Ten minutes before our wedding, I heard my fiancé tell his sister, “Don’t worry about daycare anymore. Natalie will take care of all three kids starting Monday.”

“Wait. Nobody’s canceling anything.”

I turned.

“I am.”

His expression hardened.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

“Over babysitting?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

I met his eyes.

“Because you knew I might say no, so you made the decision without me and tried to make sure I couldn’t change it.”

He began to respond, but I continued.

“That’s not how I want to start a marriage.”

Reverend Thomas arrived shortly afterward.

He was a kind man in his sixties who’d spent the past month helping us prepare our vows.

He examined our faces.

“Would you like a few minutes alone to talk?”

“We already talked,” I said.

He nodded.

“Are you asking to postpone the ceremony?”

I looked toward Seth.

He seemed convinced I would eventually stop being unreasonable.

“No,” I said.

“I’m asking you to tell everyone there won’t be a wedding.”

Seth muttered a curse.

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