I can’t help pacing back and forth along the big hall. I know he’s just gotta be around here somewhere, but the fear that crawls up and down my skin keeps me from entering the main room. My hands are shaking as I reach for the elongated brass door handle, forcing myself to push through. Guests are still finding their seats and saying grand hello’s to relatives and friends I’m sure they haven’t seen in months or years. I notice some familiar faces turn my way, so I move through the crowd quickly to avoid any greetings of my own.

There is only person I need to talk to right now.

The hall is covered in all sorts of white and pink flowers strewn along the pews: tulips, roses, and gardenias are even hung on the walls and ceiling in pastel strands. The blossoms could be sweetly fragrant if wasn’t for the dozens of mixed musky perfumes and heavy colognes floating in the air from all of the decked-out guests. My stomach feels like it makes a 360 degree turn when I see all of the effort that’s been put into today.

I was told it was over two hundred guests, all formally dressed in gowns and expensive suits. Looking down at my own jeans and t-shirt, I suddenly feel extremely out of place. Trying to tidy my uncombed black curls, I figure it might be better to hang my head and hide behind my dark wavy curtain as I rush through my search. Best not to call attention to myself.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

I jump at the sound of the microphone tests; the band is doing their last sound checks as the pastor talks to the father of the groom.

Darn it! I’m running out of time!

I enter a side door, seeing several matching white dresses with pink-flowered print scamper down the hall giggling. My nose can’t help flaring in revulsion at the color. At least I’m not wearing one of them. And thank goodness I didn’t have the taste to choose a pattern like that.

My instincts tell me the groom’s party has to be down the opposite end of the hall. Though my gut is hard to believe at this point, what with all of the butterflies multiplying inside, I follow it anyway. My stomach always told me when he was close by, anyway.

I hear some male voices hooting and laughing behind a big oak door. And, I hear it…. It’s his voice! I freeze, thinking of what I should do next.