In hindsight, Rosie was never sure how it was that she got through that eternal morning. She supposed that’s what mum’s and friends were for on your wedding day, to do all your thinking and all your preparing for you because your mind was always on him.

She still teased Sam that he’d gone and made them put it off for two years, but she didn’t mean much harm by it anymore. On that day it only made the waiting worse.

She couldn’t even remember what she had had for breakfast, except that there were eggs involved because she was continually reminded to keep eating them.

She did remember the dress, because she had seen it so many times before and so many times afterwards. The undergarments were special, and separate—the bodice to support and lift up the chest; the bustle to round out the rest of the figure, and the petticoats for the full skirt. For a brief breathtaking moment as she looked at her reflection in the glass she thought of how pretty she looked, but that quickly changed into how Sam’s eyes would light up when he saw her.

And they did. Her memories of the ceremony itself were blurred into Sam, how happy he looked and how her skin pricked when he took her hand in his, how warm his embrace felt and how smoothly he led her in the first dance.

But it wasn’t until they were alone that he kissed her, fully and deeply, as if he’d been afraid to betray his emotions and all propriety until then. She started crying right then, only it didn’t matter because he was crying too, because she was brushing tears from his eyes as she kissed him back.