A November Bride by Beth Vogt

house. “I need to start making lists. We have to decide on a cake. A photographer. The wedding party. Guests. When do you want to get married? I always thought a summer wedding would be nice—”
    Erik dug his heels into the ground. “Stop.”
    “What?”
    “Sadie, I waited twelve years between our first kiss and the next time I kissed you. I’m not willing to wait even a month to marry you.”
    “But it takes time to plan a wedding—”
    “You’re going to make yourself crazy, you know. And you’re going to make me crazy too. You, Miss Plan Everything Down to the Last Detail, are going to take all the fun and joy out of this wedding.”
    “You’re right.” Sadie linked her arms around his neck.
    “I am?”
    “Yes. You are. What do you suggest?”
    “Leave it all to me.”
    “Leave it . . . all to you?”
    “Yes.”
    “The cake?”
    “Yes.”
    “The photographer?”
    “Yes.”
    “The wedding party?”
    “Yes.”
    “The location?”
    “Yes.”
    “The date?”
    “You already know the date.”
    “I do?”
    “Yes, you do. It’s the only day we could get married.”
    “Erik—”
    “You keep trying to figure it out . . . and I promise, I won’t let you miss our wedding.”
    “Very funny.”
    “Oh, I couldn’t be more serious, Sadie J. You and I are going to get married very, very soon.”

I t was her wedding day—not that the assembled guests realized that yet.
    Sadie paced her loft, waiting for Erik to sneak upstairs and announce, “It’s time.” Downstairs, thirty-three people—including her parents and Erik’s mom—mingled in her living and dining rooms, indulging in a bogus engagement party catered by Mel’s business.
    Sadie refused to sit down—where? On her bed?—and wrinkle the lace gown she’d found during a whirlwind shopping weekend with Mel and Ashley. Those two women knew how to throw a girl in a dressing room and toss dresses at her until Sadie feared she’d get lost under a pile of ivory and white satin and sashes.
    But when she’d slipped on this gown, with its fitted silhouette and sheer lace three-quarter sleeves, Sadie had almost not recognized herself when she’d faced her reflection in the mirror.
    “Stop.”
    “Is everything okay?” The heavy black curtain muffled Ashley’s voice.
    “Just . . . wait.”
    Sadie reenacted the moment, holding her breath and positioning herself in front of the full-length mirror. Would she catch a glimpse of what she’d seen that morning?
    Beautiful.
    Warmth flowed through her veins, suffusing her body. How had this happened? Was she beautiful because Erik chose her? Because Erik loved her?
    Yes . . . and no. There was more to it than that.
    She was being true to herself. She’d chosen her life. Chosen the man she’d love forever and happily ever after.
    Footsteps thudded up the wooden stairs and a moment later, Erik’s head and shoulders appeared above the railing— a clean-shaven Erik.
    “Are you ready?”
    “Absolutely! Did my parents see you come up here?”
    “I don’t think so. I told them I was checking on things in the kitchen.” His embrace was a sweet moment of sanctuary. “You look gorgeous.”
    She ran her hand across the soft skin of his jaw. “I still can’t believe you shaved off your beard for me.”
    “You did say you preferred me without it.”
    “But that didn’t mean you had to shave it off.”
    “I intend to keep my wife happy.”
    Sadie adjusted his tie, the blue a perfect match to his eyes. “You know we’re breaking a major tradition, letting you see me before the ceremony.”
    “We’re breaking so many traditions, what does one more matter? I planned the wedding, not you. We’ve known each other seventeen years, had three official dates, and are getting married seventeen days after I proposed.” Erik paused, cupping his chin in his hand. “Huh. Seventeen years. Seventeen days. Hadn’t realized that before.”
    “It’s a numerical coincidence. A good sign.”
    “I agree.