My Husband Was Pulling On His Pants When I Came Home With Our Baby’s Ultrasound—My Best Friend Was Hiding Behind My Maternity Coats

As the date of our backyard wedding approached, a strange, residual anxiety began to settle over me. It wasn't about Owen—I loved him with every fiber of my being—but weddings, by their very nature, are a theatrical display of trust.

My first wedding had been a grand, hollow spectacle. Claire had been my maid of honor. She had stood beside me, holding my bouquet, while secretly harboring a jealousy that would eventually lead her to my husband's bed.

One evening, while Owen was putting Leo to sleep, I sat on the living room floor, surrounded by fabric swatches and catering menus. My chest felt tight, my breathing shallow.

Owen walked downstairs, noticing my posture immediately. He didn't say a word. He simply sat down on the floor beside me, pulling me into his lap and rubbing my back in slow, soothing circles.

"It’s happening again, isn't it?" he whispered.

"I’m sorry," I mumbled, burying my face in his neck. "I love you so much, Owen. But every time I look at a guest list or a menu, I just... I remember the look on Claire's face when she held that camisole. I remember how she smiled at me while planning my baby shower."

"Nora, look at me," Owen said, gently lifting my face. "We are not them. This isn't a show for the high-society crowd. There is no maid of honor. There is no best man. It’s just our children, your father, and a couple of friends who stood by us when the world fell apart."

He took my hand, placing it over his heart. "I am not Damon. I don't want your money, I don't want a double life. I just want to wake up next to you every morning for the rest of my life."

"I know," I said, a tear escaping and sliding down my cheek. "I know you do."

"We can cancel the ceremony if it’s too much," he offered genuinely. "We can go to city hall tomorrow morning in our jeans. Just you, me, and the kids."

I looked at him, seeing the absolute sincerity in his eyes. He was willing to give up the wedding he wanted just to spare me a moment of anxiety. That was the difference between a man who loved you and a man who owned you.

"No," I said, wiping my eyes and smiling. "I want the garden. I want the apple tree. And I want to wear a beautiful dress."