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“Is your mascara waterproof?” My mom squints as she stares into my eyes. “I have a tissue in my bra if you need it.”

“I’ll pass.” I smile. “I won’t cry, mom. I’ll be fine.”

Her hand dives down the front of her dress. “Every bride sheds a tear on her wedding day.”

I halt her movement with a hand on her cheek. “I don’t need the tissue. I promise I’ll be all right.”

She sighs. “I need to take my seat. If you start crying during the ceremony, the tissues come out.”

“I love you, Mom.”

“Oh, Afton,” she says, wrapping me in a tight embrace. “I have loved you since the moment you were born. You deserve this day and all the happiness that comes your way in the future.”

“Let’s go, Mrs. Neal.” Warren’s cousin, Leroy, offers his arm to my mom. “I’ll show you to your seat.”

“Cherish every moment of today,” my mom whispers. “You’ll look back on this for the rest of your life.”

I clutch my bouquet tightly in both hands to mask how badly I’m shaking.

As my mom walks away with Leroy, Joel makes his way to me.

“I still don’t see a smile.” He reaches for my shoulders. “Bridal, not burial, remember?”

I manage a slight grin. “I remember.”

He looks toward the sanctuary. “They wanted to sit Nelson on the groom’s side to try and even out the crowd, but he told them no way.”

I laugh. “Even out the crowd?”

“Warren is not Mr. Popular.” Joel winks. “I’m as surprised by that as he is.”

Warren doesn’t have a lot of friends. He divides his time between his work and me. He does fit in Sunday dinners with his parents twice a month. I’m invited to those once a month.

“You’re going to kill those poor flowers.” Joel’s gaze drops to the bouquet in my hands. “You’re strangling them.”

I loosen my grip on the purple hydrangeas. “I’m shaking.”

He takes me into his arms. “Focus on Warren’s face. Pretend it’s just you two, and you’ll do great.”

“We should have had a rehearsal.”

His head tilts to the side. “It was your idea to skip that detail.”

He’s right. I did forgo the run-through that the wedding planner insisted on. I didn’t see the point since the ceremony is simple, and Warren had to work late every night this week, including last night.

He’s rarely taken a vacation, so our upcoming two-week honeymoon in Maui meant that he had to prepare his work ahead of time so Lydia could tackle the research project by herself for those fourteen days.

The sudden sound of organ music startles me. My dad sprints out of the sanctuary, headed toward me with the wedding planner on his heel. She stops a few feet short of where I’m standing. I sense she wants to give me one last moment with my dad before the ceremony starts.

“This is it.” Joel kisses my cheek. “I need to head up the aisle. I’ll see you there.”

My dad pats Joel on the back before taking his spot next to me, linking my hand around his elbow. “I’m proud of you. You picked the perfect husband. I couldn’t have asked for a better man to take care of my little girl.”

“I can take care of myself,” I say softly.

He gazes down at me, his eyes locking on mine. “That I know.”

As the music seamlessly flows into what sounds like a sped-up version of Here Comes the Bride , the wedding planner urges us to move with a circle of her finger.

My dad takes a measured step forward.

I follow, inching along beside him until we round the double doors of the sanctuary, and I spot Warren staring straight ahead.

A smile finally graces my mouth when his hand leaps in the air to wave at me.

He’s kind, he’s safe, and he cares for me.

My dad and I move forward, closer to my tomorrow and farther away from my doubts.

“When we get to Warren, I’ll lift your veil,” my dad whispers. “I’ve been waiting twenty-six years to do that.”

I look up and into his eyes. “Thank you, Dad.”

“Anything for my girl.”

Warren reaches for my hand as soon as we’re close enough to touch. I take comfort in the way he squeezes it. There are no fireworks. It’s a calm sense of familiarity.

My dad kisses my cheek after he raises my veil, adjusting it perfectly. “She’s all yours, Warren.”

Warren drops my hand to shake my dad’s. “It’s an honor, sir.”

We turn at the urging of the pastor, who has been an integral part of Warren’s life since he was a small boy.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”

“No! Stop! You’re making the biggest mistake of your life!”

Warren’s head turns at the sound of a man’s voice behind us.

I stand in place, stunned by the interruption, unsure of what I’m supposed to do.

“You can’t marry him!” The man’s deep voice bounces off the walls. “You belong with me! I love you!”


Tags: Deborah Bladon The Calvettis of New York Romance