“Are we sure I shouldn’t have gone for blue? Red? Something that maybe communicates ‘I have banged this man daily’ versus ‘virginal’?”

Mom let out a quiet “Hanna.”

“What? No one down there is going to see Will in a tux and buy that I didn’t climb all over—” I stopped midsentence, catching sight of Chloe behind me. “Are you . . . Oh my God, Chloe. Are—are you crying?”

Chloe reached for a box of tissues—one of many placed around the large bridal suite—and pulled one free, using it to carefully dab beneath each of her perfectly lined eyes.

“No,” she scoffed. “It’s dusty over here.”

Liv paused with the curling iron held midair and looked back over her shoulder. “I realize I’m the new kid here, but something tells me that’s not normal,” she whispered.

I had to bite back a laugh. My sister had only met Chloe on two other, brief occasions, and she already understood that no, when it came to Mrs. Ryan, tears of happiness were not a normal thing.

“Well, that’s not exactly true,” George said to Liv, waving her off before separating a few of the curls she had just placed in my hair. “We could go see the most emotional documentary ever made, and she would leave with clear eyes. But the time a heel broke off one of her red patent Pradas while crossing Seventh? Waterworks.”

Chloe laughed, smacking his arm. “Didn’t I fire you this morning?”

“Twice,” I answered for him. “You fired him on Sara’s behalf in the elevator when he referred to you as ‘Mistress of the Dark’ in front of that priest, and a second time when he offered to help Jensen get dressed later.”

Mom let out a tiny squeak of surprise.

“Always so helpful, Hanna, thank you,” George said, tugging a little too hard on a lock of my hair. “In my defense, he looked very busy. I was just trying to be efficient. But as a side note: I should have been warned that Hanna’s brother was so adorable, because really? Tall, Scandinavian, and single? I think I’m the one who’s been wronged here.”

Liv leaned down and met my eyes in the mirror. “Your friends are weird.”

“If by weird you mean awesome, then yes,” I said, grinning at her before looking back at Chloe. “I love that you’re getting emotional at my wedding, though. I feel like I’ve unlocked a life achievement.”

Chloe dabbed her eyes and sniffed into her tissue. “God, what the hell is wrong with me? This is all just so . . . sweet.”

“Did the BB finally . . . break you?” George asked with dramatic awe.

“I will smack you with a hammer,” she told him with a glare. “Even in that fancy suit.”

“This is awesome for me.” Sara came up behind Chloe and hugged her. “Usually I’m the one crying.”

“Because you’re constantly pregnant,” Chloe reminded her, reaching back to gently pat Sara’s enormous, round belly, carrying Baby Stella Number Two.

“It sure feels that way.” Sara kissed Chloe’s cheek. “But look.” She lifted her chin, meeting my eyes in the mirror. “You’ve distracted Hanna from being nervous.”

“What on earth could you possibly have to be nervous about?” Liv asked, pulling a pin from my hand and giving it to George to tuck into my hair. “You and Will are both thoughtful, intelligent, and conscientious. You guys are going to be great at being married.”

Our eyes met, and when she smiled at me, I had to bite my lip to keep from getting a little emotional myself.

“If any man ever looks at me the way Will looks at you,” George added, “I’ll propose, marry, and ask for his babies right there on the spot. Will can barely wait for this wedding. I’m surprised he hasn’t convinced you to run off to Vegas.”

Liv looked at him over the top of my head “I’m not. If he’d ever suggested that, our mother would have cut off all his favorite parts.”

In unison, we all turned to look across the room at Mom, who was standing quietly near the window, watching the whole conversation. She gave a decisive nod, and I just about burst out laughing.

George held up an authoritative hand. “Alas, I’m afraid I can’t let that happen. I’ve agreed to let Hanna marry the man of our dreams today, provided she shares all the intimate details. We need those parts.”

I was getting married today. Me.

I’d pinch myself, but if this was a dream, I never wanted to wake up.

I looked toward the door, in the direction of Will’s room, and felt the same tug in my chest I’d felt last night.

“Is it still a surprise where you guys are going tonight?” Sara asked.

“Yes—do you know?” I looked at her anxiously but she only shook her head.

“Oh, no,” she said, grinning. “Even if I did—which I don’t—you wouldn’t get it from me. Aren’t you the one who told him to surprise you?”

“Yes, but . . . it turns out the idea of a surprise is a lot better than the actual waiting,” I admitted. Organizing the wedding had been relatively easy; it was the honeymoon that had thrown a wrench into everything. We’d had it all planned out—a week at a gorgeous house in Maine, absolutely no clothes for any of those days—but then a few interviews I’d thought were long shots turned into sure things, and before I knew it I had interviews scheduled around the country and absolutely no idea where I actually wanted to be. After several discussions and what felt like a hundred scheduling conflicts, we’d decided to postpone the honeymoon. My next interview was in two days, so we’d make the most of the wedding night somewhere local . . . and head home in the morning.

It would be fine. We’d take it one step at a time—one interview at a time—and it would work out. New job, new state, new marriage. I just needed to breathe. Will and I were going to be together; where and how were details that some other Hanna could care about later.

I was about to marry the man of my dreams. Everything else would fall into place.

One wedding down.

One babbling, bumbling bride. One grinning, teary-eyed groom.

Two platinum rings in place.

A lot of drunk friends.

And we were married.

Just like I imagined, the wedding and reception were nothing but a blur. I was grateful for the constant click of cameras, because I would need those photographs to tell me everything else that happened while I walked down the aisle toward Will, my heart trying to climb up my throat and fly from my body into his. I barely noticed the flowers, or the wedding party, or the guests. I barely registered that it was a perfect fall day and that the leaves were fluttering from trees in the most idyllic way imaginable. I barely felt the press of my father’s lips to my cheek as he passed my hand over to Will’s.