“Triple fisting?” Phil asked nervously, suddenly concerned that she might get sick right in front of him. “You okay?”

The bridesmaid’s smile turned sheepish, her eyes revealing panic.

“I look terrible, don’t I?” she asked pleadingly. “I look crazy, right? How terrible do I look?”

Phil didn’t know what she meant exactly, because he had no basis for comparison. He’d only seen this woman in person once before, earlier that night, as she walked down the aisle during the wedding ceremony. Despite the perspiration, he thought she was very attractive.

“You look a little flustered, I guess. You look like you might be coming down with something—or like you had too much to drink.”

“I’ve just had too much wine and an allergy pill and some other pills,” she explained almost apologetically. “I should probably head back to the hotel and pass out.”

“But you’d miss the cake,” Phil said, suddenly not wanting his new companion to leave.

The bridesmaid’s eyes widened, her smile childlike. “You’re right. I want cake.”

“Me too,” Phil said. “That’s why I’m still here.”

“I’m Hannah,” the bridesmaid said. “You’re a friend of the groom, I presume?”

Phil shook his head, grinning. “Not really.”

“The bride, then? You’re related to Bee?”

“Never met the bride,” Phil said, enjoying his temporary mysteriousness.

“Crashing, then?”

Hannah put her hands around her tall glass of Diet Coke as she swung her legs back and forth. Phil decided to stop giving her a hard time. “My mom is an old friend of the groom’s mom. It was actually my mom who was supposed to come today, but she got sick, so she asked me to come in her place.”

“That’s odd,” Hannah said, her head cocked to the side.

“My mom didn’t want to waste the food,” Phil explained, realizing how strange it all sounded as soon as he said it. “She wanted someone to represent the family. I guess it is sort of weird. She just really loves the Fees, so she wanted someone to be here for them. Not like they need it. There are, like, five hundred Fees at this wedding.”

Hannah took a sip of soda. “It’s actually nice that your mom made you go.” She suddenly shot him an accusing look. “Actually, it would be nicer if you were representing your family at the wedding—instead of watching football in the bar.”

“Fair enough,” Phil said, his body now turned to face Hannah, his back to the old men, who, Phil figured, were probably now discussing his powers of seduction. “But you’re hiding here too.” Phil flashed his eyes nervously at the television. “And if it makes you feel any better, I’m about to lose a bet on this game. So it’s not like I’m having any fun back here.”

Hannah was puzzled. “What do you mean? Like, you put money on this game? The one that’s on right now?” She glanced at the television.

“Yeah. In about two minutes I’ll lose more than two thousand dollars,” Phil said, suddenly finding it harder to force a smile.