"This is insane," she says, peering around again.

Dark wooden chairs have been placed in two sections on a wooden floor with a cream satin runner between them. After the ceremony, the chairs will be removed and the space will turn into a dance floor. The whole setup is situated in front of the ivy wall.

The oversized hanging beds in the back corners have clear lights strung around the chains. They're always there. My mom had them installed when we were little. The cream-colored mattresses are spotless, and new pillows add an extra pop of color.

There are more lights on the tree trunks, and lanterns hang across the yard. Heat lamps are strategically placed around the garden. Bars and food tables line both sides of the hedge walls. Circular dinner tables are set from the middle of the room to the back. The right front corner has an area for a band, and the left front corner has one for a DJ.

"I can't get over this," Georgia states.

"It does look great," I agree.

"It's perfect," she claims.

Yes! I got it right.

It's not perfect though. She made it clear it'll never be the perfect day for her because she's marrying me.

I shrug off the comments in my head that have plagued me since she told me why this could never be the perfect wedding for her.

The lights and the heaters flip on. Soft music begins to play through the surround sound.

She laughs, asking, "Is this garden haunted?"

I chuckle. "No, everything's on timers. I scheduled the music to give you the overall vibe."

She bites her lip, continuing to be fascinated by it all. Then she arches her eyebrow and focuses on me.

My anxiety takes off again. I order, "Follow me." I lead her to one of the oversized beds and suggest, "Let's sit here and take it all in."

"You don't have to ask me twice!"

I chuckle and point to the heater. "It's going to get hot. Let me help you out of your coat."

She allows me, and I set it on the end of the bed, along with my coat.

She climbs onto the mattress and then I grab her calf, hold it in the air, and start to unzip her boot.

She pulls her leg toward her, questioning, "What are you doing?"

"Just chill. It's comfier this way. Trust me," I assert.

She relaxes, and I take off her boots and then my own. I lie back against the pillows and slide my arm around her.

Thankfully, she doesn't resist.

We sit in silence for a few moments. Her sugary-rose perfume teases me until I feel like I'll break out in a sweat.

She adds, "I can't get over how incredible this is."

"I think you're incredible," I blurt out, and my stomach flips faster.

She slowly meets my eye.