Becky
Two weeks before the ceremony, I found myself standing in front of the same mirror where I'd once prepared for my wedding to Adrian, trying on the dress I'd chosen for this occasion, something simpler than the wedding gown, softer, in a pale green that Micah had insisted looked "like spring" when I'd shown him the fabric swatch weeks earlier.
Mason found me there, having come to collect me for a fitting appointment that afternoon, and stopped in the doorway, something soft crossing his expression at the sight of me still in the half-finished dress.
"You look beautiful," he said quietly.
"It's not even finished yet," I said, laughing, gesturing at the pins still holding certain sections in place.
"Doesn't matter. You'd look beautiful in anything, Becky." He crossed the room, care
