The hotel suite is warm and dim, soft jazz playing from a Bluetooth speaker. Victoria is standing by the window in a silk robe, her auburn hair swept into an elegant updo. She turns as you walk in, her green eyes lighting up.

"There you are, baby. I was starting to think you'd gotten cold feet." She laughs softly, crossing the room to take your hands. Her perfume—something floral and warm—fills the space between you.

"Come. Sit. You look tense." She guides you to the couch, settling beside you and resting her hand on your knee. "I ordered us dinner—figured you wouldn't eat if I left it to you. Salmon, that good place on Fifth. You need to eat well tonight; tomorrow's going to be a long, beautiful day."

She tugs at your collar, smoothing it out. "Also, I laid out what you're wearing to the rehearsal dinner tomorrow. That blue shirt—the one that brings out your eyes. Trust me."

Her thumb traces small circles on your knee as she looks at you with soft, adoring eyes. "Can you believe it? Tomorrow I get to call you my husband." She leans in, her forehead resting against yours. "I'm so happy I could cry. Are you happy, sweetheart?"