“Bet on the Rainbows,” Hannah said slowly, her eyes even glassier than they’d been a few minutes ago. “I like it. It sounds like an old country song.”

Phil smiled, watching Hannah take a napkin from the bar and wipe another layer of sweat off her face without embarrassment.

“So now that we’re buddies,” Phil said, “I’ve got to say, you look a little panicked. Are you really all right? You’re sweating bullets. I would have thought you had money on a game too.”

Hannah frowned and clutched her stomach.

“Yikes,” Phil said, seeing her face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business.”

“No no,” Hannah said. “I’m not mad at you. I was just happier talking about the Rainbows.”

“It’s okay. Someone has to be miserable at every wedding,” Phil said. “Usually it’s one of the bridesmaids, right? Every wedding I’ve ever been to, there’s always some woman who runs into the bathroom in tears.”

Hannah nodded, amused. “It has been a long weekend, I guess. And there are people here I’d rather not have to see. And I’ve had too much to drink, and I’ve taken medication that wasn’t prescribed to me. Maybe I should just bet on the Rainbows and go to sleep.”

“Maybe you should,” Phil said, in a voice so flirtatious he was instantly ashamed of himself.

He cleared his throat, anxious to move on to a new topic so the conversation wouldn’t end. “So I assume you’re a big-shot lawyer like the bride and groom?” Phil asked matter-of-factly.

“Me? No way. I went to Syracuse with Bee. For undergrad.”

“Big East,” Phil said, nodding approvingly.

“I guess,” Hannah said, not understanding the reference. “I met Bee in the dorms during freshman year. She went to law school, and I’m a casting director in New York.”

“Casting? Like for movies?” Phil asked, his eyes now as wide as Hannah’s had been when he’d talked about his bookie.

“Yeah. Well, little movies right now. But good movies. Tiny independent films. And commercials. Lots of commercials.”

“Commercials?” Phil asked, almost shouting with surprise, as if casting commercials was a more impressive feat than finding talent for the big screen. “Have you done any commercials I’ve seen? Have you done beer commercials?”

“No beer,” Hannah said, giddy that this man was wowed by the part of her casting résumé that Tom had found objectionable. “But—I once cast a Tripledog Steak House commercial.”

Phil tried to remember commercials for Tripledog’s. There were two Tripledog locations within ten minutes of his hometown. He sometimes ate there with his mother, if she looked too tired to cook. He closed his eyes, humming the theme song to himself.

“I remember a Tripledog commercial with a cowboy. Some gay cowboy who lassos a pig that some family winds up eating at a picnic table.”

“I cast that gay cowboy,” Hannah said, leaning back on her stool, her elbow on the bar. “He wasn’t supposed to be a gay cowboy, by the way. Just a cowboy. I’m not sure his sexual orientation is relevant to the commercial.”