“So, I think we can count that as a victory,” Bill said as we headed toward the car. He turned to me and held up his hand. “Go team.”

I smiled as I gave him a high-five. “Well, it’s kind of a victory,” I said, nodding toward the garment bag Bill had been holding for so long that it now just seemed like a part of him. “We’re down a suit.”

“But up an officiant, which is the more important thing.”

“That’s what I thought too. I hope Rodney doesn’t kill me.”

“I think he’ll be happy about it,” Bill said, then paused. “Well, maybe not happy. But probably grateful that he’s actually going to be able to get married.”

“Good point.” I unlocked the car, and we both got in.

“So we’ve gotten a judge and picked up the suit,” Bill said, then looked behind him at the garment bag he’d placed in the backseat. “I mean, kind of. We did pick up a suit, just not the one we expected. So now we need to get bagels.”

“Right,” I said, starting the car, then backing out of the space and driving forward, out through the country club entrance gates. “And Mike.”

“Mike?”

“Yeah, we have to get him. He’s . . . at a friend’s.”

“Cool,” Bill said, smiling across the car at me. “Onward?”

I nodded as I hit the turn signal that would take me toward the commercial district in town. It wasn’t that everything was fixed—Rodney still didn’t have anything to get married in—but we had found a judge. And somehow, it felt like I wasn’t on my own with this—it felt like Bill and I were in this together. I gave him a smile across the car. “Onward.”

* * *

“Uhhhgggggghhhhhh.” I glanced into the backseat, where Mike was curled up, moaning softly, the way he’d been ever since we’d picked him up.

“How you doing, Mike?” I asked, even though I had a feeling I knew how he was doing.

“Shh,” Mike said, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the window. “Why are you talking so loud? Why are you driving so fast?”

I looked down at the speedometer—I was going thirty miles an hour, and it felt like we were crawling.

He had been this way ever since I’d pulled into Jesse’s driveway and found Mike sitting on the front steps, his head hung between his legs. Luckily, J.J. had texted me that he’d called Mike until he’d woken him up, and told him to be ready to meet me. This way, I didn’t have to face ringing Jesse’s doorbell and having a fight with my brother—in front of Jesse—about coming to the house early. And while I wanted to see Jesse, there was so much going on at the moment that I really wasn’t sure I had the bandwidth for it right now. And at any rate, I knew I’d see him tonight—at the reception, with my hair and makeup professionally done, with these problems long solved and the wedding going smoothly. That’s how I wanted to see Jesse—when everything was going to be perfect.

I glanced back at Mike once more. It wasn’t like I’d never seen people with hangovers—I’d covered for J.J. when we’d all gone on a family trip to Hyde Park the day after his senior prom, when he could barely stand up. And I’d had a particularly rough morning myself last year, when I’d been staying at Siobhan’s when her dads were out of town and we’d experimented with mixing together most of their liquor cabinet. But I’d never seen Mike like this—his skin had a distinctly greenish tinge to it. And even though he’d showered at Jesse’s—his hair was damp—he somehow still smelled like whiskey, like it was coming out through his pores or something. I was hoping that maybe the wedding photographer would be able to use some kind of filter, because I had a feeling it wouldn’t look great, in pictures Rodney and Linnie were going to keep forever, to have one of the groomsmen look like he was on the verge of collapse.

“Are you drinking the water?” Bill asked, pointing to the bottle in the backseat cup holder, which we’d picked up at the bagel shop for him.

Mike turned his head to look at it, grimacing. He reached out, gave a feeble attempt to open it, then slumped back against the window again. “Too hard,” he moaned.

“I’ll get it,” Bill said, reaching into the back and opening the cap again. “There you go.”

“Thank you,” I whispered to him.

“It’s fine,” he said, glancing into the backseat again. “Think he’ll be okay for the wedding?”

“He just needs sleep,” I said, hoping this was true. “And water.” I looked at the two huge Upper Crust bags that were sitting at Bill’s feet, containing enough bagels and cream cheese to feed an army. “You want a bagel, Mike?” Bill lifted one of the bags and held it out to him.

“Oh my god.” Mike groaned, turning his head away.

My phone rang, and the car Bluetooth picked it up—and I could see it was Siobhan calling. I closed my eyes for a second as I remembered that with everything happening today, I’d never called her back. “Hi,” I said, answering it, already speaking fast. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get back to you yesterday—things have been so crazy here you wouldn’t believe it. What’s happening? Tell me what’s going on with the roommate situation.”

“Well, before that,” Siobhan said. “I have some bad news.”

“What’s going on?”

“They canceled our flight last night, and the next one we could get on doesn’t get in until Sunday.”

“But the wedding’s tonight.”

“I know,” Siobhan said. “I’m so sorry to miss it—do you think Linnie will be mad?”

“I’m mad!” I snapped.

“Charlie,” Mike mumbled from the backseat. “Could you just . . . maybe not with the yelling?”

“The flight was canceled,” Siobhan said, her voice getting tenser. “It’s not my fault.”

“Well, did you ever think maybe you shouldn’t have gone to Michigan the weekend of my sister’s wedding? I can’t believe you’re telling me this now!”

“Um, well, maybe if you had called me back I would have told you yesterday!” Siobhan said, sounding increasingly angry.

I glanced over at Bill, who was looking fixedly down at his phone, like he was trying to pretend he’d gone temporarily deaf. “I’ve been really busy. There’s been a lot to deal with here—”

“I don’t know why I’m even surprised. You did what you always do—the second your family shows up, it’s like I don’t exist.”

“Are we really doing this now? Again?”

“Um, yeah, because you do this every time. I’m always here for you, to listen to you talk about Jesse nonstop . . . ,” Siobhan said. I glanced quickly into the rearview mirror, but Mike’s eyes were closed. “But the second I need you, if your family’s around, you’re MIA. It’s like I don’t even matter.”

I took a breath to try and argue with this, even though I knew, deep down, she was right.

“And don’t make me feel bad for going to visit my college just because you’re not excited about going.”

“Oh, now this is my fault?”

I heard Siobhan let out a breath, like she was trying to keep herself from yelling again. “I didn’t say that. But it’s like you don’t even want to talk about what’s going to happen next year. It’s like you think you’re going to keep on going to high school, staying in that same house forever.”

“No, I don’t,” I said automatically, without even stopping to wonder if she was right.

“Oh yeah?” Siobhan’s tone was suddenly biting. “So then I guess you finally told Stanwich you’re going there. And you told your other schools not to hold your spot. You’ve picked out your classes and finished your roommate survey?” This hung in the air for just a moment, and I bit my lip, since we both knew what the answers to these questions were. “All you’ve been talking about for months is this weekend, and getting to be with your family again. What happens when this weekend is over?”