I open my mouth to answer her, but the words get lodged in my throat.

Her expression softens, and she holds out her hands as if trying to calm a wild animal. “Listen, I for one think it totally works. He’s always been a little dark and mysterious, and you have that misunderstood side to you too. At first, I was shocked, but now I get it. Of course, I want all the details…when you’re ready to share them. Like what is he like behind closed doors? I don’t think I’ve ever had a proper conversation with the guy.”

I force a laugh.

“It’s…unexpected,” I say, deciding the best course of action for now is to keep it vague.

“Well if you’re happy, I’m happy. And naturally I’ll be there tonight.”

I smile and nod then set my purse behind the counter.

“Good. Now put me to work.”

I distract myself at Morgan’s until half past 4 o’clock, at which point my grandmother and Margaret insist I need to get home so I can start getting ready for the party. The house is no less crowded when I walk into the foyer. If anything, the madness has only ratcheted up tenfold. Fortunately for me, Margaret has directed my hair and makeup team up to my room so I miss most of the last-minute frenzy.

I sit at my vanity, letting the professionals work. They sense I’m in a quiet mood and don’t press me for small talk. I’m immensely grateful because my nerves have set in. Even resting on my lap, my hands still shake. I try to clench my fists to disguise it, but I worry everyone still notices.

When I’m done with makeup and they’re putting the finishing touches on my hair, Margaret knocks and enters. “Here, dear. It’s lavender honey tea with a little something to take the edge off.”

When I take a sip, it’s so delicious I hardly taste the vodka.

She winks and steps back to sit down on my bed. While they untwist my hair from the curlers, she smiles approvingly but says nothing else. I love that about her—her ability to offer silent support. Just her presence is a comfort.

“Your dress is stunning. Do you like it?”

It’s a white silk draped gown that will hug my figure and dip low in the back, a classic style that would look good on anyone. There’s nothing not to like.

I smile and nod, knowing Margaret had a hand in selecting it for me.

“It’s lovely. Thank you. Help me put it on?”

The others pack up their things—the makeup palettes and brushes and hair pins and hair spray—and then they vacate the room so it’s just Margaret and me as I slip into the gown and stand in front of the mirror. She zips it up then drops her hands to my shoulders.

“Look at you. I can’t imagine a more beautiful bride.”

I hate that tears spring to my eyes.

She squeezes my shoulders and then moves away, giving me a moment to gather myself before reaching for my shoes.