VANESSA
The wedding preparations were pure chaos. I was trying to wrangle a squirming six-year-old into a miniature tuxedo while my nerves frayed like old rope.
"Mom, the bow tie's too tight," Fabian complained, tugging at his collar for the hundredth time.
"Sweetheart, please stay still. You're the ring bearer, remember? Emily's counting on you." I adjusted the tiny black bow tie, my fingers trembling slightly.
I hated weddings. The irony wasn't lost on me – the divorced woman helping at a celebration of eternal love. But Emily was one of the few friends I'd made since returning to pack life, and I couldn't say no when she'd asked Fabian to be part of her special day.
My phone buzzed. Leo's name flashed on the screen.
"Everything okay?" I answered, pinning a boutonniere to Fabian's lapel.
"Just checking in," my brother's voice came through. "You sound stressed."
"I'm fine. Just wedding jitters – and they're not even mine."