Chapter 83: AT LAST . . .

TWO YEARS AFTER THE KISS IN THE PARK . . . .

It is a beautiful day in London. I waited in Holland Park, wearing an ivory gown made of chiffon so soft that I can't stop myself from touching it. The dress comes to a V in the back, and the front is gathered over the bust-line and accented with a shimmering of beads. The skirt is a loose A-line—romantic and simple—and it sways just right in the breeze. The lady at Kensington bridal shop told me that the design was inspired by the Edwardian era—which sounds like something Andrew will love. It was the first dress I tried on, but when you know something is right, you just know.

As the string quartet begins to play, I peeked around the corner of the Belvedere, into the gardens, allowing myself a glimpse of Andrew. We've only been apart twenty-four hours, but for us, it is a long stretch that feels like a decade. Whether it is our separation, his Armani suit, or the emotion of the day, he has never looked more handsome. I feel a tightening in