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The day I tried on my wedding dress, I was running late because of traffic. By the time I arrived, the dress I'd spent months picking out was already on Charlotte Lane, my fiancé Edward Foster's assistant. She clung to Edward's arm, pouting. "The hem is way too long. I'm gonna trip in it." The designer quickly jumped in, "Want me to adjust it for you, Mrs. Foster?" Edward nodded. "Yeah, tweak it for her." I pushed the door open, cool as a cucumber. "Oh, the bride is indeed the prettiest," I smiled, my eyes landing on Charlotte. "Congrats on your wedding."