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now.”
    They were keeping the wedding dress under wraps in Greta’s small apartment over the hardware store her family owned, so that Miles wouldn’t see it and incur bad luck before the wedding day. But Zane had argued that it didn’t matter if he saw the dress, so he should be allowed to come along. Felicity had managed to distract him with a list of caterers to contact to find out who was available for a prestigious, high-profile wedding on short notice. But he’d be over here before she knew it, ready and raring to go on another adventure around the island. All part of his quest to teach her how to have fun. She couldn’t quite suppress a tiny smile at the thought.
    “Please don’t stop talking on my account! It seems like it’s just about to get interesting.” Greta winked in the mirror, reminding Felicity of the moment when Zane had winked at her on the helicopter.
    Everything reminded her of Zane. This was not good.
    “No,” Felicity said firmly, buttoning the top button with steady fingers. “I’m here for your final fitting, not to discuss the reception. It’ll be perfect. You don’t need to worry about it.”
    “I’m not worried about it.” Greta gave her a comfortable smile in the mirror, one work-roughened hand drifting down the fall of airy fabric draping her slim hips. “I mean, when I was a little girl I used to dream about a beach wedding, but the yacht club is almost as good. And I don’t care what happens at the reception, honestly. At that point, I’ll already be the happiest woman on the planet—I’ll be married to the man I love. And nothing that happens or doesn’t happen at some party will change that. For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, right?”
    The familiar words tied an aching knot of emotion around Felicity’s vocal cords. She’d been around a lot of brides, some more gushy and head over heels than others. But she’d never planned the wedding of any couple as clearly made for each other as Greta and Miles. These two would go the distance, Felicity was sure—although, from the spasm of sadness that crossed Greta’s face, maybe the bride needed a little reminder.
    Her hands stilling on Greta’s lace-clad shoulders, Felicity smiled at the lovely bride in the mirror. “You and Miles are going to have a wonderful life together. Because you’re not getting married to tick off a box on your list of life goals, or to have the excuse to throw a fabulous party. You actually want to spend your lives leaning on each other and supporting each other through whatever comes. Couples like that are rarer than you might think, but I know them when I see them. My parents are like you and Miles.”
    Lips trembling, Greta tried to return the smile but couldn’t quite pull it off. She murmured, “In sickness and in health. Except most people who make that vow don’t have a lifetime of sickness behind them, and the certainty of more in their future.”
    Felicity froze, recognition stinging through her like the crack of a whip. “You…”
    “Kidney disease,” Greta confirmed briefly, reaching for the box of tissues on the old-fashioned vanity. “I had a transplant when I was a teenager, but that won’t keep me healthy forever. Miles swears he knows what he’s getting into, but how could he?”
    Everything about this conversation hit way too close to home. Scrambling for the composure and the sympathetic wisdom she’d been called on to offer many a bride or groom with cold feet, Felicity said, “No one knows exactly what they’re getting into when they get married.”
    “I love him so much.” Greta glared at herself in the mirror, dabbing at the corner of one eye and making a face that said she didn’t like to cry. “And I know he loves me. But sometimes I worry that if I really loved him, I wouldn’t let him tie himself to a woman who might turn into an invalid without warning.”
    “That’s not your choice to make,” Felicity pointed out. “It’s his.