Zachary drove me to a quiet coffee shop near the riverwalk, far from the venue.

I sat there in my rumpled bridal gown; he sat across from me in the same faded shirt he had worn all morning waiting for news about his daughter.

“Paisley’s resting comfortably in the ICU,” he said gently, sliding a warm cup of coffee across the table to me.

“Her recovery outlook is very strong.”

And for the first time in that entire catastrophic day, I let out a long breath and felt the tension drain out of my shoulders.

“Then everything that happened today was worth it,” I said.