Before You Go

chapter two

Eliza

Two weeks have passed since James and I sent out our wedding invitations and slowly but surely, they've begun to trickle in. So far, we have about seventy people attending our wedding on August seventeenth here in Whistler. We've been talking and texting to our guests nonstop for the past few days and have had barely any time alone because of the final preparations. It's been stressful for the two of us, but I'm excited for our big day. Since I was a little girl, I've always been enamoured on the concept of weddings, including the dress, the cake, the theme, et cetera. When I was a teenager, that's all I used Pinterest for.

I can't wait until our big day is here and we get to trade rings, sealing the promise with a kiss.

James and I met two years ago to the day. I had been mountain biking one of the more difficult trails early in the morning before it got too hot. When I was speeding down the final hill of the trail, I hit a rock and flipped over the handlebars of my bike. The accident was a disaster: I broke my left wrist, chipped a tooth, and had a small but very deep gash just above my right eyebrow. I was dazed, despite the protection of my helmet, so when I saw his handsome face come into view, I thought I was hallucinating.

James, who was quite familiar with mountain biking and the possible injuries that the hobby can include, carefully inspected my wounds before helping me sit up. I would have told him I was okay if I hadn't of broken my wrist and blown a tire. I was pretty battered and bruised, so I asked him if he could help me back to my vehicle, apologizing profusely for being such a bother. He told me it was no big deal and literally picked me up and sat me on the seat of his bike. He then walked his bike, with me sitting on it, down the rest of the trail and back to the parking lot. The whole time, I couldn't stop staring at the corded, contoured muscles in his biceps and forearms.

When we were back in the parking lot, he sat me in the back of his truck and cleaned me up a little using the antiseptic wipes from his first-aid kit. After that, he offered to drive me to the hospital. I tried to tell him he'd already done enough, but he insisted. I eventually caved, despite the fact that my father always told me to never get into vehicles with strangers when I was a little girl. I'll admit, I was edgy about being in the car with James – I had no idea who he was – but he was true to his word and drove me directly to the hospital. He even stayed with me until the bitter end, when the gash was stitched up and my wrist was covered by a cast. I also was carrying two slips of paper when I exited Emergency: a chalky pink one, which was a referral to a dental surgeon, and a chalky white one with a prescription for some stronger painkillers.

After the hospital, James asked me out on a date. And the rest is history. With two years behind us, we're both ready to settle down and start living our lives together.

Today is the first day we've been able to get together with our friends and not pay any attention to our upcoming wedding. The coffee table is no longer overrun by the contents of my wedding binder or empty wine glasses. Instead, it's got a bowl of bite-sized pieces of watermelon, a stunning charcuterie board, and a couple of other appetizers, as well as some expensive bottles of wine and hard liquor. It's the calm before the storm, as James jokes.