Thank you so much for your patience and kindness and for sticking with this story! This is a rather short chapter but I promise I will update again very soon with part 2 of our Gleggie wedding! I hope you enjoy it, let me know what you think!

"Found it! We're at table four," She held up the card with their names on it, a happy grin on her face.

Carol was dragging him through the crowd of people trying to find their table. He would have been complaining about the whole thing, except he was too busy watching her ass and legs. He'd never seen her in a dress before. Or in shoes like that.

He honestly didn't know how they had made it to the wedding in one piece, he'd been so damned distracted, he could barely keep his eyes on the road. Every few minutes they would drift to her side of the truck, to the hem of her dress that had inched its way up when she sat, or to the navy blue fabric pulled taut across her breasts. Jesus Christ, that woman would be the death of him.

So lost in his thoughts, he hadn't even realized that they had stopped moving until his chest bumped her shoulder blade, his eyes moving down to the exposed skin of her back. 'Real great, now ya got a hard on, real fuckin nice Dixon,' Daryl continued to mentally berate himself while introductions were made. He wasn't even paying attention to the names, he was focusing on keeping his body behind Carol, attempting to hide the obvious bulge in his pants . The bald black guy had extended a hand for Daryl to shake, forcing him to lean forward against Carol. Judging from the way her head whipped back to look at him, his erection wasn't much of a secret anymore. He gave a quiet, muttered, "Sorry," as he quickly took the seat next to her.

Carol's face was flushed, she was biting at her lip, attempting to smother the wide grin that was trying to break through. She hadn't expected such a reaction over her dress. When she bought it, she had of course wondered what Daryl would think. She was very pleased with her choice.

The ceremony had been quick, the preacher mentioned a few words about love, a few words about God, and had the whole thing over within ten minutes. After the short ceremony all of the guests had walked toward the field where they had a big white canvas tent set up for the reception. There was a bar and a dance floor beneath the rows of softly lit paper lanterns. The head table was clad in crisp white linens and fresh bouquets in mason jars. The big farmhouse turned out to be the perfect location for a wedding. Carol couldn't believe how beautiful everything was, Maggie really outdid herself.

Carol was discussing Maggie's dress with two of the women at the table, her hand resting on Daryl's thigh, when the bride and groom finally made their appearance. Everyone stood to clap and cheer on the couple as they made their way to the big table at the front of the tent. Before they could even sit down, the clinking of knives on champagne glasses could be heard, prompting a kiss from the newlyweds.

"Oh, she looks so beautiful," Carol wiped at a stray tear, so happy for her friend.

Daryl had watched the entrance as well, and he hated to admit it but the loud mouth did look nice. But not like Carol, no one could ever compare to her. Leaning toward her, his gruff voice quiet so only she could hear, "Yeah but not like you. Aint nobody pretty like you."

Her head ducked shyly before meeting his eyes, smiling at him warmly. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, not caring that he'd be embarrassed. They spoke in hushed tones, heads bent, sitting close during dinner. They didn't notice the rest of the table smiling at them, watching them with curiosity and fondness. Everyone at the table had known Carol for years and were glad to see her so happy. They had all been a bit surprised by her date even though they had heard from Maggie that he was an odd man, rough around the edges. But he was good to Carol and that's all they needed to know.

"Well if it isn't little Nurse Peletier…"

Carol looked up at the sound of the familiar voice, "Dr. Greene," her face broke into a wide grin as she jumped up to give the white haired man a hug. Carol turned back to Daryl to make introductions, "Daryl this is Maggie's father, Herschel Greene. He worked at St. Joe's before he retired."

The older man extended a hand, all the while seeming to size up the gruff looking man. He decided that he liked him, simply because he wasn't Ed Peletier, "I remember when your girl first started, quiet as a church mouse with all this wild, curly hair," he smiled at the younger man.

Carol gave a chuckle, "Oh lord, let's not go there."

The rest of the table had laughed along, the bald guy adding in, "Oh yeah, I think her hair was bigger than she was," he'd given the biggest chuckle, recalling their younger days.

"T, if I recall correctly, you had quite the style back then too," Carol had a hand on her hip, eyeing him mischievously, the two had known each other so long that they both had plenty of dirt on each other. Carol looked to Daryl, who seemed to be lost in the conversation, "We went to nursing school together," she gave a nod toward the guy everyone had been calling T-Dog.

"Humor an old man with a dance?" extending an arm to Carol, Herschel then looked to Daryl, "Mind if I borrow her for a bit?"

Carol smiled as Daryl gave a quick nod, watching Herschel lead her onto the dance floor. He felt a bit awkward now, sitting there with people he barely knew, "So yer a nurse?" the question directed at T-Dog.

Face serious, "What? Dude can't be a nurse?"

Before Daryl could utter a response, the other man cracked a smile, "I'm jus' playin' man... Yeah, me an' Carol been workin' together a long time."

The usual small talk was made, Daryl hated every second of it but was proud of himself for holding his own while Carol was away. He'd found out that the two women, Jacqui and Karen were nurses too and the older guy with the beard was a pharmacist at the hospital and had known Carol almost as long as T-Dog. He actually started to enjoy the conversation when they all started to tell him stories about Carol, things she'd done at the hospital, even about some of their crazy nights at the bar after a long shift. He knew he had one hell of a woman, and he liked hearing about her from the others . His focus drifted from the conversation to the dance floor, where Carol was being spun around by a surprisingly nimble Herschel. Her face was bright and happy, laughing each time the old man twirled her around. She was like the full moon on a winter night, soft and luminous, a beacon in the cold dark. Daryl Dixon wasn't the kind of man that spoke of love and romance. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he knew what love was but he knew that what he felt for Carol was like nothing he'd ever experienced before.

His romantic musings were interrupted by the woman herself landing heavily in her chair, out of breath, "Just because my feet hurt now doesn't mean you're gonna get out of dancing with me later."

"Yer feet hurt 'cause ya wearin' them fuckin' crazy shoes," he gave a nod, gesturing toward the nude pumps she was wearing, trying to ignore her comment about dancing.

The heels were much higher than what Carol would have normally worn but they went with the navy lace dress perfectly. And it didn't hurt that they made her legs look a mile long. Plus the look on Daryl's face had made every blister worth it. She smiled at him wickedly, leaning into his shoulder, "You like these shoes."

His face flooded with color, his head bent bashfully. He did like those shoes, it surprised him how much he liked those shoes, he liked the way they made her legs look. He'd already thought about running his hands up those legs. He'd start at the bottom, hand wrapped tightly around her delicate ankle, then he'd work his way up. Move up her smooth calves, pausing at her knees to squeeze them lightly, and then continue his way up her shapely thighs, his hands going to places he'd yet to explore. He wondered what panties she was wearing, the night of the bachelorette party he'd caught a glimpse of the green lacy ones. Maybe they were blue tonight, to match her dress. Maybe they were lacy like the other ones had been. He was suddenly struck with the image Carol in a pair of lacy blue panties and those fuckin shoes.

He gave her a smirk, "Yeah, I like yer shoes."