I can't believe Earl went to a strip club last night,” Mom says as she shakes her head.

I play with my phone on the couch as Mom and Hannah primp and preen in front of the mirror. They're going the full nine yards with smoky eyelids, false lashes, and big hair.

I’ve opted for my normal look, which takes considerably less time to achieve. I’ve got my blonde hair up in a messy bun, and I’ve put on a little bit of tinted moisturizer and lip gloss.

Personally, I don't care if guys want to go to strip clubs, although the implication that they need to have one last party before being tied down to the ol’ ball-and-chain is kind of offensive.

It also doesn’t make sense in Earl’s case, because he's been living with Hannah for years. Other than having to wear a wedding band, his life won’t really change much.

“Oh, that was probably Trey’s idea,” Hannah says as she widens her eyes to put on some mascara. Her lips are parted in concentration. “I knew he was going to do that. That's why the rehearsal is tonight, so they won't have any time to do much after dinner and they’ll show up sober and awake tomorrow morning for the ceremony.”

“That’s smart,” I admit, although I’m not surprised. Hannah has always been organized, not to mention good with people.

She’s always been a social butterfly, and I’ve always been the weird, loner bookworm. While it’s obvious that my parents love me, too, I’ve always been aware that Hannah’s their favorite.

I used to get better grades than Hannah, but they didn’t matter.

There was one time I came home with mostly A’s in my report card, except for French. Peering at me over his reading glasses, Dad asked, “Where's the other A?”

When I told him everybody in my class got low grades in French, he said, “You’re better than average, and that's what a B is—average. This wasn't your best and you know it. Set higher standards for yourself.”

Yet even when Hannah got B’s and C’s, he showered her with praises and put her report cards up on the fridge.

They used to push me into joining various clubs at school like Hannah did, and tell me to be more friendly to people like Hannah was, and herd me out of my room so I’d read less and hang out with people more—again, like Hannah.

Let’s just say it wasn’t easy growing up as Hannah’s sister.

“Of course.” Hannah smiles and raises her eyebrows at me through the mirror of her vanity. “I don’t make mistakes.”

“Oh, so Grace sleeping in my room wasn’t a mistake either?” I ask.

“Well, okay . . . maybe one mistake, Bee,” Hannah admits, laughing.

My sister used to call me Bree for short. But Marcus couldn’t pronounce the letter “r” when he was little, and so he started calling me Bee instead. Now Hannah and Earl call me Bee, too.

It’s hard to hate Hannah when she’s always so nice and agreeable. It’s not her fault my parents like her more than they like me. I’d probably prefer her too, if I were them.

“Sounds like my girls are having fun,” Dad says as he pops his head in the doorway. “I’ve missed having all of you home.”

“Hey, Dad,” I say. “Why aren’t you in your suit yet?”

We had a little argument this morning about him tracking my phone, but he just said, “It’s for your own good,” and refused to admit he’d messed up. As usual.

But he didn’t say anything when I told him I was getting a new number, so I left it at that. Small victories.

Despite the egregious breach of my privacy, he was paying the bills for the phone, so there was nothing much I could do anyway.

It sucks that I can’t support myself yet. Dad’s paying for my education and in return, he wants me to focus on my studies, which means I can’t work.

To be fair, though, most of the medical students in my school don’t work either, unless they’re really strapped for cash. The packed schedule and heavy competition mean that the best use of my time is to hit the books. Doing anything on the side would be a waste of my expensive education.

I can’t wait to start working and making my own money, though. That will open up so many possibilities for me. I’ll finally get to escape my dad’s control.

“Oh, he’s not going to the rehearsal,” Mom says.

“What? Why?” I ask. Whatever special privileges he has, I want them too.

I want to be there for my sister—I really do. But because Grace, one of the bridesmaids, arrived one night earlier than scheduled, Hannah didn’t have a hotel room booked for her. That’s why last night she had to sleep on a spare mattress in my bedroom.

She came in at 3 a.m., dragging her suitcase with the squeaky wheels. I couldn’t go back to sleep after that, so I had about three hours of sleep last night.

My eyes hurt and my head is throbbing. I feel like I’m not fully awake, like I’m on some downer drug.

“He’s got a thing at the hospital,” Hannah says, “but he’ll be there in time for the dinner.”

I eye my dad suspiciously. I’ve spent a lot of time at Hopedale Hospital, where he works, so I know this is probably a lie. I’m guessing he hasn’t finished editing his speech or something like that.

