“Why would we yell?” Linnie asked, her voice getting louder with every word. “Charlie?”

“My head,” Mike whimpered.

“What’s happening?” Linnie asked, looking hard at me.

I glanced at Max, who looked back at me pleadingly, like he wanted me to explain this for him, and I nodded and took a breath. “So, Max found out that you can’t perform marriages in Connecticut with online ordination,” I said, and across the room, I could see Linnie’s face pale. “You have to be a clergy member or a judge.”

“What?” Rodney asked loudly, and Mike flinched.

“If we could just . . . ,” he said, shaking his head slowly, “just not . . .”

“Sorry, Mike,” Rodney said, in a quieter voice. “But what?”

“Guys, this was totally my bad,” Max muttered. “I should have checked.”

“Or I should have,” Rodney said, running his hand over his eyes. “God. I should have verified this. If I hadn’t been so busy studying . . .” Linnie reached out her hand to Rodney, who took it.

“But it’s okay,” I said quickly. “Because we found a judge to marry you. It’s all set.”

“You did?” Danny asked, looking impressed. “Go, Chuck!”

“Okay,” Rodney said, looking like he was having trouble keeping up. “So . . . that’s good.”

“Who is this judge?” asked Linnie.

“Well, his name’s Ralph,” I said, “and he mostly does wills and estates, but he promised me that he’s able to do this. Legally, I mean.”

“A probate judge is marrying us?” Rodney asked, sounding horrified. I nodded.

“But he seemed really . . . um . . .” I hesitated, not wanting to lie to them on their wedding day. “Really competent,” I finally finished.

Linnie nodded slowly. “We’re getting married by someone named Ralph,” she said, like she was still trying to get her head around it.

“I’m just going to . . . check on something,” Max muttered, glancing up at the ceiling and then leaving the room, Waffles in hot pursuit.

“That dog is very strange,” Danny said, standing up as he pulled his phone from his pocket. “You okay?” he asked me, and I nodded as Danny headed out of the room.

“But how did you get him to agree to do it?” Rodney asked, looking at me, then shook his head. “How did you even find a judge on a Saturday?”

“It’s kind of a funny story,” I said. “Um . . . he sort of agreed to do it if he got to keep your suit.”

“My suit?” he echoed. “My wedding suit?”

“It is a nice suit,” J.J. said, clearly trying to be helpful.

“But . . .” Rodney looked around the room, like someone there might be able to explain to him what was going on. “This isn’t a fable—you’re not supposed to barter goods for services.”

“I know,” I said, “but the tailor gave him your suit by mistake, and then, when he put it on, he really liked it, so . . .”

“What am I supposed to wear?” Rodney asked, staring at me. “To my wedding, which is in a few hours?”

“Well,” I said, lifting the garment bag off the back of the couch, “We still have Ralph’s suit. You could always . . . um . . .” Rodney unzipped it and visibly flinched when he saw the suit. I poked J.J. hard in the side.

“Ow!” he said, glaring at me. “What . . .” I nodded toward the suit, widening my eyes at him. “Um, it’s not so bad,” he said, finally understanding me. “I mean, it’s so . . . purple.”

“Mike?” Rodney asked, holding the suit out to him. Mike leaned forward to look at it, then groaned again.

“Why would you do that to me?” he asked, rubbing his hand over his eyes. “I’m feeling sick enough already.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, glancing between Linnie and Rodney, neither of whom looked happy. “I just thought . . . you’d rather have a judge than a suit. That’s all.”

There was a knock on the family room doorframe, and I looked up to see the girl I’d seen earlier, the one with the camera bag. She was standing next to a guy with a goatee, who was carrying a professional-looking video camera. “Hi, all,” the girl said, with a broad wave. “Linnie, Rodney, we wanted to get both video and stills of the bridal parties getting ready. Maybe we’ll start with the groomsmen, since we’re still waiting on the girls’ hair and makeup?”

Linnie nodded, putting a very strained smile on her face. “We’ll be right there.”

“That’s my cue,” J.J. said, standing, then flicking Mike on the head. “Your cue too.”

“Gahhhh,” Mike moaned as he pushed himself up off the chair—I couldn’t help but notice it seemed to take him about three times as long as normal. J.J. slung his arm around Mike’s neck and pulled him from the room.

I turned to the other couch, where both Linnie and Rodney were looking shell-shocked. “You guys okay?”

“I just . . . ,” Rodney said, then shook his head. “Are there any more surprises coming our way?”

“Well,” I said, then cleared my throat, secretly hoping that maybe the two of them harbored a secret fandom I wasn’t aware of. “How do you guys feel about Journey?”

CHAPTER 19

Or, What’s the Worst That Could Happen?

* * *

OKAY, LINNEA, IF YOU COULD look in the mirror . . . Great . . . And all the bridesmaids, lean in around her . . . but don’t look at me. . . . Great . . . Okay one more . . .”

I held my expression as still as possible, as Jenny W., Jenny K., Priya, and Elizabeth all clustered around Linnie, who was pretending to do her hair. “Great!” the photographer said, lowering the camera. “I’m just going to move the lights. . . .” As soon as she stepped away, the hair and makeup team—they were a guy and girl named Shawn and Cameron, but I wasn’t sure which was which—swooped in.

There had been shots of the two of them pretending to do Linnie’s hair and makeup, but in between those, they needed to actually do Linnie’s hair and makeup, since they were also doing the rest of us. Luckily, the videographer hadn’t been there for too long—he’d just gotten some footage of us getting ready (or pretending to) and the hair and makeup team starting to work on Linnie. Then he’d headed downstairs, and I wasn’t sorry to see him go, mostly because it wasn’t like Linnie’s room was all that big to begin with, and five bridesmaids, a bride, and a photographer seemed more than enough—and that was without the giant light bouncer thing the photographer kept moving around.

“This is a disaster,” Linnie said as the hair guy brushed out a strand, then clamped his curling iron around it.

“No, no,” I said, trying to be as cheerful as possible. I looked to the Jennys and Priya for backup, but they were talking in a small circle up by Linnie and Rodney’s bed. I widened my eyes at Elizabeth, who nodded and gave me a tiny wink. It wasn’t that she and Rodney looked very much alike, but their mannerisms and cadence were exactly the same—so I figured having her say something was the closest we were going to get to Rodney being here without pulling him in.

“It’ll be fine,” Elizabeth said soothingly. “Weddings are always crazy. I mean, you remember mine, right?”

“But your wedding was beautiful,” Linnie said, her voice getting higher and a little more hysterical. I saw the hair guy exchange a glance with the makeup artist.

“Exactly,” Elizabeth said, smiling at her. “You didn’t see what a disaster it was behind the scenes. And now when I think about my wedding, I don’t remember that either. It’s all going to be okay.” She glanced at me, and I gave her a grateful smile.

“But . . . ,” Linnie said, meeting my eye in the mirror. “I mean . . . Mike can barely stand up. We’re being married by a death judge. Rodney’s suit. Journey?”

I bit my lip. “But it can’t get any worse.”