Mike is at the altar waiting for me. Even though he’s smiling, I can tell he’s extra nervous. His fingers are wrestling with each other behind his back, but he doesn’t notice. He does that any time he
has too much on his mind. He is everything a woman could ask for.
Tall, with a Greek-k god physique, handsome, and funny—the list could go on and on, but there are only twenty-four hours in a day.
I couldn’t dream of a more perfect time to have a wedding.
The sky is clear enough to mimic the ocean itself, and the sun is at its highest point. A slight breeze comes through and picks up the scent of the daisies throughout the terrace. We have eighteen
different types of daisies at the wedding. Even my bouquet is an overdose of mixed colors and sizes that don’t really mesh well, but I don’t care. Some of them had to be shipped from a different country, but it is well worth it. They all represent a part of me. I have to learn to love some, and some are just now coming into full bloom.
A normal wedding would have roses, a flower girl, a ring bearer—but we have none of that. I’m surprised we even have a priest.