He's helping her into her wedding dress, and all of a sudden she's not sure she's actually ready for any of this.
"The groom isn't supposed to see the bride before the ceremony," she says brusquely, and his fingers pause just below her shoulder blades.
"I guess someone here is getting cold feet."
She bites her lip, painfully conscious of his eyes staring at her from the mirror. "I'm not."
"You can still back off, you know."
"I know."
Her voice is barely audible in the quiet of the room; she struggles to fight back the urge to break down and cry for no clear reason. She's been there before with Greg, the last thing she wants is to run away from another man she loves.
He threads his fingers through her hair; he's been making a habit of it, and though she'd rather die than admit it, that's something she particularly enjoys.
"I don't care whether we get married or not. The only thing that matters is you."
As if to prove his point, he meets her lips for a lingering kiss.
"They'd better not dare to comment on my dress, or I'll shoot them."
He all but laughs.