Joe took a deep breath and asked if she had a gig nearby. Maybe he could sneak out of the wedding early to see it.

“No, it’s just a hobby,” the woman explained. “I’m here for a wedding.”

Joe relaxed, now sure that he wouldn’t have to let her out of his sight. He introduced himself as Bee’s uncle, Joe, and suddenly regretted that he made himself sound so old.

“I’m Vicki,” she said, and then she continued—but Joe could no longer hear.

It had been more than possible for Joe to skip this wedding. In fact, Donna had probably expected that he would blow it off to avoid the East Coast and his family responsibilities at all costs. And yet he’d purchased a ticket, booked a rental car, and reserved a hotel room with months to spare, as soon as he’d received the invitation. He assumed his uncharacteristic enthusiasm about the wedding had something to do with his love for Bee, who had always been so smitten with him when she was a child. But perhaps there was a cosmic reason for him to be here. And perhaps there was more to his decision not to bring Sarah than a simple avoidance of commitment. Joe was a spiritual person. Not superstitious, but a believer in karma and fortuitousness. Maybe there was a greater purpose to all this, he thought, rubbing his moist hands on the side of his pants.

His head pounded. He looked down, quickly surveying what he was wearing and what Vicki—this new Vicki—might think of it. Tailored gray pants. A weathered white T-shirt under a blazer. It was fine. He looked up, suddenly aware that it must be time for him to respond to whatever this Vicki had been saying, but by the time he raised his eyes all he saw was the bulky shape of the guitar case moving along ahead of him. Just as he jerked forward, she turned the corner and disappeared.

Hannah

Hannah was made up now, eyeliner on, staring out the window onto the country club’s lawn. She squinted to identify every ant-sized person with dark hair, to see if it was Tom. One dark-haired ant was a maybe. But looking closer she noticed that the man’s shoulders were too broad and his stride too short to be Tom. Her stomach settled with a mixture of disappointment and relief as she observed the now-unfamiliar man take a seat with the groom’s family. The agony would continue.

With only twenty minutes to spare before the start of Bee and Matt’s afternoon wedding ceremony, most of the guests had arrived at the Tower Gardens Country Club, where they now circled the rows of white seats like vultures in formal wear. They paused in pairs to have quiet conversations about whether it would be more comfortable to sit up front, close to the makeshift altar where it would be easier to hear the vows, or in the back, where they’d have better access to the bathrooms.