Take Me On

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It was the day every little girl dreamed of, but Gabriella Ross suspected her dreams had been more elaborate than most. She’d always imagined herself in a ridiculously puffy confection of a wedding dress, walking up an aisle sprinkled with rose petals to meet the handsomest man on the face of the earth at the altar in front of hundreds of adoring guests. Her groom would only have eyes for her, and the two of them would become united for the rest of their lives, and doves would fly, and a choir would sing, and they’d live happily ever after. Piece of cake.

Well, she had still imagined most of that until recently. There were no doves poised for release here today, no choir, no rose petals—but there were a couple hundred guests out there. Hopefully, most of them were adoring. And the church was gorgeous. She couldn’t have dreamed of a more perfect setting.

Looking at her own reflection in the full-length mirror of her dressing room, Gabby saw a woman splotchy with anxiety instead of flushed with excitement. The dress was fabulous, but sleek and elegant instead of something appropriate for a princess in a fairy tale. And even her matron of honor/sister-in-law’s expertise with the foundation she was dabbing on Gabby’s throat and chest did little to camouflage the evidence of her out-of-control nerves. Minutes ago, she’d begun to look like she’d been slapped on both cheeks.

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