Everyone said your wedding day was supposed to be the most relaxing day of your life, but tell that to the nerves swimming in my stomach and threatening to make me break down any minute now.

But there was no denying that coupled with the nerves was a growing anticipation for this. The wedding day. My wedding day, aka the day I was going to tie the knot with one very special man. It was the kind of anticipation that was sweet and steady, growing between us as time passed and we grew closer planning it out.

I clung on to this anticipation as I woke up on that day, which didn’t start out good, particularly with the splitting headache I experienced. It was partly my fault, really, because I was too busy tossing and turning in bed and thinking about what was coming to really get enough sleep in. But I weathered through it and slid out of bed quickly, stumbling to the bathroom to get some aspirin and a long, thorough shower. By the time I got out, my mother was already knocking on my door and bringing in a tray filled with the makings of a heavy Southern breakfast.

“I don’t think I can keep anything down right now,” I warned her as I sat back on the edge of the bed.

“Good morning to you, too,” she greeted with a smile on her face. Over the days, as Peter kept visiting, she began to soften up towards him and now really liked him and approved of the union. That was one less thing to worry about. “You need to eat because it’s going to be a long day, and you need to keep your strength up. No arguments.”

The scent of the food wafted up my nostrils, and whatever protest I had, died off instantly. I grinned at her and gave her a hug, then settled on the bed again and started eating the food slowly. Mom talked about how my brother was going to be in town in less than an hour and how my nieces and nephews were excited to see me.

“And Sara just got in late last night,” she said. “She already settled Gary and the kids in the hotel at Little Stone, but she said she’ll be here right after their breakfast—”

“I’m already here,” a voice announced from the doorway. I looked up and found none other than Sara herself, holding her arms out in the air and grinning from ear to ear. She’d always been the bubbly one in our family, and excitement surged in me at the sight of her. I set the tray to the side and got out of bed, watching as she hugged mom. Then we hugged each other, and I smelled the kids’ powder scent from her and started giggling like mad.

“Wow, she’s nervous,” Sara commented, easing me away and eyeing me critically. “And she looks nervous. But absolutely blooming. Doesn’t she look blooming, mom?”

“She sure does,” Mom agreed.

I laughed again and went down with them to the kitchen, where I found the island already filled with baked goods. My mom baked when she was excited, so that showed her feelings exactly. After a while, my dad was there, and I was pretty happy and content to be with my whole family again, just like old times.

Then my brother Jay was there, and the house just got louder than ever. He began demanding to see Peter right away for some “manly” talk, but mom and Sara just distracted him so that we could get ready. Before we knew it, we were riding over to Little Stone, bringing all that we needed and settling in to the same hotel that Sara’s husband and kids were in. It was only a block away from the church, and a few blocks away from Peter’s house, which made it the perfect location.

Isla and her aunts were already there by the time we checked in, along with the wedding coordinator and her team. Everyone got acquainted before they all settled me in a chair and got me in a robe. Then hair and makeup began, with the bridesmaids and flower girls going first. While watching, I was given a gentle massage and tea, and bit by bit the nerves eased out of me as I started to enjoy the ritual. Isla was bouncing and unable to keep still as she met my nieces and nephews and chatted with them, and I could already tell that they were going to get along. My parents already met Isla when Peter brought her to their house once, and as expected, they’d been charmed by her and now already treated her like family. My dad, in particular, liked to talk about his days running around and playing ball when he was a kid, as well as fishing. I could see the way Isla’s blue eyes lit up whenever fishing was mentioned, and I had to hide my smile as I realized she was developing yet another interest.

By the time her hair was done, Isla was insisting to call my dad grandpa, and my dad didn’t seem to mind at all.

Then it was my turn, and I specified that I wanted to keep it light. The makeup artist was kind and cheerful, and she cajoled me to relax and stop thinking too much. I followed her advice and closed my eyes, lulled by the sound of the hair blower running and the clutter of makeup on the counter beside my chair. My sister was humming something pleasant beside me while getting herself ready, and I could hear Isla’s and my dad’s distant chatter before Isla was ushered to get dressed, too.

