Honestly, Rhys felt like this week between Christmas and New Years was the longest year of his life.

Between making sure everything was set for after the wedding, for the first attempt at the wedding not to happen, to attempt two to simmer down and solidify everything, he felt like his was living in a constant state of existential crisis. He couldn't crack though. He knew that Laurel Potts was just waiting for a sign of weakness, for her to slip something into his champagne and the next thing he knew he'd be dead in a bush at his own wedding.

He was exaggerating... maybe.

This time they'd gotten through it though and Rhys was exhausted, looking forward to heading back to the cottage, whether that was alone or with his new bride remained to be seen. If he survived the day... he had to stop thinking like somebody was going to murder him. Somebody would notice if the Chief Constable died at his own wedding, even if it was a rushed affair and soon enough most people would be able to tell why.

Standing off to the side, he surveyed the mood of the party. The sisters were doing their best to keep things light and airy, some happy cadence even if things were simmering under the surface. He caught Zinnia making her way over and he straightened up a little, passing her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "I hope it wasn't too disappointing."