“GRACE, YOUR PARENTS are here.”

Missy and Joy popped their heads into the ladies’ room where I was fixing my hair. The rehearsal dinner was to start in fifteen minutes, and I’d come here not so much to inspect my appearance as to hide out. Honestly, it was my parents I’d been trying to hide from.

Neither of them had attended the rehearsal itself, which had actually been a relief. For them to agree to come to the dinner had been a shock. While I’d done my best to reconcile with both of them over the phone and through letters, seeing them in person was still going to be tough.

I took a deep breath and left the ladies’ lounge for the foyer of the country club—the Upton family had a membership and organized the dinner for us—and there they were, my mother and my father, looking intensely uncomfortable with each other. I slapped on a smile and resolved not to let anything ruin this weekend.

“Mom! Dad!” I reached out for them both and pulled them in for a group hug. “I’m so glad you were able to make it. Come on in, and let me introduce you to everyone.” Without allowing them a chance to protest, I pulled them toward the dining room.

Everyone was welcoming and warm with them, as I knew I could trust them to be. Jack was charming and even nervous about making a good impression, and the Uptons took them under their wings and drew them into conversation. Now there was only one nerve-racking thing left to get through this weekend: the wedding itself. I forced myself to stay calm. “This dress is way too expensive to start sweating in,” I told myself aloud. “Save that for when you actually have to walk down the aisle.” I adjusted my veil and checked my mascara one more time. The girls rolled their eyes and continued fixing their makeup. T minus fifteen and counting.

The door opened, and my parents walked in. My mother wore a pale blue dress, her long hair swept up in a french roll. I couldn’t remember ever seeing her in a dress and not a suit. My father came in after her, looking uncomfortable in this room full of women. I wanted to cry. I willed myself not to.

“Oh, baby,” my mother sighed. I stood and came over, then hugged her and felt the tears start. When my shoulders shook, she sniffed and laughed, “Oh, honey, your makeup!”

My dad stood apart from us, obviously clueless about what to do. My mother and I pulled apart, and I hugged him, too. He returned it stiffly, patting me gingerly on the back.