretched hand. I started for his truck but he pulled me around the side of the house, toward the back. “And what’re the cushions for?”

“Guess,” he said.

Manning and I had explored the woods behind the house plenty of times. Usually we went back there for two reasons—to walk Blue, or to go on the lake. Neither of those seemed like great after-dark activities. “I’m stumped,” I said.

As we crossed from our backyard into the woods, Manning kept me close with an arm around my shoulders. Blue darted through the trees but always sprinted back when we whistled for her. Perhaps if I’d been anywhere except the place I called home, I might’ve been spooked by the cover of darkness. By the rustling bushes, or the haunting hoots and flapping of wings echoing around us. Instead, I snuggled into the side of the man I knew would kill to protect me or die trying.

The closer we got to the edge of the forest, the more convinced I was that Manning had lost his mind and decided to recreate the night we’d snuck out of camp, gone for a drive, and wound up in the water.

The woods spit us out into a clearing that opened up to a tiny lake we’d come to know well. It was shallow, mostly off the map, and small enough for us to drift aimlessly. Manning kept the first dinghy he’d ever made there, tied to a stake in the ground. He’d built other boats—some he’d sold, and with help, a larger one we kept at one of Big Bear Lake’s marinas—but we had this little slice of heaven all to ourselves most of the time.

“We’re going on the lake?” I asked.

“Bingo,” he replied. “Go on. Climb on over the starboard side.” Manning winked before he added, “And into my lap.” It was the same thing he’d said to me my first night at the house in Big Bear, and he knew I loved the word, pronounced starbird.

No matter how endearing his invitation, I stayed where I was. We’d made love in this boat. I’d laughed until my sides had ached watching Manning try and fail to catch a fish with his hands. We’d drifted around in it on hot afternoons eating orange slices as the sun had set. But we’d certainly never taken it out at night.

Blue whined, probably sensing she was about to get left behind. “Blue and I are going to need a bit of an explanation before we proceed,” I said.

He squatted to untie the boat, and I heard the smile in his voice. “What’s wrong? Don’t trust me?”

“To steer this thing in the dark?”

“The stars are out.” He gestured up at the sky. “They’ll guide us, Birdy.”

“Actually,” I said, hands on my hips, “it’s a crescent moon and particularly dark tonight.”

“I know,” he said. “I wish I could say I planned it that way, but we just got lucky.”

Warily, I climbed over the starboard side and set up both cushions. Once I was seated at the bow, he pushed the boat through the weeds and waded in after it.

“Stay,” he told Blue.

She barked once to get her point across but plopped down at the edge of the lake, watching us go as she had many times before.

“Where are we headed?” I asked once Manning had climbed in.

“To the middle.” Slowly, he rowed us out on the water. As the night spread around us, complete stillness punctuated by occasional splashes and croaks, I began to wonder if the journey was the destination. Though Manning and I had planned a fairly low-key weekend for the wedding, there was no getting around the chaos that came with having friends and family in one place. Tiffany’s dress had needed last minute altering. Henry’s truck had broken down ten miles from the house. Our washing machine’s hose had begun leaking hours before guests had arrived. It’d been days, maybe even weeks, since I’d experienced this kind of stillness and peace.

“Okay, this was a good idea,” I admitted, shutting my eyes and relaxing against the back of the boat to enjoy the warm breeze.

“Yeah?” Manning asked. “How come?”

“It’s so easy to get caught up in the details of making sure tomorrow goes smoothly. I want to look back and remember everything. It’s good to slow down and take it all in.” Smiling, I opened my eyes. “Feel free to remind me of that throughout the weekend.”

“Traditionally,” Manning said, “I’m not supposed to see you most of tomorrow, either. At least not until we’ve said ‘I do.’”

I sighed. “I’m thinking I’ll be doing away with some of these silly rituals at my next wedding.”

“Your next wedding?” He dropped the paddles and stood, rocking the boat hard enough that I squealed and grabbed the sides. “Take that back.”

“Or what?” I teased.

“I tip this boat over. It’d serve you right for antagonizing the bears.”

In the dark, looming over me, he almost did look like a bear. “You wouldn’t,” I said.

“I might,” he said, “if we weren’t here.”

“Where’s here?”

“Middle of the lake. Best spot to see the show.” He reached for me. “Come.”

Taking his hand, I let him guide me forward to sit between his legs.

He enveloped me, hugging my back to his chest. “Look up.”

I relaxed against him, resting my arms on his as I scanned the countless stars. In the pitch black, they shone especially bright. “They’re beautiful,” I said.

“You know I’ll always move the stars for you if need be,” he said. “Whatever it takes.”

Though I appreciated the warmth behind his words, wasn’t it possible some fates couldn’t be rearranged? The vastness of the black sky and the sheer number of stars overhead made me feel small and insignificant—but not in a bad way. Did the universe have plans for us? Or had Manning and I really defined our own destiny? And what did either of those realities mean for our future?

It’d been many months since Manning and I had thrown out my birth control. Weeks since I’d had to stop making excuses not to get my wedding dress tailored. I supposed most women would’ve been happy not to walk down the aisle with a baby bump, but I’d almost planned on it. Manning wasn’t worried. When it came up, he reminded me we had time. That it would happen. I wished I had the confidence he did, but I hadn’t expected it to take this long.

Manning bent his mouth to my ear. “Lake?” he asked.

“Hmm?”

“Did you hear me?”

Whatever it takes. It occurred to me as we sat under the glittering stars that Manning would do anything in his power to move them in our favor—but what would it do to him if he couldn’t?

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

“No. I just want you to know I don’t take tomorrow lightly. My vows to love and care for you are a promise—always. No matter what comes our way.”

“I know,” I said.

“Open your hand.”

I flipped my palm up, and he put something small and cool in it. I lifted it to my face. “I haven’t seen this in months,” I said, admiring the mood ring. “Where’d you find it?”

“In your jewelry box. I thought you might want it for tomorrow.”

I slid it on, flexing my hand so we could both see it. “Madison would be standing up there with me if she were still alive,” I said.

“I know.” He held me a little more tightly, and we sat in silence until light streaked across the sky. “Look,” I said, pointing. “A shooting star.”

“Not quite,” he said.

The timing was almost too perfect. As more silver stars sliced the blackness over our heads, I sat up straighter. This really was a show. “What’s going on?” I asked.

“Moving stars.”

I glanced over my shoulder at him. “What?”

“The Perseid meteor shower. Happens every August.”

“The night before our wedding?” I asked.

“Technically, we’re getting married today.”

Hearing him say that, I got chills. By this time tomorrow night, Manning would be my husband. With happy tears in my eyes, I burrowed deeper into him as more and more meteors painted the sky. “Wait—is that why you insisted on this weekend when I suggested summer?” I asked.

He shrugged underneath me. “Once in a great while, we get the timing right.”

“You’re such a romantic.”

“Only for you,” he said, “but that’s no surprise to anyone.”

I twisted my head up to him. He kissed me slowly, deliberately, without spilling a drop of the overflowing love between us.

Above our heads, the sky moved and rearranged. It couldn’t have been a more perfect way to start forever together. Perhaps our timing had always been right, and like Manning, I needed to let go and trust that in the end, we’d get everything we were supposed to.