I think this might be the most surreal day of my existence.

I mean, I'm getting married. Married.

There's been so much planning and preparation going into this day that I don't know if I've taken any time lately to really take in what exactly that means.

I'm going to be someone's wife. Forever.

It's a little scary.

Scary, but exciting.

I really do love this guy. I didn't think I'd find my happily ever after this young, but when it's right, you just sort of know.

I smooth down the front of my dress and smile—it's actually my mom's wedding dress. She kept it all these years in pristine condition, and it was always a sort of fantasy of mine to be able to walk down the aisle in it.

Really, it was kind of nice to not have to worry about that part of the entire planning process, even if it meant that technically Ryan's already seen the dress.

I don't know that he ever paid a lot of attention to my parent's wedding pictures, though, and I certainly didn't tell him that I was going to wear Mom's dress. It doesn't really matter, ultimately—he's never seen me in it, so it'll still be a surprise.

In hindsight, though, the planning of this day wasn't that bad. Hyper-organized Mom took care of a lot of it, and I know we're both eternally grateful. Even with a wedding this small, there were more details than I wanted to think about, enough to make my head swim, and that's just not my thing. Mom, on the other hand, is totally into this.

Jack says it's so she doesn't have to think about her daughter getting married.

I think he might be right. She hasn't mentioned anything about me getting married for a while, just wedding stuff in general.

I think Dad's been trying to pretend it isn't really happening.

He was considerably less than thrilled when I got engaged. Of course, he was never really excited about me dating in general, and when Ryan and I got together what feels like a million years ago, I'm sure he didn't think this would the guy he'd be handing me off to.

That sounds really old-fashioned when I think about it that way, but since we're going with a mostly traditional walk down the aisle, that's basically what happens.

Ryan and I started dating when we were sophomores in college—he was Jack's roommate, actually. When I told my mom, all she could do was laugh.

Apparently, that's how she met my dad, even though they didn't start dating until a long time after; he and Uncle Ross met at the beginning of college and have been friends ever since. Dad met Mom that same year and she said she liked him then, even though he was an idiot. Then there was some sort of toe cutting incident—I'm not really sure about it, though, because Mom wasn't too keen on giving me the details—and somehow, they became friends. And were friends for ten years before dating.

I can't even imagine.

Not that Ryan and I weren't friends first. Well, sort of. I mean, we went to different schools so it wasn't like we spent tons of time together, but I went to NYU and Jack was at Columbia, so it wasn't like we didn't see each other a lot. Through that, I got to be sort of friends with the people he knew and vice versa. Then Ryan asked me out and that was that. Well, we kept it kind of quiet for a while (something else my mom found endlessly amusing).

I sort of started talking about maybe marrying him around my senior year of college and my mom made me promise to break up with him for a little while after we graduated.

That was shocking.

But she told me that it would be better to spend a few months away from him and know without a doubt that he was the guy I wanted to spend the rest of my life with than to jump into marriage only to find out in a year or two that it was all a mistake.

Surprisingly, Ryan agreed. Well, maybe it wasn't that surprising. He's four years older than me and a lot more mature than most guys, and saw the wisdom in what my mom said.

When my dad found out about our age difference, he tried to convince me that Ryan was too old for me. He said that nineteen and twenty-three was too large of an age gap, and what was someone his age doing as a sophomore in college anyway?

When I told him that Ryan had spent a few years traveling the world with Habitat for Humanity, he didn't have much to say.

And it's not that Dad doesn't like my fiancé; it's just that he doesn't like anyone dating me.

He's a little protective sometimes.

We spent a few months apart, and I sort of dated a few other guys and I tried to be objective, but when it came down to it, none of them could hold a candle to my guy. We even took some time to just date each other before getting engaged, just to make sure.

We're sure.

But that's why I'm getting married at twenty-five instead of twenty-three.

I'm glad we took that time, though, because I've never been more sure of anything in my life.

And here I am on my wedding day, with all the people I love most in the world to celebrate with me. My parents tried to insist on a big wedding—my dad said if I was going to do it, I was going to do it right—but that wasn't what we wanted. A big wedding just isn't us. We'd rather save that money for the future.

