Nathan’s P.O.V

I stood at the aisle, my palms sweating against the fabric of my suit, even though I had been told a dozen times by the best man to relax, to breathe, to stop looking like I was about to faint. I couldn’t help it. My eyes kept flicking toward the doors at the back of the hall, even though I knew there was still time before Sophia would walk through them.

“She’s not late,” my best man whispered with a grin, nudging me lightly in the ribs.

“I ...