Hannah also admitted to herself that as much as she despised Dawn in most ways, the pageant coach was strangely familiar to her. And that morning after the bachelorette party, as Hannah watched Dawn groom herself carefully before checking out of the hotel, Hannah realized why. Back in New York, Hannah was almost always surrounded by actors, attention-seeking pretty people she’d cast in commercials and movies. They weren’t real friends.

Hannah knew that most of the actors who took her to restaurants and gave her free theater tickets were only interested in spending time with her because they wanted more work.

But Hannah had grown used to keeping these disingenuous actors close, especially since Tom had left. They always offered her something to do on the weekends.

At parties she would find the worst of them, the most wickedly adorable and judgmental actor, usually a gay man, and cling to him. It was her way of ensuring that she would be entertained throughout the night, and that she’d keep herself from becoming his target. In the context of Bee’s wedding, Dawn was the closest thing to the meanest, most adorable gay man that Hannah could find. “If I think of her as a drag queen, I kind of like her,” Hannah explained to Vicki on the phone after the bachelorette party weekend. “As a gay man, she’s almost loveable.”

“Everything you’re telling me sounds moderately homophobic. And this Dawn person sounds horrendous,” Vicki had responded. “Keep me away from her in Annapolis. I won’t be able to forget that she’s a woman. And I certainly won’t be able to forget that Bee is now best friends with a beauty queen.”

The beauty queen thing no longer bothered Hannah. If her goal was to devastate Tom by presenting herself as an ideal partner, someone who could be played by Emily Blunt, she needed professional help. She needed a pageant coach.

Now, at the country club in Annapolis, sitting like a puppy dog at Dawn’s side, Hannah watched as the matron of honor opened up a second pastel-colored tackle box filled with even more makeup. On the side of the box was a bumper sticker that said “MRV.”

“What does that stand for?” Hannah asked, pulling her hair back so that Dawn could get a better look at her face.

“Miss Roanoke Valley, which I was,” Dawn said proudly. “And I was also first runner-up in the Miss Virginia pageant.”

“Wow,” Hannah said, surprised at herself for being legitimately impressed. “Wasn’t it weird? I mean, when you were a kid, did you want to do the pageant thing or did your mom make you?”

“Not that it’s wrong,” Hannah added, softening the question. “It just seems like a lot of pressure for a little kid.”

“Can I be honest with you? Honestly, I loved it. I was a natural. I know the media makes it look awful—the JonBenét incident didn’t help—but really it’s about self-esteem and womanhood. It’s about loving yourself.”

“I see,” Hannah said, her voice soft.