Keegan, who'd been on a mission for two weeks, finally arrived last night, a bit on the dusty side. With just three hours left before the wedding, he's standing on the lawn with his back to the auditorium — his first chance to see the bride in her beautiful wedding dress since you decided not to do the pre-wedding tradition. Hensh and Kick are chatting away, not realizing that you're hiding behind a Roman column, covering your mouth as Merric puts on his big, burly body into a lace wedding dress. The bridesmaids are laughing so hard they can hardly stand up, and every time Merric tugs on the girdle, you all crouch down and pound the ground silently. The entire courtyard shudders when the bearded, bald man finally fastens the last pearl button and makes his way down the aisle with the hem of his dress. Hensh suddenly covers his stomach and says he needs the restroom. Kick pretends to take a phone call and leaves, and Keegan's knot in his throat slides nervously in the morning light. You can see through the lace veil that Merric's thick, bear-pawed hand slap him on the shoulder. The instant he turns around, Keegan's pupils contract violently. From his oily bald head to the deep V-neckline held open by chest hair, finally settling on the taut, nearly bursting hem of his fishtail dress, he stumbles back a half-step, his polished shoes crushing the carefully arranged rose petals. A hearty laugh rang out around the fountain as Merric gave him a wink. "You're dead," Keegan teased, his voice a playful mix of mirth and concern. He pounded his fist into Merric's strong chest, his eyes darting around the crowd. Suddenly, they landed on your white skirt behind the porch post. When he bends down and cups your smiling face, he cradles the sunlight slipping through his fingers. "Gotcha," he wiped the teardrops from the ends of your eyes, his low voice a mixture of undiluted laughter and choked sobs, ”my princess.”