Sally jumps into action. “Come on, Sandra! I’ve got to finish your hair!” Sally heads back to the corner of the room, where I can see they’ve set up a temporary vanity covered with an array of beauty products. Sandra settles into a director-style folding chair, and Sally continues winding Sandra’s shoulder-length brown hair around the barrel of the curling iron.

Hallie moves into motion as well.

“Wait, are we supposed to be in the photos?” I whisper to Hallie as she hangs her dress bag up on a curtain rod and unzips it.

“Yes.” She shoots me a Duh look.

“Why didn’t you say that earlier when I was complaining about leaving so soon?”

“I did,” Hallie replies as she pulls her black bridesmaid dress out of the bag. It’s a sensible A-line style that’s knee-length. “Good to know you weren’t listening.”

I scoff as I copy her. Once we’ve both changed, I head over to the full-length mirror to apply some mascara and lip gloss. I brush my hair and survey my appearance. I still love the dress I chose from Beck’s kitchen counter. I opted for a one-shoulder design with a tight bodice. It’s floor-length, but the flowy chiffon is asymmetrical, showing off flashes of my tan legs every time I move.

“Don’t you look lovely!” Sandra says, coming up behind me. She’s changed into her wedding dress, which is a simple white slip with a lace overlay.

“Thank you,” I respond. “You do, too.”

She beams. “Thank you. And, Saylor, about last night…”

“It’s fine,” I interrupt. I hate apologies. Receiving and giving them. “Don’t worry about it.”

Maybe Sandra feels the same because she looks massively relieved when I cut her off.

“Everyone ready?” Sally calls from the vanity. She’s changed as well, into a cap-sleeved dress that falls to mid-calf.

“Ready!” Hallie replies.

We file out of the room and back into the hallway. There’s only one door farther down the hallway on the opposite side, and Sally heads through it first, revealing that it leads out into the gardens behind the church. There’s a stone courtyard in the center, surrounded by an explosion of lush greenery with scattered dots of color provided by the few remaining blooms. My father is already standing in the courtyard, along with my Uncle Jerry and two older men I vaguely recognize as his work partners.

“Isn’t it bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding?” I whisper to Hallie.

She gives me a dubious glance. “You’re superstitious?”

“I’m an athlete.” Still a blank stare. I sigh. “Never mind.”