“Okay, then. Hurry up, everyone. Lisa’s going to be first. Then Jackie. Then Hannah. Then Dawn. Then Bee. When you hear me say go, you can take off one by one. Remember to wait three full seconds between each step. Count one Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi. Your groomsman will be waiting for you at the bottom of the staircase. Bee, your dad is right at the bottom of the spiral stairs, behind the other guys. He’ll grab you as soon as you make it onto the grass.”

In line Hannah squeezed her sweaty palms into fists. She arched her back and bent to the right of Jackie so she could see Bee, who stood as close to Dawn as possible.

“Bee!” Hannah said, too loud again.

Bee looked forward at Hannah, her smile tense. “What, Hannah?”

“You look fucking amazing,” Hannah said gruffly, her hand on her chest with pride. “Never listen to your mother. You’re a fucking knockout.”

“Thank you,” Bee responded stiffly.

“Now!” commanded Bonnie Hunt. The march down the spiral staircase began, just as Hannah began to feel really, really dizzy.

Joe

It had all happened so quickly. One minute she was a stranger and the next she was by his side, their shoulders touching. It had started when he left his hotel room, the door making a loud click behind him. It was then that he heard her voice. She was muttering profanities to herself. He’d only spoken to her for a few seconds in the lobby before he’d ruined things, but he knew it was Vicki. His heart had thudded loud in his chest. He hadn’t expected to see her until he arrived at the wedding.

He turned to the right and there she was, standing just two rooms away, with both of her hands in her small purse as she mumbled expletives. “Goddamn it,” she said.

She was oblivious to his presence. She quickly dropped to a squat and dumped the contents of her handbag onto the floor in front of her room. There wasn’t much to see—lipstick, car keys, a cell phone, a paperback book. She grimaced and let out one more “shit,” before collecting her belongings. Once she was upright again, she began striding toward the lobby.

“Hi,” Joe said, tentatively calling out to her. She whipped her head back in his direction.

“Hi?” Vicki answered as if it were a question, squinting to identify who she was talking to.

“It’s Bee’s uncle, Joe,” Joe said, with a half smile, his forehead tense. “You know…from the lobby.” His fingers fumbled, causing him to drop the keys to his rental car. He bent carefully to pick them up, silently praying that his suit wouldn’t rip. Vicki, having gathered her belongings, took two steps toward him and gave him a weak smile.

“I’m sorry. I don’t have my glasses on. And I’m sorry for the foul language. I left my room key on my dresser,” she said, her right hand clutching the tiny purse covered in shiny black beads.