Ceremony at four.
Reception immediately after.
Cake cutting at seven.
Send-off at ten.
I’ve planned weddings for years, but somehow this one has felt like planning a military operation, which is ironicconsidering I’ve been spending my nights with an actual Navy SEAL.
My cheeks warm at the thought.
The bridal suite door bursts open just as I walk up.
Caroline, the missing bridesmaid dress girl, rushes out holding a curling iron. “Fern! Thank God. Valerie wants to talk to you.”
Of course she does.
I paste on my professional smile and step inside.
Chaos greets me instantly.
Hair stylists.
Makeup artists.
Bridesmaids everywhere.
Valerie stands in the center of the room in a silk robe, looking like a stressed-out queen.
“Finally,” she says.
“Good morning,” I reply calmly.
“Is everything ready?”
“Yes.”
“The band?”
“Yes.”
“The cake?”
“Yes.”
She narrows her eyes. “You sound annoyed.”
“I’m just busy.”
“Well, don’t be. This is the most important day of my life.”
I bite my tongue, smile, and nod. “Yes, Valerie.”
Hours pass in a blur.
I run from the ceremony site to the reception hall and back again. I direct florists, fix a seating chart disaster, calm Aunt Linda down when she decides the appetizers aren’t gluten-free enough, retrieve Uncle Josh from the bar before noon, and track down Courtney and her boyfriend—again.
By the time the ceremony begins, I feel like I’ve run a marathon, but everything looks perfect.
