— Pressure is high right now, nerves build goosebumps on the backs of your arms.

3 hours, 24 minutes, and 8 seconds before you walk down the isle and marry the love of your life: Art Donaldson.

You and Art had been together for six years, friends for twelve. Everything felt easy with him, he’s such a sweet and doting man— a man you’d watch grow out of his boyish stage into a man. The man you love.

Art asked you to be his girlfriend on in parking lot of an Applebee’s when the two of you were eighteen. It’d been months of acting like more than friends, sharing secret kisses in the confines of your bedroom, lingering glances and touches in passing by.

Three years later, Art proposed. It was beautiful, an intimate walk on the beach, just you, him and the sunset. He knew you better than anyone, he knew your dream proposal was something small and intimate, without the pressure of others to say the right thing or react the ‘proper’ way.

Over the span of three years, the two of you worked together to plan a wedding you both would enjoy. Not just solely influenced by your ideas, but his as well. Art had been a bit preoccupied with tennis, so that was challenging but in the end, your wedding day had finally made it.

0 hours, 10 minutes, 6 seconds before you walk down the isle and officially become a Donaldson.