Even so, everything is absolutely beautiful.

The leaves are all these amazing reds and yellows and oranges; the sky is a wonderful deep blue; the temperature outside has been staying just warm enough for an outdoor ceremony to be bearable, and since there's going to be a fire pit at the reception, the evening shouldn't be a problem, either.

I take a deep breath and look at the clock on the wall. Still another ten minutes before everything's supposed to start.

I've been ready for hours.

I'm not one to be late to anything.

I look out the window and can see guests still filing in, being lead to their seats by my brothers and the other groomsmen. It looks like most of the seats are filled; hopefully, we should be able to get started on time.

"You okay?"

I look up and see Emma looking at me expectantly, the deep yellow of her bridesmaid's dress reflecting nicely off her constantly-tan skin. She's a couple years older than me but has zero interest in settling down right now. I think it drives my aunt Rachel nuts, but independence works for Emma.

I reach out and squeeze her hand; I think her palms are actually sweating. "I'm good. I'm great."

My other two bridesmaids appear before me; Aunt Phoebe and Uncle Mike's daughters—Amelia in deep chocolate and Lucy in burnt orange—who've grown up with me. I've never met any people in my twenty-five years on Earth who mean as much to me and who get me the way my family does. It's not that I don't have friends outside of these women; it's just not the same. This day wouldn't mean as much without them standing next to me.

"Do you need anything?" Amelia asks, armed with tissues. I bite my lip and shake my head—I've come this far today without crying, I'm hoping I can make it through the ceremony.

Lucy's eyes brim with tears and she snags a tissue from her sister, turning away from me. She's always been the emotional one.

"Hey, Erica." I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn, my head automatically tilting back a bit to take in my "little" sister. My maid of honor, completely gorgeous in deep, apple red, her skin tone the exact same as our mother's, who also looks fabulous in any shade of red. She has that little twinkle in her eye that always reminds me of Dad. I grin and wait, knowing it's got to be something. She just sighs and shakes her head a little, pulling me into her arms. "Do you wanna build a snowman?" she whispers, and I feel tears spill down my cheeks. This girl; the Anna to my Elsa, who watched that stupid movie with me every day for almost two years. She grew up being the biggest pain in my ass; she followed me around constantly, she copied my every move, my clothes, my haircuts, and tried to be friends with my friends. But she was my staunchest ally, sticking by my side when our brothers harassed me even if I was in the wrong, covering for me with our parents, agreeing with everything I said, even helping convince our brothers to dress up as Olaf and Sven for Halloween one year; she somehow became my best friend in the entire world, the first person I told when I got engaged and who insisted to our parents that I was completely ready for marriage.

This day would mean nothing without her by my side.

Her tears hit my shoulder, her body shaking as she cries, and I know this is pretty big for her, too. It's like the end of an era. I'm officially going to be a grown up.

"I love you, Eri," she whispers and I tighten my arms around her.

"I love you, too, butt munch."

"No, no, no, none of that." I laugh when I hear my mom's voice, attempting to be stern. I think she's about to break, though. Her hands go to our shoulders and we pull her into our embrace, still sniffling. "You know, we really don't have time for this," she insists weakly and I just squeeze her tighter.

"We're ahead of schedule, Mom," I whisper. "This wedding is like a well-oiled machine."

"Like you'd expect anything less," she answers and my sister chuckles, pulling away from the hug. Amelia hands us a few tissues then drags my sister off to fix her makeup.

Mom puts her hands on my cheeks, her thumbs brushing away my tears. "I love you, baby girl," she whispers, and I bite my lip, nodding. "I'll always be here for you." Her arms go around me and I bury my face in her neck, suddenly feeling like a five-year-old again.

"You look hot, Mom," I tell her, and that does the trick. She laughs at me and shakes her head.

"You sound just like your father."

"I know. But you do look good." She does—she's wearing the same red as my sister, and even though she likes to complain that she's old, she looks more like an older sister than a mother.

"Well, you look beautiful."

