“Three months. You’re not showing yet, of course, but there simply isn’t any extra room in this dress for pregnancy tits. Not even first-trimester tits.”

“I’m forty-four.” Beth shook her head vehemently, as though that said it all. “OK, I’ve missed some periods, but I thought maybe it was premenopause or wedding stress or—”

“You missed your period and you didn’t think you could be pregnant?” My voice came out high-pitched and strained as I repressed the urge to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. Do not think about the possibility of a sibling in six months.

“Stranger things have happened, love. If you don’t wrap it up, you gotta deal with the consequences.” Barb said this with the kind of gravity reserved for meaningful proverbs.

“Oh, gross.” I mimed puking into the wastebasket. Though there was a distinct possibility that I would actually puke if we dwelled on this conversation too long. Do not think about Dad and Beth doing it.

“OK,” I said, my fingers on my temples, “let’s put a pin in the baby. Figuratively,” I added when Beth winced. “Is there anything we can do about the dress?”

Barb looked witheringly at me over her thick-framed glasses.

“I’m a dressmaker, dear. I always come prepared.” She patted a utility belt around her waist. Barbman to the rescue.

I was allowed approximately thirty seconds of relieved slumping against the wall in the hallway after the Beth crisis had been addressed before Oliver strode down the hallway toward me with the unmistakable air of someone on a mission. He was wearing a pretty snazzy suit that probably cost ten times more than the one Dad had on.

“Your dad is looking for you,” he said.

“Seriously? The wedding is supposed to start in ten minutes and I just got the bawling bride sewn into her dress.”

“Can I interest you in a refreshing beverage to help you through the afternoon?” He took a flask from inside his jacket pocket and unscrewed it, and a forty-year oak-matured aroma wafted under my nose.

“No, thanks. I think I’m going to need my wits about me today. Don’t classes start tomorrow? Also there’s a bar in the tent? You don’t need a hip flask.”

“Well, I don’t need it, but it makes me look cool. Besides, Trinity has freshers’ week the first week so I’m getting a head start.”

“I do need a second before I’m ready, though.” I sighed.

“Want some motivational music?” he offered.

“What?” I eyed him warily.

“To pump you up. Like when we did the running scene.”

“That was for dramatic background music.”

“I have the perfect tune,” he said, taking his phone out of his pocket. No, wait, it was my phone.

“Hey, where’d you get that?!”

“You left it downstairs. You’re welcome.”

“You better not have changed your name again.”