Jace pulls me tightly against his body, and I collapse against him, resting my head in my favorite crevice just above his shoulder.

We sway slowly as I observe the other laughing couples on the dance floor, framed by the weathered wooden beams and twinkling lights above us. I can’t help but smile contentedly at the serene image.

I’ve never given much thought to what my own wedding will be like, even since learning of its impending date due to my father’s diagnosis and the antiquated marriage law.

It still feels like a distant event; not to mention one that will no doubt be micro-managed by my mother and her team of event planners to the point where I’ll hardly have any input in the day at all. The only aspect of the day I know I’ll have some say in will be the groom. My mother has strong feelings on the topic, her favorite option being the Vanderbilts’ son Charles, but I know the ultimate decision will be my own.

On the rare occasion the thought of my wedding crossed my mind, I envisioned details such as a freesia bouquet and a long lace train, but it was always an average, nondescript face I was walking toward.

Swaying back and forth in Jace’s arms in the midst of decorations and a venue I would have never chosen for myself, those details suddenly seem irrelevant. As I try to picture my own wedding, the image that forms is absent any details regarding the flowers or dress. The only thing I can picture with absolute clarity is the face I want waiting for me at the end of the aisle. The brief flash of joy the image fills me with is quickly replaced by a cold trickle of panic.

I stiffen, and Jace notices.

“You okay?” he whispers in my ear. The sound of his voice is enough to pull me out of the state of anxiety and back to the present.

“Yeah,” I reply, relaxing back against him. I force troubling thoughts from my mind for the third time today, determined to enjoy this moment while it lasts.

A couple of hours later, the festivities gradually begin to die down. Claire is falling asleep at the table when Ellen announces it’s time to go.

We all gather our coats, thank the Williams family, and head outside into the cold night air. I wrap my jacket tightly around me to ward off the chill.

I entirely forgot about the dirt field we crossed until we reach the end of the path and Jace scoops me up against his chest without a word. I’m transported back to the night he carried me up to his room at Lincoln, grateful I get to experience the comforting rocking of his arms without the unpleasant nausea I was contending with the last time. The ride back to the Dawsons’ farm is quiet. Everyone is tired after the excitement of a long day.

Mr. Dawson parks the SUV in front of the farmhouse, and we all hustle from the car to get inside the warm house. Mr. Dawson heads directly to the wood stove to put another log on the fire burning inside, and Mrs. Dawson hangs up everyone’s dress coats in the closet. Claire ambles sleepily to the stairs, and the twins follow closely behind.