Hazel’s POV
“You look like you’re about to throw up,” Adrian said, adjusting his tie in the mirror of the garden’s small dressing room, grinning at me with the particular delight of someone who’d waited a long time to say that sentence.
“I might,” I admitted, smoothing down the front of my dress for what felt like the hundredth time. “This is so much more terrifying than the first wedding.”
“Because the first one didn’t actually mean anything to either of you,” Adrian said, gentler now. “This one does. That’s why it’s terrifying. It’s supposed to be.”
I studied myself in the mirror, the dress simpler than the elaborate gown I’d worn five years earlier, something I’d chosen specifically because it allowed for full movement, for the possibility of dancing later if my body decided it want
