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Anticipation buzzed under my skin, a mix of nerves and excitement. As I waited for Vlad, I couldn't help but think about the journey ahead. Oliver and I were about to step into a new chapter, one filled with promise and adventure.
"Mom, don’t cry," I said gently as Sadie and Laura helped pin my lace veil with its tiny beading to the top of my head. I caught my reflection in the mirror and marveled at the transformation. Rachel and Rigo Vicaria had outdone themselves.
The dress was stunning—one of a kind with a sweetheart neckline, illusion lace back, beading cascading down the bodice, and a long train with lace cap sleeves. It hugged my hips and flared out below. Oliver would lose his mind when he saw me.
The hair stylist had crafted a messy updo with my mahogany tresses, letting tendrils frame my face. My makeup and French manicure were flawless. Around my neck, I wore the diamond necklace Oliver had sent over with Raquel as a wedding gift. In my ears were my beloved teardrop diamond earrings, and on my wrist was my father’s watch. I wanted him with me today.
"How can I not?" my mom said, her voice quivering. "You’re beautiful. I wish your father could see you."
My eyes filled with tears, and Sadie quickly pressed a tissue to them to prevent my makeup from smudging. "He does see me," I said, sniffling and dabbing my nose.
My mother embraced me, and I clung to her like a small child. When we pulled apart, the photographer captured the moment. He’d been with us all morning, documenting every stage of preparation, from hair and makeup to the candid shots of us enjoying the catered breakfast and joking around.
Anxiety tightened my stomach, and I took a much-needed break, retreating to Sadie and Finley’s bedroom where Teagan was napping. I stroked her soft hair, watching her peaceful sleep. Maybe in a few years, I would have a little girl of my own, spoiled by Oliver just as much as he spoiled me. The future was full of possibilities.
I sat on the corner of the bed, exhausted and tempted to join my niece in sleep. In less than an hour, I would be standing before hundreds of people, saying my vows. My phone rang, pulling me from my daydream.
“Oliver, you can’t call me,” I said, answering with a mix of surprise and amusement.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I can’t see you through the phone,” he teased, his voice a comforting presence.
“Why are you calling? Do you have cold feet?”
“Not at all. I was calling to find out if you have cold feet. Say you’re still marrying me,” he pleaded.
“Now who’s being ridiculous? Of course I’m marrying you. It’s all I’ve thought of since you slipped the ring on my finger.”
“If that were true, you would’ve eloped with me,” Oliver teased, his voice warm with affection.
“I offered,” I replied, smiling at the memory.
“You did. I should’ve taken it,” he said with a hint of regret.
“Where are you?” I asked, curious about his whereabouts.
“At The SW,” he answered nonchalantly.
“Why? We’re not getting married for almost an hour,” I pointed out, glancing at the clock.
“I’m having a drink with the boys,” he admitted.
“One drink,” I warned, knowing his friends' penchant for celebration.
“Of course. Do you think I would be drunk on our wedding day?” he chuckled, trying to reassure me.
“Nerves could take over,” I suggested, knowing how easily they could creep up.
“I’ll have you know, Miss Stewart, that I’m calm and cool,” he declared confidently.
“I’m glad one of us is. I’m nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs,” I confessed, my voice trembling slightly.
Oliver started laughing, the sound both comforting and infectious. “Why?” he asked, genuinely curious.
“We have over five hundred guests coming. I’m afraid I’ll trip or say the wrong thing,” I admitted, voicing my fears.
“No one is going to fault you for being nervous. Just keep your mind on tonight,” he advised gently.
“What’s tonight?” I asked, momentarily distracted from my anxiety.
