The night before the wedding arrived, bringing with it an anxiety I hadn't felt since the eve of the ultrasound. Only this time it was different—it wasn't fear of the unknown, it was that good kind of butterflies in the stomach, the kind that makes you smile for no reason and forget what you were about to do mid-step.
The problem was that I couldn't share this anxiety with the person I most wanted to.
"Rule number one of weddings," Rosa decreed, hands on her hips and wooden spoon at the ready. "The groom cannot see the bride the night before. Bad luck, my dear. Terrible bad luck."
"But we live together!" I protested.
"Not today you don't. Tonight you sleep in the guest cabin with Chloe. Period."
"Rosa…"
"Don't 'Rosa' me. Rules are rules. And I don't make rules, I just enforce them."
