watch?v=p_IwENcMPOA

"Fifteen minutes, dear."

"Mama, please stop with the countdown. I'm stressed enough. I don't need yours."

"I'm not the one pacing laps around the bedroom, Jennie."

"And you're not the one getting married. So, do me a favor and please don't talk right now. I can't stand it. I've already kicked Becky and Joe out for laughing. You'll be next."

"Well, you have to admit, watching you breathe into a paper bag was rather amusing."

"Get out, Mama." She pointed at the door.

Mama patted her perfect hair. "You're so touchy today. Jennie, just try to relax, dear, to be happy. You're getting married to a man who's going places."

"Maybe, I don't want to go those places." Crossing her arms in front of her chest, she glared at her mama, who pressed her lips into a firm line and wisely hushed as she reached for her phone.

Uncrossing her arms, she paced back and forth.

She'd planned her wedding a long time, meticulously, and she wanted everything perfect. Dylan's arrogant parents already disliked her, so she needed their wedding to go off without a hitch.

Perfect.

She wanted her wedding perfect.

But something seemed off, felt wrong. Somehow, she'd missed something.

She twisted Dylan's huge ring, clicking her list off in her mind.

Her wedding dress, an almost backless, white creation tailored for her, which hugged her body in all the right places.

Beautifully.

Perfect.

Her friends had wrestled her frizzy hair under control, woven the pink baby roses into a crown through her hair and done her makeup to perfection.

Just as it should be.

The guests should be arriving by now and daddy would here soon, wearing his rented blue suit ready to walk her up the aisle, looking handsome, almost dapper, whatever the hell that meant? Mama, dressed in royal blue, stood holding her tissues, prepared to dab at her eyes during the wedding, but keeping quiet right now since she must want to stay in this room and watch her pace.

The food and drink were on site.

The massive white tent set up.

The chairs and tables in perfect place.

Where the flowers on the tables?

The flowers?

Right?

Was that it?

But no, she remembered, the florist had delivered the flowers. Each pink baby rose and white baby's breath, now in it's vase and in place on the table.

She'd planned her wedding down to the last fork, to the white tablecloths and the to matching fluted wine glasses for the toasts.

But she'd missed something. Like she had an itch in the middle of her back, she couldn't quite reach to scratch.

Chewing her bottom lip, she checked her phone, ignoring the congratulation texts, as she checked the time. Placing the phone back on the dresser, she paced.

Okay, ten more minutes, only ten more. Her palms grew damp, and she snatched one of mama's tissues, wiped her hands and tossed the tissue in the trash. The room airless, her chest tightened.

God, she was marrying Dylan in ten minutes. Did she still want to do this? Did she love him enough? Was she doing the right thing? Maybe she should talk to Sam? He always gave her good advice.

When had she seen him last?

She'd seen him at wedding shower.

And she hadn't even talked to him.

"I need air."

Opening the French doors, she stepped out on the second story balcony and shut her eyes.

Breathe, just breathe. The warm breeze caught her frizzy hair tickling her the back of her neck.

Opening her eyes, she peeked down at the crowd as the guests below made their way to the white wooden seats on the lawn.

The weather perfect, the sun shining, she noted the tiny white chairs in perfect straight rows.

Everything proceeded like clockwork, and soon granddaddy would marry her to Dylan. She was getting married. But instead of being ecstatic, she stood here having a meltdown.

Be reasonable, she told herself, this is nerves, pre-wedding jitters, but the feeling she'd missed something important intensified, and now her stomach hurt as she watched the guests walk toward those white chairs on the lawn.

"I'm going to get married, and I'm not going to marry Sam," she whispered to the wind.

She always thought she'd marry Sam.

Her eyes found the pink magnolia trees. They were in full bloom and already losing petals. The wind blew lightly scattering them on the green lawn as a familiar dark head walked toward her and her heart sped up, roaring in her ears now.

Breathing became hard, but for an entirely different reason now, as Sam, her dear childhood friend, who normally wore plaid and t-shirts, arrived looking wicked handsome in his black suit and tie.

Never one to be late, like her, he surprised her arriving this late.

And he walked slowly up the drive through the magnolia petals, his head bowed, his shoulders slumped, like back in high school when he and his team had lost homecoming.

