It had been elegant when we arrived that morning, white with gold accents and French furniture. It still had the gold accents and French furniture, but it now looked like the wreckage of a terrible bridal catastrophe. A flower girl’s dress was lying on the floor, an obvious chocolate stain rendering it useless; makeup littered every surface; a breakfast tray had toppled over on the bed and there were bright jammy smushes on the white linen. And yet Beth didn’t seem perturbed by any of this. Something else was wrong.

“Forget the favors. I need you. Close the door.”

Forget the favors? I’d spent an hour looking for those bloody little bags. Nevertheless, I stepped fully into the room and closed the door. Beth emerged from behind the screen. She was wearing sweatpants and a tank top that also had jam on it. Above the neck she was made up like a princess and she had a dozen tiny silver stars dotted through her curls.

“Why aren’t you dressed?” I asked, a note of panic finding its way into my voice too. Was she going to make a run for it? I mean, I know I hadn’t really been fully behind this marriage, nor had I really bet on it lasting, but I hadn’t even considered the possibility that they wouldn’t make it to the ceremony. Dad was going to be devastated.

Beth burst into tears.

“Uh . . . OK.” I scrambled over the debris to Beth. “Look, if you want to escape, I mean, I’m not saying it’s OK exactly, Dad will be really upset, but you shouldn’t marry someone unless you’re sure. Should I go find your aunt or do you want me to hoist you out the window?”

Beth’s aunt was downstairs in the bar, her tights balled up on the table beside her, and she was telling anyone who’d listen the most embarrassing stories about Beth. She had old-school hippie vibes and I liked her a lot even though I’d only met her a couple of days ago. I didn’t really think she’d be much help in this situation, though. Still, wedding panic seemed like a job for family. I couldn’t help but think about what it would be like if I got married. Who would talk me down off the ledge, or tie the sheets together so I could climb out the window? I shook myself, realizing I’d obviously just go through the door. I’d watched too many romantic comedies. It was affecting my brain.

Beth laughed through her tears.

“Whatever you do, do not get my aunt,” she said, one hand clutching her heart, the other stretched out in a firm stop sign, “and I’m not running away!”