“Okay,” the photographer said, adjusting the light bounce thing and then coming back with her camera. “Just a few more getting-ready shots and then I’ll actually let you get ready,” she said with a quick smile. The Jennys and Priya hustled back over, and all of them put big smiles on as we posed around Linnie again. “And . . . got it,” the photographer said after what felt like an eternity of listening to her camera click. “Great.” She nodded. “I’ll give you some time, and I’ll be back for when Linnie puts her dress on, okay?” Without waiting for a reply, she headed out of the room, scrolling through the pictures on her viewfinder as she went.

“You okay?” I asked Linnie, who tried to nod but was held back by the fact her hair was attached to a curling iron.

“Tell me it’ll be okay,” she said, meeting my eyes in the mirror. “Because I just . . .” She took a shaky breath. “It kind of feels like this wedding is falling apart, you know?”

“No,” I said, maybe a little too emphatically. “It’ll all be fine. It’ll be great.”

“Totally great,” Jenny K. said quickly, and Priya nodded.

“Okay,” Linnie said with what seemed like a real effort. “Right! Things will be fine.” She looked at me as much as she could without turning her head. “Are you going to take a shower, Charlie? You should probably do it now.”

I looked down at the time on my phone and realized she was right; I had to get moving. “Are we still going to have enough time?” I asked, looking at the hair and makeup team.

The makeup artist nodded. “We’ll just do you last,” she said.

“It’s critical,” Linnie said with a smile that made me think she was shaking off her panic a bit. “Charlie’s terrible at doing her own hair.”

I didn’t even disagree with this—it was completely true. “She’s right about that,” I said, heading toward the door. “Okay, I’ll be back soon.”

“I’ll come with you!” Jenny W. said in a falsely cheerful voice, following me toward the door.

“What—to take a shower?” I asked, baffled, as she manhandled me out the door and then onto the landing, pulling the door shut behind her.

“Hi!” I jumped, whirling around to see J.J. standing there, and I had a feeling he’d been lying in wait for a while.

“What?” I asked.

“Well—” J.J. said, taking a deep breath, then noticed Jenny. “Hey,” he said, his voice dropping about an octave.

“Hey yourself,” Jenny W. said, smiling at him, but then turning to me. “We have a problem. I think Linnie’s getting sick. She keeps sneezing, and I do not want her to do it during the ceremony.”

“What do you want me to do about it?”

“Give her some cold medicine or something! I keep suggesting it, but she keeps saying she’s fine.”

“Okay,” I said, nodding, adding it to my list of things I had to take care of before the wedding, the list that just seemed to get longer by the minute.

“My turn?” J.J. asked, then not waiting for an answer, kept going. “So, I understand there’s a problem with the wedding band.”

Jenny turned to me, eyebrows raised, and I nodded. “The wedding planner booked a Journey cover band by mistake.”

“Streetlight People are going to be here?” Jenny asked, her voice rising as she grabbed my hand. “Really?”

“No,” I said, staring at her. “The, um, other Journey cover band.”

“Oh,” she said, looking disappointed. “That’s too bad. They played my cousin’s daughter’s bat mitzvah, and they were amazing.” She gave me a sympathetic look. “Sorry you couldn’t get them.”

“We didn’t try to get them. We didn’t want any Journey cover band playing the wedding!”

“Well, exactly,” J.J. said. “So I’m offering my services.”

“Your services?” I frowned at my brother. “What are you—” I remembered, all at once. “No.”

“Yes!” J.J. said, grinning widely. “DJJJ is here to help. I am a professional, after all.”

“Jameison, you’re a DJ?” Jenny asked, smiling at him, and J.J. inclined his head modestly.

“You only played one party,” I reminded him. One summer when he was in college, J.J. had gone through a brief phase of wanting to be a DJ. It had not turned out well, either for him or for Eloise Robert’s sweet sixteen. “And they kicked you out halfway through.”

“I’ll have you know that I frequently pick the Pirate bus music,” J.J. said, drawing himself up to his full height. “And you know I make a mean playlist.” I was aware of this; J.J. usually made us personalized mixes for Christmas and claimed that the gift of music was the most precious present of all.

I glanced down at the phone in my hand and realized I didn’t have time to keep arguing this point, and that, frankly, someone volunteering to take over the music sounded pretty good to me. “Fine,” I said, and J.J. threw a celebratory fist in the air.

“You’ve never made me a playlist, Jameison,” Jenny said, her voice flirtatious.

J.J. took a step closer to her, a smile on his face, which I took as my cue to leave. I knew I needed to get in the shower, but I’d also never gotten my bagel this morning and was feeling seriously hungry. I hurried down to the kitchen and saw only a lone blueberry left. I sighed and picked it up, and had just turned to head back upstairs when someone called me.

“Charlotte?” I turned around to see Rodney’s Aunt Liz standing in the doorway of the family room. “Could I have a moment?” Aunt Liz was beautifully dressed, as usual, in a pale orange suit, complete with brooch and scarf, but I wasn’t sure if this was what she was going to be wearing to the wedding, or if this was just her pre-wedding breakfast outfit. “You look very nice.”

“Oh, this?” Liz asked, casting a dismissive eye down at her outfit, which pretty much answered my question. “Well—thank you, dear. And you’re . . .” She looked at me, and a small, worried frown appeared on her face as she took in my sneakers and jeans.

“I haven’t gotten ready yet,” I said quickly, and Liz nodded, looking relieved.

“I’m sorry to bother you about this. But I didn’t want to hassle Linnea or Rodney, not on their wedding day. . . .”

“I’m sure that whatever it is, I can handle it.”

“Good,” she said with a nod. “Because I need you to change the seating plan. I’m far, far too close to Jimmy.” She practically spat out the name, like it pained her to even say it.

“Um . . . I’m pretty sure Linnie took that into consideration when she was making it. . . .”

“It needs to be fixed,” she said, and the sweet older lady was now totally gone, replaced with someone who was steely and all business. “Otherwise, I know Jimmy. There will be a scene, and that’s the last thing I want at my nephew’s wedding.”

“Okay,” I said quickly, since Liz was looking scarier by the minute. “I’ll get it taken care of.”

“Oh, good,” she said with a sweet smile.

I gave her a nod and left the family room, realizing that I now really needed to hurry and get in the shower ASAP. I also didn’t know how I was going to fix the seating plan—especially after the General had redone all the place cards for us. I pulled out my phone to text Bill as I walked toward the stairs.

Me

Hey—having an issue with two of the relatives

on the groom’s side. Can you make sure Jimmy and Liz are seated as FAR away from each other as possible??

Before I’d even reached the second-floor landing, Bill had texted me back.

Bill

On it

I smiled as I looked down at it, incredibly relieved in that moment that he was here, that he was on my side and helping out with this.

Me

Thanks so much. You’re the best

A second after I’d sent it, I realized what I’d done and looked in horror as the little DELIVERED appeared under it, letting me know that there was no taking this back. But hopefully it was fine and Bill wouldn’t read too much into it. Because I didn’t mean anything, really—just that I was happy he was helping all of us. With the wedding. That he was the best wedding coordinator’s assistant, that was all I had meant.