Why was he nervous? He had no reason for butterflies to be assaulting his stomach quite the way they were. And then he saw her. The bride. Stunning, in a white gown with something he’d overheard her call an empire waist, she smiled at him. And just like that, the butterflies and bowtie were forgotten. Instead he had a new concern to contend with; the tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks. Her hair was pinned high on her head so it didn’t bounce around her shoulders when she tipped her head to the side with a scolding look. “Daaad. You promised not to cry.” She hiked up the bottom of her humongous skirt and marched toward him. “If you cry, then I’ll cry and four hours of makeup will be completely ruined. You don’t want that now do you?” Hutch smiled through his tears. “That’s why I’m crying. You have any idea how much that makeup lady cost?” He pulled Christina into a careful hug, mindful of all the warnings issued both by her and Carissa ever since this dress had invaded his peaceful existence.