I see my dad appear behind her and smile. He tries to smile back, but he looks like he's struggling.

"How you doing, little butt?" he asks and I roll my eyes as I pull away from my mom.

"A little nervous but—"

"If you're nervous I can get you out of this. Just say the word and we're out of here."

"Chandler," my mother groans, smacking his arm. "Every woman gets a little nervous on her wedding day."

"Except you, right?" he asks, sliding his arm around her shoulders and she shakes her head at me.

"I think you were nervous enough for the both of us."

"I'm okay, Daddy. I'm just ready to get this show on the road."

He wraps his arm around me suddenly, pulling me into a giant bear hug. I can hear his heart thumping against his chest, and I think he's the one who's nervous. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I'm so sure. I love him."

"Yeah, but…"

"You know the way you feel about Mom?"

He nods slowly; I know how in love with her he is, how much he's always loved her. Theirs is the gold standard my brothers and sister have held all relationships to our whole lives, whether they were own relationships or the ones of people around us. Do they love each other as much as Mom and Dad? Do they even come close?

Most people don't hold up.

But I think Ryan and I come close.

"That's the way I feel about him. He's the guy I was meant to be with. You understand that, right?"

"Just because I understand it doesn't mean I have to like it," he whispers, his voice strained and I blink hard, trying not to cry again. "You're my little girl, Erica. You always will be. And if he ever, ever hurts you…"

My dad's not a violent person, not even a little bit, but I know without a doubt that he would maim anyone who hurt one of his kids. That's one of the things I love most about him.

I just nod and let him hold me, taking in the last few minutes of being just his daughter.

I think this is the part that's scariest. I can't just go running to my parents anymore when something gets tough; I'll have to deal with things with my husband.

Husband.

Wow.

"You'll always be my favorite guy, Daddy," I whisper and he nods his head, and at that moment my brothers come barreling into the room, talking incoherently over each other. My dad steps back, wrapping his arms around my mom's waist as the boys come at me, and suddenly all of my siblings are around me, arms everywhere, all towering over me, even my own twin. My mom and I are the only short ones out of the bunch, which is the only way I could fit into her wedding dress; everyone else is my dad's height.

I like that my mom and I have that in common.

There's a knock at the door and my aunt Rachel sticks her head in. "Everything's ready out here, Erica."

"Thanks, Aunt Rache," I say, my voice muffled by my family around me.

My bridesmaids smile at me, all of them checking their makeup one last time before heading out the door, my brothers in tow. My mother dabs at my face with a tissue, making sure all is in order, and my dad holds out his arm for me. I slide my hand around his forearm and Mom hands me my bouquet. She links her arm through mine and we somehow manage to get through the door like that. A few steps later we're outside and I can see my wedding party walking down the aisle ahead of me, guests on either side of the aisle holding sparklers that look like fireflies, an idea I had in my childhood that I could never seem to shake.

I remember being a little girl, playing in our backyard during the summer, and lying on the grass watching the fireflies dance around me and thinking it was like a million stars that I could touch. And then I became obsessed with the idea of walking through a tunnel of stars, which turned into walking down the aisle surrounded by stars. When I finally confessed that image to my mother, she immediately suggested sparklers and twinkle lights.

And that's why we left a lot of the wedding and reception stuff up to her—she's brilliant about these things.

I can't see Ryan yet, but I know he's there.

Everyone files into place and I see my uncle Joey standing at the altar, grinning from ear to ear as he waits to officiate the ceremony for us. When I told Ryan that he'd done it for my parents and Aunt Pheebs, his first reaction was to have him do it for us, too.

Just another reason why I love this man so much.

I see all of my bridesmaids standing on the left, grinning wildly as they wait for me to take my place at the altar, my sister's smile brighter than anyone's. I shift my eyes to the right a fraction and there he is, my fiancée, his eyes wide and full of tears as he sees me for the first time in my wedding dress. My heart soars as time stops, all trace of worry gone.

This is it. The rest of my life.

I can't wait.

*A/N…I don't know where this came from, but wouldn't leave me alone until I got it out.