With each step, the dress billowed out around her feet. She watched it for a moment, studying how the petals Brendon had scattered shifted in the breeze it made, then she looked up.

Dylan stood next to the vicar. His feet were hip-width apart and his arms rod-straight, fists clenched. He’d had his hair cut, shorter than normal, and a sheen of sweat sat on his brow, highlighted by the sunlight pouring in from a stained-glass window to his right.

He shifted from one foot to the other and a tight smile spread on his face. He gave a small, approving nod.

Megan slowed a little, her heart rate quickening.

This was it. He was here, she was here.

It was time to get married.

She glanced at Sean who stood at Dylan’s side. He was fiddling with his tie and was paler than usual.

God, he’s as nervous as me.

But what did Sean have to be nervous about? It wasn’t him getting hitched. Promising to love and honour another human being for the rest of his life.

She turned her attention back to Dylan and came to a halt in front of him.

“Take care of my girl,” her dad said quietly then released Megan’s arm. “We love you,” he said, smiling at her and stepping away.

Megan had a sudden urge to grab him back to her, make him stay close and stroke her hair the way he used to when she was a little girl and feeling afraid of the dark, or going to a new school.

But of course she didn’t. Instead, she swallowed down a bite of bile and passed her bouquet to Georgie as planned. She then turned to the vicar.

“Hello, Megan,” he said warmly.

“Hi.” She liked him. He was a kind, softly spoken man who gave off an air of concern and tenderness.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, fine, thank you.”

He studied her for a moment, his expression serious, then nodded and looked down at the book he held open.

Megan had a sudden feeling of emptiness—without the flowers to hold she didn’t know what to do with her hands.

She looked up at Dylan.

He was smiling at her.

A sense of relief went through her. He liked how she looked—the dress, the hair, the makeup—good, she’d pleased him. Dylan wasn’t fun to be around when he was in a bad mood and she really wanted him to be in a good mood, on this, their special day.

“We are gathered here today…” the vicar started.

Megan squeezed her nails into her palms.

Is this how she’d feel for the rest of her life? Wondering if Dylan was happy with her? If she’d done the right thing, worn the right clothes, spoken the correct words?