Finally I can’t take it anymore. Adrenaline is rushing through me and my pulse is erratic so I go back to my Chevelle and open the glove box. Digging around beneath a stack of papers, I find a pack of cigarettes that I hid in there ages ago for moments just like these.

“Really?” Ethan questions as I sit down in the driver’s seat with the door open and my feet planted in the snow.

“I just need to calm down,” I say and pop one into my mouth. He shakes his head, laughing under his breath as I grab the lighter out of the pack, cup my hand around the end of the cigarette, and light it. As soon as the nicotine enters my lungs, I feel better and my heart rate starts to settle.

Ethan heaves a large Tupperware bin out of the trunk and drops it onto the ground as I suck drag after drag off the cigarette, my heart calming, my skin warming under my coat and shirt.

“You feel better?” he asks as I graze my thumb over the end of the cigarette and scatter ash across the snow.

I savor another breath of smoke. “Actually, I do.”

He rolls his eyes. Ethan never did like it when I smoked, except I think he used to smoke pot. He would always chew me out, though, for getting ash in his truck and stinking up the upholstery.

After I finish the cigarette I put it out in the snow as a large maroon SUV comes bumping down the road. I wish I had some cologne on hand because now I stink and Ella’s going to know I’ve been smoking. She won’t get mad at me, but she knows I do it when something’s wrong, and knowing her, she’ll think it’s because I don’t want to get married.

The SUV stops close to the Chevelle and the engine stays running as Dean hops out, zipping up his coat. His hair is combed to the side and he has these really shiny shoes on. I remember when we were younger, how he had an eyebrow piercing and was obsessed with the idea that one day he would have tattoos all over his arms and a goatee.

“Hey, man, you might want to go back to the house and check on Ella,” he says, stuffing his hands into the pocket of his slacks as he walks up to me.

I meet him at the front of the car and sit down on the frosted hood, folding my arms. “She said she was going to drive down here with my mom and Lila.”

He shakes his head and hitches his thumb over his shoulder, pointing at the road. “She was… is, but something sort of happened.”

I stand up, my pulse immediately accelerating as the fear that I’ve been stood up again races through my mind. “Why? What happened?”

He looks tense and uncomfortable, rocking back on his heels. “I’m not really sure. All I know is that Ella’s friend… that blond girl, told me I should probably come get you.”

I don’t even wait for him to say anything else. I get inside the car, unplug the lights, and press on the gas, hoping it’s not what I’m thinking.

Hoping she’s not standing me up again.

Ella

Breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe.

I’m trying to get air into my lungs, but I feel like I’m suffocating, invisible fingers wrapping around my neck as I battle for oxygen. I don’t even know where the panic attack stemmed from. One minute I was fine, getting my hair pinned up as I listened to Lila talk about her and Ethan’s road trip plans and the next I felt like I was drowning in the fact that as soon as Lila was finished with my hair, I was going to have to put the dress on. Then it’d be time to go to my wedding, say my vows, start my future.

I’d flipped out and started bawling, scaring the crap out of Micha’s mom, Lila, and Caroline as I jumped out of the chair and raced back into Micha’s room. Lila came to check on me as I was balling on the bed. She tried to talk to me, but I couldn’t stop crying. Then I’d pulled a blanket over my head, ready to shut down, but then I’d remembered all the progress I’d made over the last couple of years and instead I ended up saying something that shocked me.

“Go get Micha, please.” My voice cracks through my sobs.

Lila pauses. “Um, okay.” Seconds later, I’d heard the door shut.

After she leaves, I cry for what seems like hours, ruining my makeup as tears stream down my face. I keep trying to tell myself to get out of the damn bed and go put the dress on because deep down I know I want to and I’m just scared. Finally, the door creaks open and I freeze as I hear the soft sound of footsteps padding over to the bed. The mattress sinks as someone sits down on the edge of the bed, and then a hand touches my shoulder on the outside of the blanket.

“Ella…” Micha’s voice is alarmingly off pitch. “What’s wrong?”

When I don’t respond, he pulls the blanket off my head and the cold air stings my skin. I peer up at him through tear-stained eyes and he sighs, looking like he’s on the brink of crying too. “Are you…” He swallows hard as he touches my cheek with his fingers, and then he shuts his eyes. “Are you getting cold feet again?”

I shake my head and sit up, rubbing the back of my hand across my face, making my makeup worse I’m sure. “No, it’s not that… I’m just…” I search for what I’m really feeling, because I want to tell him the truth. “I’m just scared. I keep thinking about putting the dress on, walking down the aisle, saying my vows… moving forward. I’m overwhelmed and I needed someone here who got me. Who could help me put my dress on and get me through this.” A slow breath eases from my lips as I realize that that’s all I want—Micha by my side because he’ll get me through this. Sure, I know that sometimes I have to do things on my own, but at the same time admitting when I do need someone makes me stronger.

He opens his eyes and blinks back the tears. “Are you sure that’s it?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” I tell him, wholeheartedly. “I just panicked and I’m so sorry. I just need you here with me right now.”

He studies me for what feels like forever and then he suddenly slides me to the side of the bed, takes my hand, and pulls me to my feet with this intense look on his face. Releasing my hand, he grabs the bottom of my shirt and tugs it over my head, moving carefully to avoid ruining the curls and braids or knocking out any of the black flowers. He discards my shirt on the floor, and then unties the drawstring of my pajamas, his eyes locked on me as he slips them down my legs. I refuse to look away from him and the longer I focus on him, the calmer I get inside, the violent rainstorm settling into a light drizzle. When the pants reach my feet, I step out of them. He makes his way to the closet and gets my wedding dress. It’s a beautiful dress, a shimmering black silk top, a red ribbon securing the back, and an elegant flowing white bottom bunched together in places by red and black roses.

Micha slips the plastic straps off the hanger as he returns to me and then lowers the dress to the floor so I can step into it. Once I get my legs through, he guides the fabric up my body until the top covers my breasts. Then I hold the front up with one hand and he walks behind me and grazes his fingers down my spine.

“Feeling any better?” he asks, his breath hot on my neck and I shiver.

I nod, freeing a trapped breath. “A lot better actually.”

“Good, because I want you to feel better. I want you to feel good about this—about marrying me, Ella May.” He slowly zips up the dress and the fabric constricts against my body, pushing my breast up the slightest bit. Once he gets it zipped, he steps back in front of me, nudging the flowing bottom out of the way with his boot. “Are you sure you want this—want me forever?” He has this guarded look in his eyes, like he’s trying to pretend that he can handle whatever, but I can tell that if I say no—that I don’t want this—it’ll crush him.

“Micha, I want this more than I’ve ever wanted anything,” I say honestly as I run my fingers along the bottom of my eyes and cheeks. “Just let me fix my makeup and we can go. I’m sure I look hideous.”