Everyone in the tent stood up, people fumbling with their cameras and phones, turning to face my sister, who was walking slowly down the aisle with my mom on one side of her and my dad on the other, looking simultaneously like she was both about to cry and had never been so happy in her life.

I turned and looked at Rodney, who was watching Linnie walk toward him. It was an expression I’d never seen on his face before—it was happiness and wonderment, like he’d just woken up from a dream, only to find out it was real.

Linnie reached Rodney just as the song faded out, and my parents squeezed both of Linnie’s hands before going to sit in the front row, across from the Danielses.

“Hey,” Linnie said, and even through her veil, I could see that she was smiling at him.

“Hey,” Rodney replied, smiling back.

“Good evening,” Ralph said, stepping forward, and I noticed some of the guests glancing from him to Max, like they were wondering why he wasn’t performing the ceremony. “We are here today to bring Linnea and Rodney together in marriage . . .” Ralph continued with his speech, his voice confident and assured, like he’d done this a lot, despite the fact that he was a death judge. I let myself breathe out a sigh of relief as Ralph went on, talking about how Linnie and Rodney were today, pledging themselves before friends and family and promising to honor each other through good times and bad, in health and in sickness, for better or for worse.

I glanced into the front row and saw that my dad had his handkerchief out and was blinking a lot more than usual, and it looked like Mrs. Daniels was already crying.

Ralph looked out at the assembled guests and raised his voice a little as he said, “If anyone present may show just and legal cause why this couple may not be legally wed, speak now or forever hold your peace.” He said this quickly, almost perfunctorily, and had just taken a breath to continue when I heard, from the back of the tent, the sound of a chair scraping back.

“Me. Um, I do. Have something to say.” I whipped around to see what was happening, and my stomach dropped when I saw who it was. There was Olly Gillespie standing up in the back row, holding an oval object in his hand. He was wearing a suit and tie and had a set, determined look on his face. I glanced at Danny, whose expression of horror reflected back what I was feeling.

“Um.” Ralph, clearly thrown for a loop, blinked at Olly. “Okay. Well, this is a new one. Usually that question is more of a rhetorical. You, um, have something to—”

“Olly,” Linnie interrupted, shaking her head. “What are you doing?”

“He asked,” Olly said, pointing at Ralph. “He asked if anyone had anything to say, and I do. So can’t I talk?”

“No,” Mike and Danny said together, both of them turning to face Olly, looking more menacing than I had ever seen them.

“Wedding crasher!” J.J. yelled, pointing at him. He looked around, like he was waiting for the wedding police to show up and take him away.

“I was invited,” Olly said, drawing himself up.

“He was?” I asked Linnie.

“It was a gesture of goodwill,” Linnie muttered, batting her veil away. “I never thought he’d actually come. He didn’t RSVP!”

“I think you’d better sit down,” Danny said, his voice low and serious.

“Technically,” Ralph said, then cleared his throat. “That’s in there just in case someone has evidence that one of you is currently still married, or is wanted by the law . . . things that would invalidate the marriage. So—”

But Ralph didn’t get to finish. Olly pressed the button on the oval thing he was carrying, and a song started playing from it, one that sounded vaguely familiar—I was pretty sure I’d heard it coming from Linnie’s room a lot when she was in high school, something about someone named Jennifer having her daddy’s car.

“What are you doing?” Linnie asked.

“What are you playing?” Rodney asked, because Olly had lifted the oval thing—it was a speaker, I saw now—over his head, like he was reenacting Say Anything at my sister’s wedding.

“It was our song in high school,” Linnie muttered, batting her veil away and glaring at Olly.

“Is this yacht rock?” Mike asked, sounding appalled. “Who is this, Air Supply?”

“Eric Carmen,” Danny, Olly, and Priya all said at the same time.

“Turn it off,” Linnie said, shaking her head. “And J.J., stop dancing.” I looked over at J.J., who had started grooving along to the music.

“Sorry,” he said, giving Linnie an embarrassed smile. “It just makes me lose control.”

“Olly, sit down,” Linnie said.

“Not before I’ve said what I need to say.” He turned the music down slightly—though I was pretty sure I could hear the song on it play again, like he’d uploaded a playlist with only one song—and stepped out into the aisle. “Linnea,” he said, looking right at Linnie. “You’re the love of my life. We found it too early, that’s all. And I know that what we had was special. It was more than just a high school thing. And I really think—”

“Oliver,” Linnie said, and Olly stopped, looking surprised, like he’d had a lot more prepared. “Turn the music off.” Linnie’s voice was gentle but firm, and Olly did—the tent seeming much more quiet now that we didn’t have any yacht rock playing. “I appreciate that it must have been hard for you to come here and do this,” she said, “and it’s not that I don’t care for you. As a friend.”

“But . . . ,” Olly said, shaking his head, “Linnie, what we had . . .”

“Was a long time ago,” Linnie finished for him. “You meant a lot to me in the past. But that’s all it is now. You need to move forward. You can’t still be hung up on your high school girlfriend. If you don’t move on from the past, you’re going to miss out on some really amazing stuff in the future.”

Olly just looked at her for a long moment, then nodded. “Okay. I’m—um—really sorry for doing this during your wedding.” He looked around, and it was like he was just now seeing himself, standing in the aisle, all the people staring at him, J.J. cracking his knuckles threateningly. “Sorry,” he muttered, heading back to his seat again. “Um—do you want me to leave? Or . . . ?”

I saw Rodney roll his eyes, but Linnie nodded. “You can stay,” she said, adjusting her veil again. “Just . . . quietly.” Olly gave her a thumbs-up, and Linnie turned back to Rodney.

“Um . . . okay,” Ralph said, after a moment. “If nobody else has anything to add, we’ll continue. . . .” Everyone laughed at that, not because it was all that funny, but because it was like we collectively needed something to break the tension.

The ceremony moved forward, with Linnie and Rodney reciting the vows they’d written to each other. Halfway through Linnie’s I had to steal a tissue from Jenny K., and I was beyond thankful that Brooke had put waterproof mascara on me. When they’d finished reciting their vows, Ralph stepped forward again and asked for the rings, which Max produced from his suit pocket. After they’d exchanged rings—and both of them had declared I do—Ralph smiled.

“In accordance with the law of Connecticut and by the virtue of the authority vested in me by the law of Connecticut, I do pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss—” But the rest of Ralph’s statement was drowned out as Rodney swept Linnie up in a kiss and everyone else started cheering, the crowd jumping to its feet, applauding—and then wolf whistling as Linnie and Rodney’s kiss kept on going.

When they finally broke apart, I smiled at my sister, feeling a lump start to rise in my throat. And just like that—she was married.

CHAPTER 22

Or, When Maple Syrup Goes Bad

* * *

HELLO, STANWICH!” GLEN YELLED FROM the area where the band was setting up on the stage at the front of the tent—the place where Linnie and Rodney had exchanged vows had been converted, with remarkable speed, to a dance floor. There were four other members of Any Way You Want It, all of whom had Glen’s same middle-aged rocker vibe. “How’s everyone doing?” There was some scattered, half-hearted applause, but Glen smiled like he’d just been given a standing ovation. “Glad everyone’s having a rocking night!”