Melinda seemed to be frozen, as though her boots had suddenly become cement. Was this what cold feet meant? Why was it cold feet if it felt like cement? Cement wasn't particularly cold. Then Fletcher spoke in her ear and she felt a little better for it. Actually, a lot better. She was getting married, and maybe it wasn't like a fairy tale and maybe it wasn't ideal or what she had dreamed as a little girl, in fact it was impulsive and stupid and random and strange, but what else could possibly fit them better? She let Fletcher usher her through the door, squeezing Alec's hand a little.
I'm getting married, she thought, imagining that Marek could be here. I wish you were here to stand as our witness, and I know Alec does too. But Fletcher's here and I'm sure you can convince him to tell you every detail later. I'll even get divorced and re-eloped if you want. And you're still my man of honor if I ever get a real wedding. I love you. She thought hard, projecting the words as hard as she could and hoping there were no legilimens in the immediate vicinity. Not because she cared if someone heard, but because it was probably good not to psychically deafen anyone.