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I was terrified to propose. But Nora said yes before I’d finished kneeling, and for months we were swept up in plans.
The three of us went dress shopping. Nora and Sarah spun before the mirrors, laughing at frilly sleeves.
“Dad, what about this one?” Sarah asked, striking a silly pose.
Nora winked at me. “She’s got style, Winston.”
That spring, our house buzzed with excitement and color-coded sticky notes.
One Saturday, Nora burst into the kitchen with a stack of shopping bags, cheeks flushed. “Guess what! Abigail’s coming to the wedding! My sister finally booked her tickets. Isn’t that great?”
She looked up, her whole face lighting up. “Really? Maybe we can both throw petals?”
Nora paused, glancing at her bags. “Actually, Sarah… I was thinking Abigail should be the flower girl. Just her.”
Sarah’s pencil froze. “But… you said I could too.”
Sarah glanced at me, frowning.