"We don't need you to drive us to the airport, Mom. Everything is fine, and we've already rented a car," I say, aware that only about half of the people are actually listening while the others scramble to pack at the last minute. "But we want to be there to see you off," my mother insists, her voice leaving no room for argument. She called to ask for directions on where to meet us. "We?" I ask, trying to make her tone less pleading. "Yes, all of us. Will, Will, Hannah, and I. We all want to see you off," she declares as if there were no other option. "We'll see each other at the wedding in six weeks. Plus, we just saw each other yesterday. We swam, talked, and did all sorts of things," I reply, now not even bothering to pack, but instead, trying my best to dissuade my mother from coming to the airport to bid us farewell. Mark exits the bathroom with his toiletry bag. "Are you still getting ready?" he asks, his tone implying, "You're taking forever." "I'm on the phone with my mom!

The next morning, I was roused from my slumber by my dad's off-key singing and the scent of inexpensive candle wax, the kind they use for birthday candles. We have a tradition in our family where, on birthdays, you place a candle on your favorite breakfast item. Both my dad and I share a love for oversized cinnamon rolls. Even though I'm no longer tired, I resist the urge to get out of bed. "Happy birthday! Happy birthday to... you. Happy birthday, smiley Alyanna. Hey, it's your birthday!" My dad sings with an accompanying dance, clearly in high spirits. I sit up and spot a plate piled high with mega cinnamon rolls, complete with a candle planted firmly in the middle. My dad beams at me. "Thanks, Dad," I say, moving in for a hug. "Thank you, sweetie. Now, make a wish and blow out the candle." My dad nudges the plate closer to me. I close my eyes, make a small wish, and blow out the candle. "Can we dig in now? I'm famished," I ask, already dipping my finger into the frosting. "Of

When a slow song starts playing, we part ways. "Want to dance?" Mark suggests as we catch our breath. "Sure," I agree, and we make our way to the dance floor. It's like a scene from that movie "A Cinderella Story," where Austin told Mark they should meet under the disco ball. What a coincidence. Austin's appearance reminds me of Tristan from the early episodes of Gilmore Girls, but then my thoughts wander to Lauren Graham, and from there, I somehow end up thinking about the movie Middle School: The Worst Years of My Life, which had a cute dog named Calvin. That, in turn, triggers memories of my old dog, Pat, who was just like that. I snap out of my thoughts before the song ends, realizing that Mark and I are closer than ever. When the music stops, we decide to take a break and chat with other people. Mark heads off to find Charlie, and I seek out someone I can tolerate, at least for a little while. I wander around aimlessly until Max approaches me. "Heey, boo boo," he slurs, clearl

Day before the wedding: "Why do I have to go for a manicure today?" I inquire as Maya ushers me into the car. "Because your hands need to look their best for the photos," she explains, sliding into the driver's seat. In one car, Abby, Maya, Sophie, and I are squeezed together, while in another, my mom, Hannah, and Kelly, Mark's cousin, are riding. "But what if I don't care about looking good?" I whine as I slump down into my seat. "Nope, no exceptions. And sit up, we can't have you getting into a car accident the day before your wedding," Maya insists as she pulls out of the driveway. "You'd be the one to kill me, you're the one driving," I quip, sitting up. "Quit it. You know what I mean. Plus, you might end up liking it," Maya says with a hint of optimism. I didn't like it at all. It felt strange. She massaged my hands and performed all sorts of nail procedures that were slightly uncomfortable. Then came the acrylic nails, followed by the painting, whatever a 'French tip' is.

"Now, I'd like to invite the newlyweds to join us on the dance floor for their first dance as husband and wife," announces the MC over the microphone. "Wise men say only fools rush in," I whisper to Mark as the music begins. "But I can't help falling in love with you," he responds with a smile. "Did you choose this song?" I inquire. "Elvis is also one of my favorites," he confesses. We continue to dance and smile as the song plays. A few dances later... "Now, I'd like to invite the bride and her dad for the father-daughter dance," the MC announces. "You're not going to start crying because of this, are you?" I tease my dad, knowing how emotional this song always makes him. "No," he sniffs. "I'll be okay." "Are you sure? Because the part that always gets you is coming up," I jest, trying to lighten the mood. "Yes, I'm sure," he says, holding back his tears. But he can't hold back, and he breaks down, but it's all right because the song shifts, and it's about all dads and daug