Everything was going to be perfect, as I had hired the best wedding planner in town who had made it a priority to get every detail perfect. A winter wedding – reception inside of course. It was to be a small wedding, only immediate family and close friends.

Finding the venue to accommodate both the ceremony and the reception, and fit the vision I had built on my Pinterest, proved to be the most tedious task.

So boards had finally gone to good use for the decoration ideas. Clarissa had paid attention to every little detail, down to the napkin holders and gloves for the groomsmen. I had a lot of experience of going to weddings, planning my own on the sidelines while the bride and groom shared their first dance. Picking what I would and wouldn’t do. I compiled all of those ideas in a folder. Yes, Clarissa was a good choice.

The venue was perfect. The veranda over the wedding altar had been decorated with climbing evergreens and bright red roses, the crimson petals made an excellent control to our wedding color theme: champagne and gold.

Yes, this will do nicely. I want to squeal and cry tears of joy as I stand before the venue as my fiancé Adrian discussed details with the pastor and bullied the DJ over ‘First Dance” details.

He’d been practicing every night, he had such jitters. It’s so cute to see him care about this just as much as I have. So many of my girlfriends complained how their now husbands had left all the wedding planning to them. Not Adrian. He insisted he wanted to be a part of everything. He even insisted on the dance classes.

“This is our day. Which means you can have what you want too,” I had reminded him the first time he had asked for one thing at the wedding. Now I understand why so many of those husbands left it to their wives.

The classic bridezilla. I was determined to be anything but that. I didn’t want to make a big deal – yet, I wanted to make a big deal. I feel like every bride-to-be goes through this. Right? Right. I know I am having jitters.

It had taken so much to get to where I am now, from where I was just a few short months ago.

Desperate for love while simultaneously swearing it off for good. And then I met someone who made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. And before I knew it, my life had changed. I wasn’t going to ruin everything in one day over a tiny detail. His end of the deal had held up, the least I can do is not fuck it up.

“Hey baby, you ready to go?” Adrian calls to me, breaking my thoughts. I took one more glance at the altar – the next time we will be here, we will be standing here as husband and wife. It’s so surreal. I take his hand and we walk to the car. His buddies were waiting for him, and my sister for me. His best man Dante promised me that he’d get Adrian home at a reasonable time. Adrian assured me himself when the plan was made that it wouldn’t be more than a few drinks at a bar. He’s a reasonable man, and responsible. So I trust him. Why shouldn’t I? He’s been everything I could ask for – and more, and I didn’t expect it.

Adrian Andrew Hawthorne is a genuine unicorn. Smart and devilishly handsome. I fell for the dimples and the way his mustache curls upwards with his smile, his twinkling eyes, and his laugh. I love his laugh, and to laugh with him. No one has ever made me laugh the way he does. We could be in the middle of Target and we’d be in stitches over a shared intrusive thought. Anyone looking at us would think we were insane. I’m sure that’s a sign that we are well-matched. As they say, marry your best friend. I can honestly say that Adrian is my best friend. He met me at my lowest point. I tell him everything, as he tells me. Whether it’s our days at work, our awkward moments, or gossip, we share everything. I couldn’t say that I’ve ever felt this way about any of my previous relationships.

Not even the one that nearly destroyed me and sent me begging for a miracle. I usually felt that I was a bit of a nuisance when I shared just a simple story from my day. Adrian eats my stories for breakfast, he never tires of them.

Adrian opened the passenger door and helped me into the low-set seat, he reached over and buckled me in. We lock eyes – his free hand is around my neck and his mouth is on mine – devouring my lips, biting and pulling. He traces his fingers down my neck and then he pulls away abruptly and closes the door, making sure neither me nor my dress would be closed in it. He is so thoughtful…and a fucking tease.

I made the celibacy rule when we got engaged. At first, I deeply regretted it, being as Adrian is irresistible, and he does things like this that just drive me nuts. And he knows it.

Once in the driver’s seat and buckled, he turns on the heat and the temperature-controlled seats. He adjusts them to the perfect setting. The fog in the windows begins to disappear, and my toes and fingers tingle back to life.

He rubs them between him, breathing on them between kisses.

“How are you feeling about all this?” he asks, I could sense a note of anxiety in his voice. I cannot imagine the pressure of everything going perfect has been, I know he has kept his cool until this point, for my sake.

“It’s going to be perfect. And it will be perfect because we get to spend tomorrow together with our loved ones. Everything else is just background noise. And even if something does happen – we will have a story to tell,” I say.

“Anything for you, my love,” he said, kissing my hand. I swear I melt each time he says that.

A winter wedding was what I wanted – and he was happy to oblige. I didn’t want to overwhelm him, but he insisted. If it made me happy, he was happy. Going on venue tours and shopping for dishware and our wedding registry, with the help of Clarissa, was a lot. I can see that now.

It’s like the man deflated like a balloon – every bit of air and tension he was holding in over the last few weeks just released.

“Better?”