"Sam, what's wrong with you?"

As she watched, he straightened, rolled his head and cracked his neck, then lifted his chin and stood tall. She exhaled sharply as Sam looked like sin in a suit and dress shoes and that sweet rush swept through her, tickling her stomach and warming her blood, like normal. Clearly, Sam was as hot as ever.

Gripping the railing, she squinted to see him better. His beard longer than usual, she approved of the extra scruff and imagined running her fingers through his facial hair.

Stop it! You're marrying Dylan in a few minutes, she cautioned herself.

But as usual, she couldn't help but sigh over him, since she'd crushed on him since grade school. Crushing on Sam had become a way of life for her.

Not that it'd ever gotten her anywhere.

And, oh, yes, Sam loved her back but as a friend, like family, like the twin brother she'd never had. Friends, nothing else, and she treasured his friendship so she'd never pushed.

But that didn't mean she hadn't want to.

She couldn't remember not knowing him. As children, they'd been neighbors, best friends and cookie thieves. They'd camped in each other's backyards and always had each other's backs at school. And as they'd grown up, he'd became the one she compared every boy then every man to, and if he'd have given her any kind of sign, anything at all, he'd have never known what hit him.

But he'd never taken their relationship out of the 'friend zone,' and he'd benched any type of serious relationship before they were out of high school, right after he's almost kissed her one night after a game.

After the failed kiss night, he'd treated her like his kid sister while he hatefully burned his way through countless girlfriends during high school, none of which had been her.

While, Sam had officially 'friend zoned' her, he denied he hadn't sworn the boys off of her. But her relationships with other boys in high school had been few and far between because they always broke up with her.

College had been easier since they'd attended different schools, and at least she'd hadn't to watch him date, but she'd still heard the rumors about his college flings before he dropped out. And she hated every single girl he'd been with in his life because she wanted him and had seen him first.

So what if she couldn't have him?

"Sam," she called out waving her hands.

Too far away, he didn't hear her, and he continued toward the gift table, walking faster now as his long legs ate up the lawn, his broad back filling out his black suit.

Thoughts of seeing him without his black suit crossed her mind, and she forced them away. She had no right thinking about him, dreaming about getting him naked. Tuck your bad fantasy away, you're getting married today, she chided herself, but like an addict, her naughty brain went there and her stomach flipped over.

'Friend zone,' remember? He only wants to be friends. Stop being a fool. She squeezed the railing, realizing he'd wrapped with his gift with tie die material.

She inhaled sharply. Her dress seemed too tight. A pain developed in her chest.

Tie die? Oh, Sam? Had she missed something? And she'd thought he didn't care about her like that.

But did a man who didn't care go to the trouble to wrap his gift in tie die material to remind her of their almost first kiss?

"You remembered." She said as she put a hand to her mouth.

Memories of that game night returned. Sixteen again, she'd crushed on him hard back then. To get him to notice her, she'd modified her tie tied t-shirt by putting his name on the back and cutting the bottom of the shirt into fringes, hoping he'd find it sexy. Hollering at him sitting on the bench, heart racing, she'd turned and showed him his name on her shirt and turned back to lock eyes with him as he'd waved and given her his small sexy grin.

And later at Gus's, she held his hand, embraced the magic and almost got a kiss.

Damn Jim for knocking on the window.

Embarrassed everyone had seen and laughed, she'd ran after Jim, and Sam and she'd treated the almost kiss like a joke. Sam never mentioned it and it had never happened again.

Now, as she watched him set his tie died present down gently and pick up Dylan's and her picture, her fingers itched to sweep his long hair out of his face.

Back before college and even after, she'd spent a lot of time wondering if Sam thought of her naked, tangled up with him, her skin against his skin, too. As they got to be adults, she imagined that look in his eyes contained more than friendship but then he'd blink and return to being Sam.

She stared at him while he stared at the photo of Dylan and her a long instant.

Her mind imagined him remembering how she played wedding in her mama's heels. Smiling, she remembered he'd never played the game, but he'd press his nose against the window and watched. Thinking about it, she realized, Sam had watched her all his life. She'd look up from doing homework, and Sam would be quietly watching. They'd be watching cartoons and she'd turn, and Sam would be watching her. She'd be out a date, and Sam would turn up.