We share a look. Dad, I know what you’re doing.

As I expected, his gaze darts around, avoiding mine.

“Oh, I know that thing,” I say. “Actually, Dad, I’m done with my makeup and I’m probably not super essential for the rehearsal. I can go with you to the hospital and help you out so you’ll be done sooner.”

“Oh no, that won’t be necessary, honey,” Dad says with a suspicious smile. “There’s someone you should meet at the rehearsal.”

“This had better not be one of your match-making attempts, Dad,” I warn him.

Before Dad can reply, Hannah says, “You can’t not go to the rehearsal, Bee. Dad and I have practiced a bunch of times, but you don’t know anything about the procession.”

“I’d better go now. I’ll see you girls at the dinner,” Dad says quickly before he disappears down the hallway. I hear him go down the stairs. “Stick together, okay? Your ride will be here in half an hour,” he yells out from downstairs before the door snaps shut.

“I don't know why he's so worried. I told Dad the wedding planner had arranged everything,” Hannah says.

“Oh, you know how your dad is,” Mom says. “I wouldn't be surprised if he’d called the wedding vendors one by one to confirm every single detail.”

“I shouldn't have bothered with hiring a wedding planner. Dad could've done everything for free,” Hannah says, which makes both Mom and me giggle.

“He’s not trying to set me up with yet another guy, is he?” I ask.

Mom and Hannah exchange a look in the mirror, but neither one of them says anything.

“Hey, I saw that. You’re hiding something,” I call them out.

“Well, there is one guy that Dad likes . . .” Hannah says softly.

“I knew it. He still doesn’t believe I can make it as a doctor, does he? I’ve gotten matched to an internship position and everything. When is he going to take me seriously?” I ask.

“No, it’s not like that,” Mom says.

“He still thinks I should find a doctor to marry and then stay home to take care of the kids, doesn’t he?” I ask.

“Well, yes . . .” Mom admits.

“Then it’s exactly like that. He wants to give me away to some guy.”

“What’s wrong with staying home to take care of the kids, though?” Mom asks. “That’s what I did. That’s what Hannah is doing.”

“Mom,” Hannah says, “I’m sure Bee doesn’t mean to say there’s anything wrong with our choice to be stay-at-home moms. She just wants to pick a different option. Right, Bee?”

“Yes. Exactly,” I say, grateful for the diplomatic rescue.

“And Bee, I know sometimes it seems like Dad’s trying to control your life, but he means well,” Hannah says. “And I wouldn’t automatically reject a guy just because Dad’s the one who found him. He found Earl for me, remember?” Hannah smiles sweetly.

Like I said, she’d be my favorite kid too, if I were my parents.

“Yeah,” I say, even though I already know I’m going to hate this guy.

I’ve never liked any of the guys my dad has introduced to me. I don’t know if Hannah’s right about me automatically rejecting those guys just to rebel against Dad, though.

I mean, they’re perfectly nice guys, but it takes a little more than that for me. There has to be a certain connection, some kind of mutual understanding that comes from a place deep within, an inner acknowledgment that we’re kindred spirits.

And that’s just something I don’t come across all that often. In fact, I’ve only ever found it in Aiden.

Ah, damn it. I’ve been trying to push thoughts of him to the back of my mind, but he keeps resurfacing every time I try to push him back underwater.

Aiden.

Was it really him last night, and the day before that, at the parking lot?

To be honest, Grace’s early-morning intrusion into my bedroom wasn’t the only reason why I didn’t get enough sleep.

I couldn’t get Aiden out of my head and for hours, I just stared at the ceiling and replayed every word I could remember from our conversation.

If that guy’s really my Aiden . . .

He looks different, but of course he would. It’s been ten years. His voice has deepened. His facial hair obscures some of his features, while giving him this rugged quality. He’s even taller, and more solidly built. I could see hints of muscle definition under his shirt.

Have I changed so much that he doesn’t remember me, too?

“Hannah, does Marcus have a helmet? You know, for skateboarding?” I ask randomly.

“Of course he does. It’s dangerous to ride without one,” Hannah says. “Why?”

What do you know? Aiden’s right.

I consider not telling Hannah about what happened in the parking lot, but I can’t hide something like that from her. This is about her son’s safety.

“He didn’t bring one with him when I took him to the mall. He fell in the parking lot, but luckily he just had some scratches on his hands—they’re probably healed by now. But he didn’t have a helmet, and I thought I should ask you about that.”

