Wolff
SADIE
“Are you nervous?” Becka asked me.
I blew a shaky breath. “No. Not at all. I’m excited, unlike my first wedding. I wanted to run if there was a chance. I thought I was marrying a mafia boss.”
In a few minutes, I was going to be married to the same man—the love of my life, for the second time—this time, at the back of our house. I wasn’t wearing anything extravagant like my first wedding. This time I wore a minimalist satin-wrapped wedding dress with a hat to honor my late English father, Lewis. Last week, we found out he was buried in London. We took a quick trip and visited his grave.
“Are you ready?”
I nodded at Austin. “Yes,” I asked him if he could walk me down the aisle. He was even glad and said yes.
When the music started, I took a deep breath and
