Dawn’s fingers hover around my head. I feel her push a bobby pin, and the whole crown of wildflowers that I’m wearing shifts a little bit.

“There,” she breathes. “Perfect. You look beautiful, honey.”

I lift my hands up and feel the flowers.

“Don’t touch!” Dawn says, with a little laugh.

I move my hands to my waist, shifting my nervous energy away from the crown to smoothing the flowing white fabric of my gown instead.

From the corner of my eye, I see my father approach.

“Are you ready, Frank?” Dawn asks my dad. She’s become a sort of unofficial wedding coordinator over the past few months, since Jabir proposed to me with my great-great grandmother’s vintage sapphire ring.

“I think so,” my dad says. Dawn steps away, to give us a moment of privacy or to attend to some urgent detail, I’m not sure. All I know is that my heart is beating fast, and I feel as nervous as a kid on the first day of school.

“You look beautiful,” my dad says, echoing Dawn’s words. Now they’ve both said it, so it must be true! I manage a smile.

“Like a princess,” he adds. Is that a shimmer of tears in his eyes? The ceremony hasn’t even started yet!

“Are my flowers straight?” I ask. “Dawn said not to touch them.”

He nods, and then wipes a tear away.

“Dad!” I say. “You’re going to make me cry.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “It’s just… I know I’m supposed to be ‘giving you away,’ but honey, I want you to know. You are your own person. You always have been. Your one of the wisest people I know. I’m not ‘giving you away’, sweetie. But I am honored to walk down the aisle with you.”

I know I’m at risk of crumpling my flowers, but I can’t help it. I wrap my arms around my dad and hug him hard. I feel the first inkling of tears about to spring up, but thankfully, just then, I hear the sound of a violin, playing the melody we’ve chosen for my entrance.

I part from my dad and take a deep breath. This is it!

Sue Jackson’s music floats through the treetops, mingling in the crisp autumn air. Her only accompaniment is little chirping birds, and the sound is as full and sweet as the forest were gathered in.

I see Dawn waving my father and I forward, between two towering oaks. My father loops his elbow through mine.

And we’re walking. He’s guiding me along the short path, through the trees. We enter a clearing, and I see a two dozen chairs, each decorated with sunflowers and dahlias and filled with our guests. The chairs are facing forward, but the guests have turned to look for me. I catch sight of Pete Dawson, Amanda, Janine and her family, Marge and Jim, Hassan, Sirah with her son Jamal on her lap, and finally Jabir’s parents and my own.

The chairs are parted in the middle by an aisle strewn with yellow flower petals. At the end of the aisle, Uncle Joe, who is a Justice of the Peace, is standing facing me. On his right is my son, positioned in a carriage that’s draped in gold and bright yellow.

To Uncle Joe’s left, I see Jabir. He’s looking straight at me. I look into his eyes as I walk, and with each step I feel that I’m floating closer and closer to the inevitable.

From the moment I met Jabir in the dining room of the Mountain Laurel, a part of me knew about this, too. Our whole journey together has been one of falling closer and closer to this moment, here in the forest. The moment that the three of us become a family.

And I know that this is just the beginning.

I walk closer and closer to the love of my life, and when I reach him, his eyes hold mine. I wait for his smile, but he looks too nervous for that. He’s solemn, and maybe even a little bit scared.

That’s okay. I am too.

Behind his nerves, I see the glimmer of adventure and excitement in his eyes, and I know that all is well. I glance down to my son and see that he’s awake and alert, a soft smile gracing his little lips.

My uncle leads us in saying our vows. Jabir and I each wrote our own, and when he says his the tears I’ve been holding back start to stream forward. He starts crying too, and when we are finally instructed to kiss each other, I taste salt on his lips.

Uncle Joe raises his hands. “I now pronounce you husband and wife!”

Sue starts up an upbeat tune, and Jabir reaches out and kisses me again. When he pulls away, he grins. His grin spreads and spreads until it becomes that carefree smile that I love so much.

I scoop Anwar out of his carriage and hold him to my chest while Jabir kisses him, too.

My mother gives an ecstatic sing-song whoop and I hear a few other hollers and whistles from our friends and family as well. The Abdullahs brought bells with them, as is tradition for weddings in Dalai, and the jingling sound adds to the celebratory air.

Soon, we’re being hugged from all sides. Janine squeezes my hands and spins me around in a circle and then hugs Jabir; Dawn and Neville blush with happiness; Jabir’s parents welcome me into the family with warm kisses on each cheek.

For the wedding reception, the whole party is moved to the Mountain Laurel. Because it’s September, and the temperature drops at night, Dawn’s arranged for a tent in the backyard, complete with heaters and everything. Little white lights are strung up around the edges and across the ceiling.

Jabir and I decided on an eclectic mix of Middle Eastern music and bluegrass. The food doesn’t shy away from our differences, either—some dishes are from Dalai, and others have been in my family for generations.

Over the next few hours, I dance until my legs can’t move any more, and smile so much that my cheeks become sore.

The sun sets, and the stars come out.

I’m so blissful, that I don’t want the evening to come to an end. But when I collapse back into my chair after an upbeat song and Jabir gives me a look, I know exactly what he’s thinking.

“Is it time?” I ask.

