My makeup was like something out of a movie—or Instagram. I’d tried to memorize what the makeup artist was doing, so I could do it myself, but it was impossible. I would never have enough skills to do what she did. Is this what having on fleek eyebrows was like? I didn’t even have to suck in my cheeks to see my cheekbones. I pursed my lips at myself in the mirror and was even tempted to take a selfie. Gah! Amazing.

And my dress? The only word for it was ethereal. I was glad I hadn’t chosen my own dress, because if I did, it wouldn’t look this good. I turned side to side in the mirror. This fabric was shimmery and floated around my body, it even had a little train in the back. I remembered Violet’s voice on the phone with Rose when I was trying it on for the first time. “It’s satin under tulle. It has a sweetheart neckline and spaghetti straps, floral embroidery and tiny crystal beads. It’s beautiful on her. It’s white, it’s sexy, it’s sweet, it’s perfect. This is the one. We’re getting it.” Then she snapped my picture and texted it to Rose. She’d been right, it was perfect for me. It was more than what I looked like though that kept me staring. I was happy. It shone through all the makeup. It shone through the satin and flowers, the hairdo, the dress, and the party to come.

And I had a surprise for Luke. They say pregnant women glowed. Well, I was glowing like a mother. I hoped I could make it through the ceremony without puking. I hoped my morning sickness (bullcrap, call it constant sickness) would go away, so I could eat cake. I really wanted that cake.

“Lily, it’s time,” Rose popped her head in the room to inform me. She wore a pink dress, similar in style to mine, except hers was knee length and didn’t have all the fancy added to it. Holly’s was pink too. Violet’s was lavender, of course.

It had been a long battle between Rose and Violet as to who would be the maid of honor. I’d almost been tempted to pick Holly, but she said she didn’t want to get in the middle. Violet said she deserved it for her subtle matchmaking machinations. Rose insisted she deserved it because we were twins. Eventually, Rose decided that being my identical twin outranked everything else, and she didn’t need to be the maid of honor for everyone to know I loved her most—insert my eye roll here. They’d been fighting for the sake of fighting. Violet and Rose were good at that. At least it was entertaining.