The streets were alive with the sounds of vendors, tourists, and—oh, right—your wedding dress billowing behind you as you sprinted for dear life.

And behind you, hot on your heels, was one very determined Mexican Colonel in a tux, looking entirely too handsome and entirely too determined.

“¡Mi chula, conmigo vienes!” Alejandro barked, his voice cutting through the crowd as he closed the distance.

“I CAN’T MARRY YOU, YOU’RE TOO GOOD FOR ME!” you wailed over your shoulder, dodging a produce stand and nearly taking out a display of mangoes.

Alejandro cursed under his breath, sidestepping a stunned tourist. “¡Por Dios! That’s the dumbest thing I’ve heard all week!”

“You open doors for me!” you accused, lifting your skirts as you ran through a flock of birds minding their own business.

“Because I have manners, cariño!”

“You—You put your jacket over puddles for me to walk on!”

Alejandro let out a frustrated groan, leaping over a bench with military precision. “Would you rather I let you step in them?!”

“Yes!” You shouted back, not sounding at all insane.

“I’LL BE LESS NICE THEN!” he swore dramatically, narrowly avoiding a fruit stand as he chased after you.