When the photographer signalled a wrap for the initial shots, Mark and I exchanged one last glare, each of us practically radiating silent disdain whenever we were out of the photographer's line of sight. It was almost a game at this point—one I wasn't about to lose.
After that section of the shoot, we were both sent off to change into different outfits. I was handed a choice of wedding dresses, and after sorting through the racks, I picked out a sleek, understated gown.
I wanted to get this over with, but I had to admit, it was a classic dress that I might have imagined myself in under different circumstances.
The makeup artist met me in the room, helping with my hair and makeup while I slipped into the dress. She was cheerful and chatty, giving suggestions on different looks, though I could only half-listen, my mind elsewhere as she worked on adjusting my veil and smoothing the fabric of the dress.
