“You should eat something,” she says. “My cousin refused to eat on her wedding day so she’d look skinny in her dress, but wound up literally fainting in the middle of her reception.”

“Bagel it is, then,” I say, giving her a thumbs-up.

Carmen, Sophie, Liv, and Jess are joining me in the bridal suite this morning for hair and makeup, along with the photographer. They’re not technically my bridesmaids; with a hazy sense of exactly who the groom would be, we skipped that tradition. Anyway, even if I was planning more of a conventional wedding, I don’t know if I’d want a bridal party beyond maybe Sophie as my matron of honor. Shouldn’t wedding ceremonies be solely about the two people getting married, not forcing your closest friends to line up like a MySpace Top 8 in matching outfits?

The photographer flits around the room, snapping semi-candid pictures of us getting glammed up.

There’s a knock on the door.

“Come in!” I shout from under the hands of a makeup artist dabbing concealer on my dark circles.

Mom enters the suite. It’s the first time I’ve seen her since dinner with Dad and Blake over the summer. I called my parents last week to tell them about the drastic change of plans. They didn’t quite understand why I’d want to pretend to marry a guy I’ve barely even dated, but after a long, tough conversation, they agreed to come and support the wedding.

“Think of it like that time I was in the school play,” I had explained to them. “You and I both knew I didn’t have much of a future as an actress, but you showed up with a camcorder anyway.”

Mom squeezes in between me and the makeup artist to give me a hug. “I can’t believe my baby’s all grown up and getting married!” she says. “Well, sort of married.”

“I know, Mom, I know,” I say, hugging her back.

She settles onto the edge of the bed. “So you’ll have to tell me more about this guy. Can you show me pictures?”

The makeup artist doesn’t manage to hide her shocked expression.

Once my hair and makeup are done—I asked for long, loose waves to feel like myself and a bright red lip to pop in photos—I move toward the window for the best lighting and film a quick video for Instagram Stories.

“It’s my wedding day!” I squeal. “I’m here with my friends and family in a bridal suite at the Wythe Hotel. We’re all getting ready, thanks to our amazing hair-and-makeup team provided by Glamsquad.”