The Day I Stopped Being the Bride in My Own Wedding

On the day of the wedding rehearsal, I got to the venue to find my fiance, Preston Yardley, and my best friend, Polly Harding, deep in an argument over what color carpet the ceremony space should have.

Polly chased him down and got in a few swats before he finally threw up his hands. "Fine, fine, fine, dark gray it is, whatever you say, happy now, Your Majesty?"

The pleading words with that indulgent tone had even the staff laughing. "The bride and groom really are close."

Preston didn't correct them. Polly only bit her lip, her ears going a little red.

Nobody noticed I'd arrived.