“No, I think it’s cute,” Lucy says, sitting on the edge of the bed and tilting her head to the side as she considers my second sundress-and-sweatshirt outfit in as many days. “I think you look beachy. Cool.” My shoulders slump a little as I look down at myself, considering. “I’m not sure ‘beachy’

“Fine, Frankie,” I say, my voice slow and angry. As the words start to spill from me, I wonder where the hell the hesitant girl from this morning went – the one who was too scared to come out of the bedroom without Lucy teasing me into it. “Even if you’re set on just brushing this under the rug, I a

“Christian,” I groan, looking again over my shoulder at the second car following us, which is packed with four people to our two. “Why are we going to church!?” “For the tenth time, Iris!” Christian laughs, glancing at me cheerfully. Honestly, if he weren’t so excited about this, I’d be completely

“Iris Smith,” Christian says quietly, taking my left hand in his and looking directly into my eyes. “You are, without a doubt, the love of my life. I have been overwhelmed, every day of my life – with you present in it and not – by your beautiful soul, your grace, your strength, and your courage. Yo

I peek under the lid of the huge pot in the kitchen, checking on the boiling lobsters, pleased to see them turning a bright and shiny red. Grinning, I lower the lid and turn towards the oven, wanting to peek at the steaks finishing up in there as well. Because nothing says wedding feast like surf an