Emma's hands wouldn't stop shaking.
"Deep breaths," Lena said, adjusting Emma's veil for the third time. "In through your nose, out through your mouth."
"I'm not nervous about marrying him." Emma looked at herself in the full-length mirror the restaurant had set up in their private dressing room. The simple silk gown hugged her curves, the delicate lace sleeves elegant without being fussy. "I'm nervous about crying so hard I can't get through my vows."
"Then cry." Lena squeezed her shoulders. "You've earned the right to ugly cry at your own wedding."
There was a soft knock, and Emma's mother peeked in. "Can I come in?"
"Of course, Mom."
Her mother stepped inside, took one look at Emma, and her eyes immediately filled with tears. "Oh, sweetheart. You're beautiful."
"Don't make me cry
