“What’s up?” Hannah asked Dawn unsteadily, her eyes shifting in anticipation of whatever scolding the matron of honor was going to deliver. Dawn’s eyes were tight, her lips pursed. With no warning, she grabbed both of Hannah’s pinky fingers, one with each hand.

“Stop that right now,” Dawn barked in a whisper.

“Stop what?” Hannah asked, stunned.

“Look what you’re doing,” Dawn continued more quietly, turning Hannah’s palms face down so the she could see the tops of her nails, which had been painted red on Dawn’s orders. Hannah saw that her hands had become a mess of chipped polish. Thanks to the color, it looked like her largest digits were bleeding.

Dawn dropped Hannah’s hands and lifted her face by her chin. She moved in close so they were eye to eye, close enough for a kiss. On any other day, Dawn was at least two inches shorter than Hannah, but in the stiltlike heels the maid of honor had chosen to wear to compensate for her long dress train, she towered over Hannah by at least an inch.

“Can I be honest with you?” Dawn whispered, her fingers still clutching Hannah’s chin, her tone sweet but severe. Hannah didn’t answer. Her eyes were wide, her face flushed. She simply nodded in agreement.

Dawn responded by saying nothing. She stared into Hannah’s eyes, surveying Hannah’s frown, her own eyes growing kinder and more sympathetic the longer she looked.

“What? What are you looking at?” Hannah asked nervously. Her words ran together as she moved her head back and forth, trying to free her face from Dawn’s grip.

“I’m sorry about the nails,” Hannah continued quickly. “I didn’t even know I was doing it. I’m not used to nail polish. No one will be able to see. I’ll hide my hands in the pictures, I swear.”

“It’s not the nails, baby,” Dawn interrupted, dropping her hand from Hannah’s chin and grabbing her by the pinkies again, this time squeezing them with force. “I’m upset, baby, because you’re stressing everybody out. Bee is going to have to walk down the aisle in just a few more minutes, and you’re in the corner of the room, alone, looking out the window like you’re some sort of deranged serial killer who’s going to pull out a gun and start shooting the guests.”

Dawn moved to Hannah’s side and leaned in so her mouth was at Hannah’s ear. “This is not about you right now,” Dawn whispered, her lips touching Hannah’s earlobe. Hannah winced at the contact. Dawn continued unfazed. “Can you stop thinking about yourself and focus on your friend? Can you focus on Bee right now, honey?”

Hannah’s eyes moved to Bee, who, on the other side of the pristine penthouse, looked like a porcelain doll. Her eyes were closed now as Jackie and Lisa shuffled around her, bending over awkwardly to fluff the bottom of her dress. Bee’s lips moved silently as she rehearsed lines, presumably the vows she’d written herself. Hannah could sense Bee’s anticipation of the performance to come. She hated speaking in front of people. She’d struggled with it in law school, often calling Hannah for tips from the theater world. Hannah had always told her to pretend she was someone else. “You’re a lawyer. So just walk up to the podium and imagine that you’re…Susan Dey from LA Law.”