That’s when I notice I’ve stopped making progress in the sand toward the boat. I must look like a startled cat. “I’m just nervous,” I tell her, licking lips gone dust dry. “What if something goes wrong?”

She smiles. “Years from now, you’ll be able to look back on this day and laugh. No matter what happens.” So she thinks today has disaster potential, too.

“Laugh at how I sobbed myself to sleep on my wedding day?”

She grasps a tendril of my hair being thrown around in the breeze and tucks it behind my ear. “In a few hours, all this will be behind you. Just hang on for a few more hours. And it’s not likely you’ll be sleeping anyway—”

“Mom!”

We take a few more steps and start up the plank, the heat of my blush creeping down my neck and up to my ears. Rayna has already disappeared inside the cabin. We hear the sound of something heavy being mishandled, possibly dropped.

“How has school been?” Mom says quickly. “Are your professors nice? Is Galen adjusting to college life?” This isn’t the first time we’ve had this conversation, but the questions must come easily to her, just as the answers come easily to me. It’s effortless chit-chat, which is what we both need right now.

“It’s fine. I have a few cool professors, and then there are some who act like morticians. Galen … Galen is being a good sport.” He’s great at his classes and politely evading the female population of Monmouth University. His weaknesses are not quite being able to choke down the cafeteria food and keeping his fists to himself when an intoxicated undergrad propositions me.

But he’s getting better. With the cafeteria food.

Once inside the boat, I follow Mom down the narrow hallway that leads to a rickety set of winding stairs, which takes us down to the next floor. At the bottom is one big room, probably meant for entertaining but that is now repurposed for the singular objective of prepping me for my wedding ceremony.

And it’s beautiful.

The carpet is sprinkled with flower petals, and there are black and white and violet balloons floating everywhere in different states of levitation. Matching streamers hang from the ceiling, along with crystalline balls, which cast a kaleidoscope of light spinning around the room. It’s all basic party gear, and taken separately it might be considered cheesy, but taken as a whole—including the fact that Mom and Rayna got along long enough for this to be done for me—brings it to a new level of special.

“Wow,” is all I can get out. Mom is pleased.

Rayna grins. “It’s going to be a girl party. You’ll see. Your mom brought all my nail polish, and I found these super-shiny shells by the reef that I think would go great in your hair.” Without asking, she comes right up to me, grabs a painful handful of hair, then pulls it back toward the crown of my head. “I’m thinking an updo like this. And forget the tiara. That’s too fancy for Galen.”

“I agree,” Mom says, but she won’t make eye contact with me.

Oh schnap.

* * *

The mirror must be mistaken. The girl in the reflection cannot possibly be me. Because the girl staring back at me looks so … so … glamorous. But in ways that are so subtle I wouldn’t have thought the sum of the parts could ever equal this whole image. The tiny shells in my hair—which is swept back into submission and curled into soft ringlets—look like shimmering gems in the light of the cabin. Though Mom took the simple approach with my makeup, it has a certain elegance to it. A touch of blush, a few swipes of mascara, and tinted lip gloss to complete the natural effect. (She was either going for natural, or this application represents the scope of her makeup knowledge. Either way, I’m happy with it.) I’m also the grateful recipient of Rayna’s best French mani-pedi to date.

My white strapless dress falls just above the knee, hugging my curves, but the outer sheer material flows long in back, just past my ankles. I feel I’ve been transformed into a real princess, instead of just being one on a technicality.

I wonder if all brides feel this way.

“You’re gorgeous,” Mom says, and since she almost chokes on the words, I almost cry and ruin my mascara. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“You and me both.”

“Tell me about it,” Rayna says. “I never thought Galen would be able to trick anyone into mating with him.”

We all laugh then, because the idea is so ridiculous and because it’s better than crying anyway, right? Mom lets out a big breath. “Are you ready? The sun is about to set. We still have to get you through the trees to the other side.”

We walk the plank, so to speak, and plant our feet in the soft sand. I decide that whoever cleared the path from one side of the island to the other is an expert. I know the Syrena are skilled at prepping islands for mating ceremonies, but I don’t think they’ve ever prepared one quite like this—making accommodations for barefoot Half-Breeds was probably never on their to-do list before. Still, my feet encounter nothing but velvety white sand, warmed by the setting sun.

The walk is single file and quiet, Mom taking the lead, Rayna in the middle, and me last. I’m supposed to be lagging behind a little more, but it’s getting darker, and I’m just clumsy enough to trip over nothing at all, let alone some tropical obstacle blown in my way by the breeze or fate or whatever.

Through the trees ahead, I see a pathway of torches leading to the beach, to where I hear the waves lapping against the shore. Probably most beach weddings don’t lure the bride and groom to the water—but this is not most beach weddings. After all, the majority of our guest list will be attending in the shallow water, sporting fins instead of tuxedos and dresses.