Without warning, he roughly sat the picture down, and looked up, his face pained, his stance rigid now. Glancing toward those white chairs and the gathered guests, he abruptly turned and violently jerked his tie loose from his neck and stormed toward the parking lot.

"Sam!"

He walked faster almost running now.

Mama called. "It's time, dear. Come inside."

"Sam." She yelled but he couldn't hear her. Standing on her tiptoes, she lost sight of him as he disappeared between the magnolias.

Her stomach churned and the urge to cry hit hard as she turned and hurried into the bedroom thinking about Sam bringing her tie tie. "Mama, Sam's leaving. He's leaving my wedding. How could he leave my wedding? Doesn't he know I want him here? Something's got to be wrong."

"Maybe he got phone call?" Mama patted her hair in the mirror.

"He wasn't talking on his phone."

"I'm sure it will be fine."

"But . . ." She wanted to chase him, to find out what was wrong but she had to marry Dylan. Her mind spun trying to lock the pieces of the puzzle that was Sam. Why the tie die? Did he want to unfriend zone her?

A small knock sounded on the door.

"Jennie? You ready?" Daddy's voice boomed from the hall.

"Come in, Daddy." Strange but yeah, she still called him daddy.

"Now I want you to stop worrying about Sam. You hardly need him to get married."

"Sam? What about Sam?" Daddy stepped in and closed the door.

"He's leaving. I saw him leave. He dropped his tie died present on the table and turned and left."

"Tie died?" Mama stiffened.

"Yeah, like the shirt I put his name on."

"Jennie." Mama cocked her head at her. "Sam's still a boy, not like the man your marrying. And we all know how that boy is?"

"Yeah, steady as a rock and just as dependable. Or how about, like the son I never had?" Daddy grinned as he kissed his wife on the cheek. "Emma, you look beautiful today as the day I married you."

"I love the way you lie." Mama said dryly but she smiled. "But no, he's flighty, a dreamer. Now you shouldn't give that boy a thought on your wedding boy. That boy's wasting his life tending bar and chasing dreams. Not at all like your Dylan."

"Dylan works too hard. I barely see him sometimes."

She remembered of all the canceled dates, all the times she sat and ate alone, and how many times she'd put off coming home in the last year because Dylan had a function and needed her to attend. He expected her dressed to the nines and hanging onto his arm at a moment's notice, and if he needed to have a party, he expected her to play host. Not to mention his political aspirations that they always fought about, since she didn't want to live a public life or be married and live alone. She frowned finding her palms wet again, and she popped out another of mama's tissues.

"Dylan's a lawyer. If he wants to advance he'll have to work hard." She pulled a few tissues out of the box and set the box down on the dresser.

"Well at least Sam works and dreams aren't a bad thing."

"We are not talking about Sam, Markus. She's not marrying Sam, thank God. She'd be the one supporting him."

"I'm sure Sam could support us."

"Singing open mike. Right. He should have stayed in college."

Daddy frowned at mama before he looked her up and down and whistled. "Look at you. You're stunning. My baby girl's all grown up."

"Oh, Daddy, you always say that." She turned her head, and he kissed her on the cheek but her mind still worried about Sam.

"You don't know how much I've dreaded giving you away. I've cherished every day with you, baby girl. You know that don't you?"

Her face warmed. "I know, Daddy, but listen? I saw Sam leave. Running almost to leave. Something has to be wrong. I'm worried."

Mama checked her perfect hair one last time. "His family's here already. I'm sure he's forgotten something in his truck. He'll be back. Now we need to go. You wouldn't want to keep that handsome young man you've caught waiting."

"Mama, he's hardly a fish. But I'm telling you, I'm worried."

Daddy offered his arm. "Come on sweetheart. He's Sam, he'll be back. That boy's never been able to stay away from you for long. I always thought."

"Markus! Dylan's waiting." Mama interrupted him sharply.

"Right. Never mind what I thought. You got a date with your groom. Let's get this done."

"You say that like walking me down the aisle's a job."

"It is, baby girl. It is." Daddy's tone dark, he offered his arm.

Chewing her bottom lip, she let mama and daddy hustle her out the door.