“Ridiculous?” Sammy asked. “It’s not. I mean, he’s my best friend. He’s literally my best friend. But we’re having a baby so... He’s very traditional.”

“And you’re not,” Miriam said.

The other woman was probably about Sammy’s age. But there was a gravity to her that Sammy certainly didn’t possess. Her black hair was tamed into a bun, the deep rose-colored lipstick she wore matte and perfect and sophisticated. Her brown skin glowed with the radiance of someone who had the patience for a daily skin regime, something that Sammy didn’t think she would ever have.

She was probably very traditional. Though Sammy noticed she didn’t have a ring on her elegant finger. She did, however, have a very nice manicure, which also spoke of patience and attention to detail.

“Not really,” Sammy said. “I’ve never believed in doing things for the sake of tradition. That’s how people wind up miserable.”

“And, often they wind up miserable bucking tradition for the sake of it, too. Nothing should be done just for the sake of it.”

“A good point,” Sammy said.

Of course, she didn’t know what the point of the point was. She was committed to marrying Ryder and everything was going to be fine. No matter what. There was no other option. Which was great, as far as she was concerned, and she didn’t need some polished-looking woman with better fashion sense than she had to start talking about her situation like she knew. She didn’t know. Nobody did.

She and Ryder weren’t like anyone else. There were no comparisons to make. No precedent set. Maybe that was a little bit egotistical, or something. But it was true. She knew that Pansy and her fiancé, West, had found some kind of amazing manic version of true love, and she was happy for them.

She and Ryder knew each other. They had the benefit of years of caring for one another. They... They practically were married. And had been long before they had ever slept together. If any two people knew what to expect from a lifetime commitment to one another, it was them. He was right. They knew each other too well to let themselves break apart over something as simple as sex. It just wasn’t them. It wasn’t in them.

“I’ll just go try the dresses on.”

She was feeling sulky and resolved to find nothing by the time she stripped the poofy confection off and put the new dress on. But then, something really unexpected happened, and when she stepped out of the dressing room and caught a look at her own reflection in the mirror her breath got trapped in her throat. She didn’t know she could look like that. The dress was simple, made of lace and beads, clinging to her body, rather than adding any volume to it. The kind of simplicity she hadn’t known could come with a wedding dress. It made her feel traditional and herself all at once.

And suddenly, she could see it. Really see it. Walking down some sort of aisle toward Ryder. As his bride.