“Olivia! Hurry up, we are going to be late,” Kate yelled from outside my bedroom door. “And in the ten years I’ve known you, you’ve never been late!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” I yelled back and stood to take one more look in the mirror. My hair fell down my back in pretty curls. The lace bodice of my dress was low-cut, just like Jameson liked, but not too revealing. The chiffon skirt hung straight down from the waist, the fabric skimming the floor, the toes of my red shoes peeking out from under the dress.

I wanted to look perfect. After Jake died, I had let any dreams and ideas of a wedding go out the window. I had never imagined my dress or the venue or the cake. There wasn’t going to be a big reception or ceremony with hundreds of people, and there would be no cake and no dancing, just us and a handful of people at the courthouse, but I still wanted this day to be perfection. I brushed some gloss over my red-stained lips and opened the door.

“Oh my God,” Kate gushed. “You look stunning.”

“You think he’ll like it?” I had debated about wearing white, but eventually had settled on a silver-colored dress instead.

“The man would like it if you wore a flour sack,” Kate snorted. “Of course he’ll like it … he’ll love it. Now can we go. We are supposed to be at the courthouse in twenty minutes. If there is any traffic, we’ll never make it!”

I grabbed the rest of my things and followed her out the door where a car was waiting for us on the curb.

Of course, there was traffic … this was New York City. Despite our driver’s best efforts, we were fifteen minutes late. Bev stood at the door watching for us, and she hurried down the steps when she saw me getting out of the car.

“Jameson is freaking out,” she said. “He thinks you’re not coming.”

“He’s being ridiculous … there was just traffic.” I paused outside the room everyone was waiting in, and Bev handed me a small bouquet of purple calla lilies. I waved Kate and Bev in ahead of me.

“Go, I’ll be in in just a second,” I said.

“You’re not going to leave, are you?” Kate asked.

“Why does everyone think I’m going to run away?!” I asked. “No, I’m not leaving, I just need a second.”

“Okay,” she said apprehensively. “You have one minute, and then I’m coming back out to get you.”

I watched the door close behind her, and then took two deep breaths. It had been eight months since Jameson’s pseudo-proposal on the floor in my office. Three weeks later he surprised me with a beautiful 3-carat cushion-cut diamond in a halo and rose gold setting from Tiffany’s at the new office space he found for us. Even though I knew I loved Jameson, I had to think seriously about marriage and if we could make it work. At that point, we still fought, a lot, and even though it almost always ended in smoking hot sex, I wasn’t sure if eventually the sex part would wear off and we’d just be left with the fighting. So far, things had been amazing.

It had taken me a few months, but now I knew without a doubt I was making the right decision. I knew I wanted to be with him. He had been the one to finally convince me to let go of Jake, to put the past behind me once and for all, accept what had happened and move on. He’d wound his way into my heart and put the pieces back together.

I took one more breath, and then opened the door. Jameson was standing at the front of the small room, his hands in his pockets, staring at the floor. He looked nervous, and I couldn’t help but smile. Jameson Beck, ruthless defense attorney, was nervous.

There were only a few people in the room. Kate and Bev were on one side. Reggie and Drew were on the other. But they all disappeared into the background when Jameson looked up and our eyes locked. The concern on Jameson’s face immediately melted, and he broke into a smile. He crossed the room in a few easy steps and took my hands.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” he whispered and planted a soft kiss on my lips.

“I don’t know why you would think that,” I said, kissing him again. “I’m not a quitter, Jameson Beck.”

“Oh, I know.” He smirked, giving me one final kiss before he pulled away and looked me up and down. “You look perfect.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” I smiled. Jameson was one of those men who looked like they belonged in a suit, and this one fit particularly well. “Are you ready?”

“I’ve been ready for eight months.” Jameson had wanted to get married sooner. Days after he’d given me the ring, he’d started pestering me to set a date, but I had made him wait, something he hadn’t let me forget. “It was worth the wait.”

I leaned up and kissed him again.

“I’m ready now, too.”