“They’ll be okay without us,” he says, speaking low so that the guests around us can’t hear. I look around for our son. He’s been sleeping soundly for hours, with little noise-canceling headphones over his tiny ears. Jabir’s sister-in-law is gently rocking the carrier that he’s in, while talking to her husband.

“Sirah and Hassan don’t mind?” I ask.

“They were thrilled when I asked,” Jabir says, standing. He offers me a hand. “Let’s say some quick goodbyes, hmm?”

I think both of us intend to give our goodbyes one by one, without causing a fuss, but Dawn has another idea.

She must have seen us getting ready to go, because all of a sudden I hear her voice float over the speakers. “Get your sparklers ready!” she announces.

Instead of slipping out without a fuss, Jabir and I watch as all of our guests line up and light sparklers. Laughter rings through the air as one by one, sizzling white balls of sparks light up the night. The guests hold them up high, forming a little archway for us to exit through.

Jabir takes my hand, and I gather my dress with my free hand. My shoes have been tossed by the wayside hours earlier, and as we start to run, the grass feels cool between my toes.

We’re breathless when we reach the inn’s back patio. I turn and wave goodbye, and Jabir does the same before lifting me up over a little wall that surrounds the patio. We burst through the inn’s doors, still breathless. Then, Jabir scoops me up in his arms.

“What are you doing?” I ask, laughing.

“Carrying you to our hotel room,” he says.

“Do you know which one it is?” I ask playfully.

“No!” he says, starting his climb up the stairs. I wrap my arm around his neck to help him balance, and offer my instructions.

“She gave us the yellow room. You don’t have far to go!”

“Oh, you think I can’t carry you far? I could carry you to Dalai and back.”

“Across the ocean? I had no idea you could walk on water.”

“We would swim,” Jabir counters. “I’d carry you on my back.”

“This one!” I shout, and soon Jabir’s walking into the yellow room, where he deposits me on the bed. I lie back, breathless from our laughter. Jabir, who has been laughing too, turns silent. He’s looking down at me, his whole face serious all of a sudden, almost pained.

“How did I get so lucky?” he says quietly.

“You followed your heart,” I whisper back.

“I’m glad that I did.” He lowers himself onto the bed, on top of me, slowly. I feel him gently remove the flowers from my hair. He sets my crown on the nightstand beside us. My whole body feels alive with anticipation. When he kisses me, I melt into the sensation of his lips on mine. He is the husband, the father of my child, the man of my dreams. I want to give him all of me, many times over.

After we make love, I lie in his arms. We’re both exhausted but too excited to sleep. So I close my eyes and feel the sensation of Jabir’s hands, trailing through my hair.

“I think Anwar will have a good time with my brother and Sirah,” Jabir says. “Jamal is sweet with him… He treats him like a little brother.”

I smile, my eyes still closed. I feel Jabir’s hands travel down my cheek, and brush against my lips. “Are you happy?” he asks.

“Very,” I say. I find his hand with mind and wrap my fingers so they’re intertwined with his. I open my eyes and see Jabir gazing down at me. “Can we paint Anwar’s room yellow? In the new apartment?” I ask.

After our honeymoon to Dalai, our small family will move into one of the new units at the “Sunshine Apartments” that have recently been completed. One day, we plan on getting a house, but for now the apartments feel like the right place for us. We’ll always have the cottage for weekends, and I find that I’m excited about the change.

Jabir nods. “Whatever color you want,” he says.

“Pale yellow,” I say dreamily. “With a mural of the sun rising. What do you think?”

“Perfect,” Jabir says. “We’ll have a lot of choices to make, when we get back from Dalai, won’t we?”

“Yes.” Instead of feeling overwhelmed by our move, I feel excited for the adventure ahead of us, as a family. “Is that what you’ve been working on lately? On your computer?”

“What, interior design? No, this was a different project.” He shifts in the bed, and I lift my head up off of his chest so that he can move. “Design, yes. But of a different sort.”

He dips down low over the bed and I see him stretching and reaching for a black carry-on bag that someone’s kindly placed in the room for us. He unzips the front pocket, pulls out a folder, and returns to the bed. “Here, I brought it so that I could show you.”

“What is it?” I ask, sitting up along with him. He wraps his arm around me and then lays the folder in our laps, among a pooling of sheets.

“This is the newest Canarra car,” he says. “I’ve been working on the design for about a year, but over the last few weeks it really came together.”

He opens the folder up and I see a color picture of a beautiful, pearly white sports car. It’s similar to his, but slightly higher up off of the ground. A soaring eagle in front of the hood proudly marks the car as a Canarra make. The shape is sleek and powerful, and I can’t take my eyes off of it.

“I’m calling it the Teresa,” Jabir says. “And guess who will get the very first model?”

I turn so that I’m facing him. “Who?” I ask, though I’m already guessing the answer.

“You!” he says, wrapping me in a hug.

It feels so good to be held by him. I close my eyes, imagining what my future might be like. I know that I’ll have to get used to surprises like this one. I stepped out onto a tightrope months ago, and now I’ve reached the other side, it feels like I’m inhibiting a whole new world.

Safe in Jabir’s arms, I know that I don’t have to be scared. This new world is filled with nothing but happy adventures.