I roll my shoulders and take a deep breath, but it doesn’t help. My heart is pounding—hard—and there’s this nervous energy buzzing under my skin. Not the bad kind of nerves. Not second thoughts or doubts, not even close. It’s the kind of nerves that come when you’re waiting for the best thing in the world, and you just need it to get here already.

The chapel is warm, bathed in soft golden light filtering through the windows. The room is full—family, friends, people whispering quietly, shifting in their seats—but all of that is background noise. I barely hear any of it. I barely see any of it.

I shift my weight from one foot to the other, flex my fingers, glance down the aisle. The doors are still closed. Any second now.

Joey leans in, voice low.

Dude. Breathe.

I let out a breathy chuckle, realizing only then that I hadn’t been breathing.

I am breathing.

He smirks.

Not really.

I shake my head, but I don’t look at him. I can’t. My eyes are locked on those doors.

I tug at my cuff, roll my shoulders again, try to stand still, but it’s hard. This is it. The moment. I spent the entire morning trying to keep my cool—joking with the guys, making sure my hair looked perfect (obviously), adjusting my tie a million times even though it was fine. But now that I’m here, standing at the altar, waiting for her—

The music shifts.

I stop moving. Stop breathing.

The doors open.

And there she is.