When my makeup and hair were done, I was told not to look in the mirror yet but to get dressed right away. Everyone surrounded me in a flurry and began to help me out, but Sara shooed them off and firmly told them it was her task as matron of honor to help me with the dress. I stifled a laugh, knowing she just wanted first dibs on how I looked. I didn’t care, though.

Soon, I found myself on heels and in the dress that Isla and I fitted just a week ago. It had been pretty loose when we fitted it, which meant I lost some weight in the wedding planning process. Now it fit me perfectly, and I looked down admiringly at the details of the ivory-colored gown. Crystal beads winked subtly up at me. I smoothed the dress down, suddenly nervous all over again.

What if it looked bad? What if it looked worse than last week?

What if Peter didn’t like it?

“How do I look?” I asked Sara, who was frowning while arranging the neckline.

“Hold up,” she said, concentrating on her task. When she was finally done, she took a step back and eyed me from head to toe. Sara was always critical when it came to fashion, and when we were younger, she was always blunt when she hated something I wore or when she thought something suited me better.

She smiled—a brilliant, proud smile as she placed her hands over her mouth.

“You look absolutely radiant,” she gushed. “Mom! Mom, come look.”

The door that Sara closed earlier opened, and my mom and Isla rushed in again. Mom’s eyes widened and so did Isla’s. Then they both began talking all at once, and Isla hobbled over to the bed and began to eye me in amazement.

“You look like a fairy tale princess!” she exclaimed. “I can’t wait for you to be my mom so I can be a princess, too!”

“You look beautiful, my dear,” my mom said, tears glistening in her eyes. Sara noticed it right off and scolded her not to ruin her makeup, then helped her out with some tissues.

Now curiosity got the better of me, and I slipped to the area where there was a full-length mirror, wanting to see myself. If they thought it looked good, then it must be good, right? Reaching the mirror, I stepped forward quickly.

I gasped at what I saw.

The dress fit me perfectly this time—a mixture of white lace and crystals, one that started off my shoulder and fit me to the waist, then flowed into a long skirt to cover my legs. White lace covered my arms like dainty sleeves, and the train at the back of my skirt flowed long.

I did look like a princess.

My hair and makeup were just as perfect for me. My hair was pulled up in an elegant chignon-type braid, curly tendrils tamed. The makeup and hair artist put in little crystal beads that made it twinkle subtly whenever I moved my head. My makeup was light, touches of gold and pink that was barely there. All I knew was that my face looked glowing.

I was glowing.

I had been wary at first when the wedding planner showed me the gown she had in mind, because I’d wanted to just wear a plain white dress and be done with it. The one she’d chosen was classy and elegant without looking extravagant, and I realized now that the look fit me well. My heels made me look slightly taller than I was, and the overall effect was just…magic.

I was in awe and wanted to admire the details of what I was wearing all day—but it was time to leave. When everything was done, Sara ushered me to the bridal car, where she accompanied me and held my hand. She tried to keep a steady conversation going, but I was so distracted that I could barely answer. But she pushed on, squeezing my hand from time to time and telling me that everything was going to be alright and not to worry. I nodded my head and squeezed her hand back, grateful that I’d chosen her to be the first person at my side.

We got to church in no less than two minutes, and I was ushered to the side so I wouldn’t see the guests and vice versa. I was pretty sure Peter was already inside, and the thought of him had something fluttering in my stomach. I banked it down and watched as Isla hobbled over towards me, her fingers touching the beads in wonder.

“Can I also wear this on my wedding?” she asked, seriously.

I was pretty sure Peter would have a fit just thinking about Isla getting married to some guy, considering how protective he was. I stifled a laugh and patted her hair, then bent over to give her a hug. She protested that she was crushing my gown, but I didn’t mind.

