30. Worry later. - Sierra

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It's seven a

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It's seven a.m. when the hotel phone softly trills, and I scramble to silence it. Although I've been up for nearly half an hour, I want Nicholas to sleep as late as he'd like. And by that, I mean he has to be up before the hour ends.

Our ceremony doesn't start until the late afternoon, but I watched him set an alarm for 7:45 in case neither of us could get out of bed.

The room is dark and cool, and the sheets wrapped around me feel like chilled silk on my naked skin. With a strong arm wrapped around my waist, Nick shifts in his sleep, mumbling. "Get the spaghetti and your cape."

On the second ring, I press my lips to his head, peeling his clamped fingers from my body. "Hey, cutie, I need to grab the phone."

Burying his face into my side, Nick groans in protest. "Tell my mom to fuck off."

"Okay." My voice is scratchy as I answer him while the phone shrieks a third time. Nick playfully attempts to pull me back into him, but I manage to knock the phone off the receiver and say good morning.

The person on the other end has clearly had six Red Bull energy drinks and ran a 5k this morning. "Good morning!" Natalia sings out. "Happy wedding day!"

"Nick says to fuck off for waking him," I tell her, rubbing my eye. Bolting up, Nick gasps. I'm surprised he can't hear Nat cackling on the other end.

"Get your ass down to the restaurant!"

She hangs up before I can mess with him anymore, and I turn to find an open-mouthed, wide-eyed fiancé. "It was Natalia," I explain.

He touches a hand to his chest with a heaving sigh before pouncing on me, digging his fingers into my ribs as I struggle to breathe while laughing.

After a short stint in the bathroom to make ourselves presentable, we make our way downstairs in slow motion.

In the restaurant, we find people in various levels of energy. Natalia and Lizzie cheer from their spots by the massive bay window, raising their arms victoriously as we enter. A refreshed Jim and Alex seem as if they've been awake for hours, sipping coffee over a lively discussion in much, much quieter tones.

Ari's head lays sideways on her folded arms, casting glances between her dwindling coffee and Michael across the table. Mike and Luke are bleary-eyed and rumpled; spooning cereal and chomping pastries.

The table's occupants brighten as we bid them good morning. "Where's your mom?" I ask Ariella, fingering the ends of her hair.

"With your mom," she answers, rubbing one of her eyes, "They're going to meet us at the salon at 9:30."

"SiSi!" Lizzie squeals, bouncing on the bench of the booth from where she and Natalia hold court with Zane and the three Pena men.

"I'd better go say hello." I cross the high-traffic carpet, weaving between empty square tables, wishing my brother and father-in-law good morning as I sail past.

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