“Ugh, I’m going to kill him. I told him not to ride if he doesn’t have his helmet with him,” Hannah says.

“Well, that boy doesn’t always listen,” Mom says. “Remember last night when he just announced that he’d seen Aubrey and he just ran away? I had to follow him to check that he was really with Aubrey and not just some strange woman.”

“Wait, Mom, did you see the guy I was drinking with last night?” I ask.

“I just caught a quick glimpse of him from outside the restaurant. I was more concerned about finding Marcus and identifying you.”

“Did he look familiar to you?” I ask.

“Not really,” Mom says. “Who is he? Someone from your old school?”

“No, I met him at the casino,” I say. “His name’s Aiden.”

Mom’s eyes widen in shock, and for the first time, she twists around to look at me directly. “That Aiden?”

“I don’t know,” I shrug.

Mom frowns. “You didn’t ask him?”

“I did, but . . . Ugh, I don’t know. Just forget it. I probably won’t ever see the guy again.”

“Ooh, is this your first boyfriend?” Hannah asks with interest.

“Yeah, his name was Aiden too, but I don’t know if he’s the guy from last night.”

When I met Aiden, Hannah had gone to college in Seattle, so she wasn’t here to help me through my first crush, my first relationship, and my first heartbreak. She has no idea what my Aiden looked like either, so it wouldn’t make sense to ask her about the other, adult Aiden.

“Funny,” Hannah says, “One of the groomsmen is named Aiden, too. Wouldn’t it be funny if he’s the guy from last night, and your first boyfriend from ten years ago?”

“Are you serious?” I ask, a little too excitedly. My heart jumps at the possibility of seeing him again tonight.

“No, wait, don’t get too excited yet. I have no idea,” Hannah says quickly. “I don’t know if he’s either one of those guys. Could be neither.”

I put my hand over my mouth, still dealing with the revelation.

It’s not like he’s the only guy with that name, but there have been too many coincidences for everything to be random.

Yet, if they weren’t coincidences, what’s the explanation for what’s going on?

Let’s say they—my ex, the slot machine guy, and the groomsman—are all the same guy. That means my ex has somehow tracked me down, made friends with my brother-in-law and gotten close enough to be part of the wedding party, deliberately parked his car somewhere my nephew could slam into, followed me to a casino in a different city, and won at my slot machine.

How is that a more likely scenario than just a random series of coincidences?

No, I’m probably being silly. In all likelihood, I haven’t met Aiden the groomsman in my life.

“Don't give your sister any ideas, Hannah,” Mom says.

“Right. Dad wants to introduce her to Trey. Almost forgot,” Hannah winks at me through the mirror.

As we giggle, Mom’s eyes flick between the two of us, trying to figure out what we find so funny, which only makes us laugh harder.

It is nice to have everyone together again.

Sometimes, I wish I could get along with Dad. But he's way too pushy sometimes, and I just can't live under his iron rule. Mom and Hannah don't seem to mind his absolute reign either, which makes me feel like the black sheep who doesn't belong.

I definitely don’t want to live here with them, but just one weekend with the whole family is nice.

“So do you know the full name of this Aiden guy?” I ask Hannah.

“No, but wouldn’t it be crazy if he’s really your ex from ten years ago?”

“Yeah. Crazy.” I laugh nervously.

“Oh, actually . . . I might have pictures of him,” Hannah says. “Earl sent me pictures of the guys last night.”

“Are you serious?” I ask, a little too eagerly. “Show me.”

Mom slowly shakes her head. “I still can’t believe they went to a strip club.”

“You know, Mom, it’s really not that weird,” Hannah says. “People fly into Vegas from all over specifically to visit our strip clubs. Some of Earl’s groomsmen are from out of town. They just wanted to have a little fun.”

Hannah picks up her phone. As her manicured nails tap on the screen, I sit bolt upright in my chair.

“Here you are,” Hannah says as she hands me her phone. She grins. “Don’t scroll. Or you’d regret it.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t want to see the nude pictures you and Earl send each other.” I quickly take Hannah’s phone and stare at the screen as my heart races.

“Don’t be vulgar, girls,” Mom says. I don’t have to look up to know she’s wearing a disapproving expression on her face.

I scan the guys’ faces one by one until my gaze lands on a beautiful man standing in the back, grinning with his arms around some of the other guys.

Golden skin. A mess of dark hair. Tall, sturdy body with just the right amount of muscle.

There’s no mistaking it. That’s him.