“You can wear this when you get married…when you’re way older,” I said.

She giggled. I watched everyone get ready, the wedding planner calling out everyone’s positions. Then the music came on, a gentle piano melody that both Peter and I had chosen. The march started, and I waited in anticipation beside my father, who was eyeing me quietly.

“You okay there, sweetheart?”

I gave him the thumbs up sign. “Yes. Dad?”

“Hmm?”

“Was it as nerve-wrecking for mom when it was her wedding?”

He nodded. “I’m pretty sure it was. It’s the bride’s special day, and I’m sure she was a mixture of anxiety and excitement. She was also very beautiful.”

The tone in his voice had me smiling. I looked up at him. “How about you? Were you nervous?”

“I was more nervous than your mother,” he admitted. “I was the wreck because I couldn’t keep still. And then she came out, and all I could see was her.”

It was the sweetest thing ever, and I grinned at him. “You? Really?”

“Yep. I’m pretty sure Peter isn’t any different.”

I scoffed. “It’s his second wedding.”

“Honey, it doesn’t matter. What matters is his love for the bride. Trust me. He’s going to be a wreck, too.”

I almost bit my lip, then realized it was going to ruin my lipstick. So I held on to my dad and waited until Sara winked at me and moved forward. Then the music changed, and I heard feet scuffling as everyone stood up. Dad placed my hand on his elbow and squeezed it.

“Showtime,” he murmured.

I took a deep breath. Then I walked in there and gripped on to my dad’s elbow and the bouquet in my hand—a mix of roses and poppies in shades of old rose, deep purple, and white. The faces were a blur of those I recognized and didn’t recognize, and I just kept walking and told myself to keep my back straight, to not let my nerves show, to not stumble and make a fool of myself, and to stop being so worried about everything.

Halfway down the aisle, I was finally able to see to the front, where Peter’s best man was—a man named Michael, who was a good friend of his in the Navy. Then Peter was there, wearing a black tuxedo and looking so breathlessly handsome that I felt something inside me still at the sight. His blue eyes bored into mine, and while I also saw nerves there, it gave way to awe. It was as if he was quietly saying: you are beautiful. You are so beautiful, and you are mine.

Yes, I was going to be his. And he was going to be mine.

And just like that, the nerves slowly melted away. Our gazes never broke, even as he stepped forward and my father handed me over to him. He took my hand in his now, and the warmth of it steadied me as we stood in front of the priest who started the ceremony. We exchanged vows solemnly, and I realized I meant every word I said. He was sincere, too, especially in the part about how he was going to take care of me and be my other half through thick and thin. It made me feel things, so many things, and I thought I might be really falling in love with him.

We slipped the rings on each other’s fingers, and I marveled at how simple but beautiful mine was—a gold band with tiny diamond stones in the middle. Then the priest was pronouncing that we were husband and wife, and my veil was being lifted to show my face, and—

Peter leaned forward to press his mouth against mine—a touch that started off gentle before he pressed more firmly. I opened my mouth a bit to feel the kiss, and it was unlike any of the other kisses I had with other boys. While those were too rough and too eager, verging on sloppy, this was…slow. Innocent. Except it wasn’t that innocent, because I could feel the heat underneath, threatening to come out at the right place.

At the right time.

Peter’s hand settled on my chin, his thumb rubbing my cheek. He was savoring the kiss, and I wanted to give him more and taste more. His taste intoxicated me, and it was barely even a kiss.

Dimly, I heard the applause from the crowd. Peter lingered over the kiss for a few more seconds before breaking it, his blue eyes focused on mine. Then we both faced the applause, and I watched the grin on everyone’s faces as they celebrated the wedding with us. Belatedly, Peter and I called Isla over, who hobbled excitedly and hugged her father tight. Then she hugged me and called me mom, and my heart just warmed all the more.

I felt like I was on top of the world, and I wouldn’t change it for anything.

Perhaps this was the happiest day of my life.