“I don’t think I realized how much I needed to hear that. Thank you. I am one lucky son of a bitch to have you as my wife,” he says as soon as he collects himself. He readjusts the seat temperature once more. I would correct him that I wasn’t his wife just yet, but I let it slide because I was too smitten.

“Comfortable?” he asks, taking my hand and kissing it.

“Perfect,” I respond with a gushing smile.

Sometimes I am in disbelief that he chose me. Not that I think myself as unattractive, but Adrian is the looker between the two of us. I notice other women scowling at me as if I have something I am not supposed to have. Happiness, and a man. I clutch onto him, protecting him from the women who would kill to be in my shoes. Because if these women knew what I had to go through to get here – they’d understand why I held on so tightly.

The other part of my brain says ‘fuck the haters, he chose you’.

He did choose me. He chose me that night in the bar four months ago. He chose me again two months ago when he got down on his knee. I didn’t hesitate for a moment. I knew I had found my twin flame. When you know, you know.

I need to listen to that part more. Do some self-esteem-building exercises, look in the mirror, and say ‘Aurora, you are one hot bitch. Start acting like it’.

The closer we draw to my sister’s house, the more dread of spending just one night apart starts to sit in.

My grip tightens on Adrian’s hand. He smiles, knowing I am not ready to be apart, even for just the night.

“It will be okay baby. One night away from each other will not kill us,” he says as if reading my mind.

“You say that, but what about the cold feet? A lot can happen in a night. You could be on a train to god-knows-where by morning,” I pout.

“I think Mexico is closer than god-knows-where,” he jokes, I nudge him.

“I’m serious though. You don’t have any worries or concerns? You’re not scared?” I realize I am spiraling midspiral, but I’ve already committed to it.

“Baby, I am not going anywhere. You are my queen. A king is nothing without his queen,” he says, squeezing my hand tighter. We pull into the driveway. My sister lives too fucking close to the wedding venue.

“Besides, we have something to consummate tomorrow, ” Adrian leans in, reaching for me, his strong hands gripping my thigh, his fingers tracing towards the hem of my dress, “and I’ve been waiting too long to not fuck you like my queen deserves.

My lip quivers for a breath before his lips are on mine, and his hand has delved into my panties, his touch awakening every desire I’ve bit back for the last month, and now he toys with me. He pulls back my hair and bites my neck, hard enough to almost break the skin. He then softens and leaves kisses down my neck, leaving me in a state of euphoria. Every part of me wanted him to just – no we can’t. It would ruin tomorrow. If I want anything to be perfect – it’s that.

“It’s time baby,” he says, breaking the kiss. I breathe, my heart still pulsing, and all the warmth pulsing at my center. He pulls his hand away just in time as my twin sister Morgan bounds down the porch steps.

Adrian does a good job of playing it cool as if he weren’t tempting me and seducing me only seconds ago, and waves at my sister through the window. She doesn’t wait, yanks the door open, and pulls me into a bone-crushing hug.

“Ready for a night of watching me pretend to know what I am doing?” She grins at me. I had no idea what she had planned. I find it unlikely that she had any sort of arts and crafts planned.

My sister is anything but feminine, and asking her to be my maid of honor was the best decision. I didn’t want the big bachelorette party with the banner and the screaming girls coupled with an ugly night of bar hopping.

“I think so,” I rasp, barely able to form a sentence.

Adrian pulls me away from my sister, wraps his arm around my waist, and wipes away the tears with his thumb.

“Goodnight, beautiful,” he says as he gazes into my eyes one last time before he kisses me on the forehead. His lips linger there for a few moments as if he is reigniting me with positive energy for tomorrow’s challenges.

I take in his handsome face, memorizing every feature from the scent of his cologne to the feel of his soft skin against mine. I add this image to the collection of memories that I plan on carrying with me for eternity – until we meet again tomorrow morning when Adrian will become my husband forevermore.

With that thought in mind, I let him go. He kisses me on the cheek and climbs into his car. We wave one last time at each other, my hand still outstretched until his car is out of sight.

I take a deep breath and turn to face the door Morgan is holding open for me with an expectant look on her face.

Suddenly, I feel my stomach drop as a wave of doubt and fear overtakes me. What if this is the wrong decision? What if we’re making a mistake? After all, we’ve only known each other for four months – will our love rest the test of time? I’m starting to think that maybe it was too soon.

I reluctantly follow my sister into the house, worrying with every step I take. The doubts start to race through my mind; Are we sure about this? Is Adrian ready to be married so soon after meeting me or is he only doing it because he feels pressured by his parents -? Could there be someone else out there who would make me happier than him in the long run? All these questions are running through my head and I can’t help but feel like perhaps I am making a huge mistake. Am I ready? That’s the question.

I’m spiraling and I know it. I try to push away these negative thoughts as much as possible and focus on the positive aspects of marrying Adrian-

“Oh no. I know that look. We need to get some drinks in you girl,” Morgan says, pulling me into the house and closing the door.

Now I understand why everyone drinks the night before their wedding.

To be continued…