My dress was everything I’d dreamed—elegant lace sleeves, a skirt that flowed like water. Even I was stunned by my reflection.

Mom cried instantly. Aunt Rose watched quietly, and for a second I caught something uneasy in her expression—but it disappeared before I could name it.

By noon, we arrived at Riverside Manor—the venue Penelope and I had practically lived at during planning. It looked straight out of a fairytale. White roses everywhere, rows of chairs aligned perfectly, the gazebo waiting for us, the reception tent glowing in the sun.

“It’s perfect,” I whispered.
“You’re the perfect part,” Penelope replied, squeezing my arm.

I spent the next hour in the bridal suite, breathing, waiting, imagining Maverick getting ready somewhere nearby—feeling the same anticipation