Her parents were right behind him, their faces masks of alarm. His parents would appear next, and then they’d all come pouring out-her sisters and brother, Ted’s friends, their guests… So many people she cared about. Loved.

She searched frantically for the only person who could help her.

Meg stood off to the side, her hands in a death grip on her bridesmaid’s bouquet. Lucy pleaded with her eyes, prayed Meg would grasp what she needed. Meg started to rush toward her, then stopped. With the mental telepathy shared by best friends, Meg understood.

Ted caught Lucy’s arm and swept her into a small antechamber off to the side. Just before he shut the door, Lucy saw Meg take a deep breath and stride purposefully toward Lucy’s parents. Meg was used to dealing with messes. She’d fend them all off long enough for Lucy to-To do what?

The long, narrow antechamber was lined with hooks holding blue choir robes and high shelves bearing hymnals, music folders, and musty, ancient cardboard boxes. A trickle of sulfurous sunlight oozed through the dusty windowpanes in a door at the end and somehow found his cheek. Her lungs collapsed. She was dizzy from lack of air.

Ted gazed down at her, those cool amber eyes shadowed with concern, as calm as she was frantic. Please let him fix this like he fixes everything else. Let him fix her.

Tulle stuck to her cheek, held there by perspiration, by tears-she didn’t know which-as words she could never have imagined speaking tumbled out. “Ted, I can’t. I-I can’t.”

He lifted her veil just as she’d pictured, except she’d pictured him doing it at the end of the ceremony, right before he kissed her. His expression was perplexed. “I don’t understand.”

And neither did she. This raw panic was unlike anything she’d ever experienced.

He cocked his head, gazed into her eyes. “Lucy, we’re perfect together.”