“I know. Yes…you’re right.” That was how she had to look at it—she was marrying the man she loved. Why was she nervous? Why were those damn butterflies stalking her? It was only Dylan in there waiting for her. It wasn’t as if he were a monster or a beast. This was real life, not a fairy tale where she was being forced to marry an ogre, or a horror story and she was wedding a madman. It was just Dylan.

She smiled at her dad and hooked her hand through the crook of his offered arm.

Georgie, Brendon and Gucci raced off ahead.

Megan and her father followed. Each step put her teeth on edge because all she could think of was the sparkle coming off her heels and being left on the gravel. No use to anyone, and the prettiness of the soles gone.

The bells stopped as they reached the entrance and the first chords of the Wedding March struck up. Before her was the aisle lined with pink bows. The pews were full to the brim and many of the congregation wore hats, making it seem even more crowded. The vicar stood at the end and nodded in greeting then spoke to someone to his left—Dylan, Megan presumed—with a reassuring smile.

Brendon, Olivia and Georgie walked down the aisle, slowly, Brendon scattering pink rose petals as he went. He flicked his wrist in an over-exaggerated way and the petals flew high before settling on the red carpet. Some landed on Gucci, who trotted alongside him on his posh lead with his tail in the air—he didn’t seem to mind.

“Good luck.”

Megan looked at her dad. “Thanks.”

Did she need luck for the next half an hour or for the rest of her life?

He pressed a kiss to her cheek and they stepped forward. As the familiar music filled her ears, she pulled in a deep breath. Her shoes were high and she felt a little unsteady. But it was okay, she had her dad to hold onto.

The crowd turned to look at her. She smiled at Aunt Sharon and Uncle Paul then saw some girls from her old office—all wearing fabulous designer dresses from this season’s line. She smiled shyly as she walked past. Her twin cousins turned, both looking handsome in suits and with their gelled hair shaped identically in right-sided partings. They had partners with them, and one was holding a child.

On and on she went. The aisle had felt small when they’d been to church in the past but now it seemed to be extending forever. The muscles in her belly quivered—she should have eaten rather than just drunk two glasses of champagne during the course of the morning.

Megan squeezed her father’s arm and smiled at her mother who was dabbing her cheek with a pink handkerchief.