“I think he already found one,” Ruby mused, and we all looked back at the bar. Barbara had sidled up to him and it looked like he was ordering her a drink.

“Not a bad match,” I conceded, taking a sip of Ruby’s drink. “I give it a couple of weeks before it implodes.”

Izzy frowned. “Aw, no, they’re so cute.”

“Saying old people are cute is infantilizing,” Hannah said.

We glanced back at Morris and Barb. He had his hand on her butt.

“I hope they use protection,” Hannah added seriously. “Chlamydia is on the rise in older populations.”

Izzy spluttered into her drink. “Good to know.”

By ten the rain had cleared, leaving a cool, crisp night, and the marquee was all twinkly lights and cheesy music. I started to fade, my energy depleted after a day of putting out fires. The dress issue, and Dad of course, but also searching for a lost flower girl, who I found napping in the hotel under a piano, and putting Beth’s aunt to bed around eight when she was too loaded to function. I even reluctantly took part in the Macarena with Ruby because she insisted we had never got to do number five on the montage: a synchronized dance. I had to make a mental note to find Oliver and destroy his phone because I was pretty certain he’d taken video evidence.

Everyone who was still able to stand upright was on the dance floor bopping along to George Michael. I glanced at Hannah when I recognized the opening notes; it still caused me a slight twinge in my chest, but I could bear it now. I thought she caught my eye, but it might have been a coincidence. She was on the dance floor with Izzy, performing an exuberant dance routine of their own design. It involved a lift and a knee slide and there was a force field of space around them that they didn’t seem to notice. I took a photo of them. It was bittersweet, much like this whole day. I was happy that we had found a way to be friends again, but I was sad that it couldn’t be exactly the same as before.

I found Ruby on her own, sitting cross-legged on a pillow watching the dancing, her dress hitched up around her thighs and what I thought might be a third dessert sitting in her lap. I held up my camera.

“Do not take a picture of this,” she said around a mouthful of cheesecake.

“You look really beautiful,” I said in a cajoling tone.

“Oh, all right then, you charmer.” She stuck a cream-cheese-covered tongue out at me and I snapped.

I held my hand out to help her up.

“Let’s get out of here.”