“Okay.” He reached out to straighten her left earring. “Anything else I can do?”

“You could check with Mac, just to make sure the bride’s insulated from all this. Parker would’ve come up with a reason for a slight delay.” Calculating, Laurel rubbed at the tension in the back of her neck. “We’re twenty minutes out, so I figure ten or fifteen for the delay. We’re good. She turned off the shower,” Laurel noted. “You’d better go.”

“I’m gone. By the way? Nice block,” he added, lifting his arm to demonstrate.

She gave him a laughing shove, then closed the door.Taking a deep, bracing breath, she walked over to the bathroom, knocked. “Okay in there?”

Bibi opened the door. She wore Laurel’s best robe with her hair in dark blond dripping ropes over the shoulders. Her red, puffy eyes shimmered with the threat of more tears.

“Look at me. I’m a mess.”

“This should help.”

“Is it a gun?”

“Champagne. Have a seat, take a breath. We’re having your dress fixed, and we’ll have someone in to do your hair and makeup in a few minutes.”

“Oh, thank God.” Bibi took a deep gulp of the champagne.

“Thank God, and thank you. I feel horrible. Sick. Stupid. Twelve years. I’ve been married to Sam for twelve years. Doesn’t that count for something?”

“Of course.” Soothe, Laurel thought, remembering the Vows’ directive. Soothe, stroke, smooth over.

“I didn’t wreck anybody’s home. They were separated when we met. Well, okay, not technically, not officially, but practically. She hates me because I’m younger. She’s the starter wife; I’m the trophy wife. She’s the one who throws those labels around. And twelve years, I mean, well, shit.”

“It’s never easy to handle those kinds of relationships and connections.”

“I’ve tried.” Bibi’s red-rimmed eyes pleaded for understanding. “I really have. And they were divorced before we got engaged. Almost.And I love Sarah. I really do. And Brad’s great. They’re great together. I want them to be happy.”

“That’s what counts most.”

“Yeah.” She sighed, took a slower sip. “I signed a prenup. I even asked for it. It wasn’t about the money, even though she’s always saying it was. Is. We just fell in love. You can’t help that, right?You can’t help who you fall in love with, or when or how? It just happens. She’s pissed, that’s all, because her second marriage hit the skids and we’re still going. I’m sorry for all the trouble. Sarah doesn’t have to know, does she?”

“No. At least not today.”

“They weren’t even sleeping together anymore. When I met Sam they had separate bedrooms, separate lives. That’s like being separated, isn’t it?”

Laurel thought of her own parents. “I guess it is.”

“Maybe I was the reason Sam finally took the step and asked for a divorce, but I wasn’t the reason they weren’t happy together. It’s got to be better to take that step than to keep being unhappy together, don’t you think?”

“Yes, I do.” Twelve years, Laurel thought. Yes, that did have to count for something. “Bibi, you have a good marriage, and a good relationship with your stepdaughter. You can afford to take the high road on this.”

“She screamed at me. She threw champagne in my face. She tore my dress.”

“I know. I know” Soothe, soothe, Laurel thought again. “Now, you can be the one to step back, to let it all go today, and focus on Sarah. To help make it the happiest day of her life.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” Bibi knuckled her eyes like a child.

“I’m really sorry about what happened.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Laurel rose at the knock on the door.

“And in about fifteen minutes, you’re going to look perfect.”

“I—I never even asked your name.”

“It’s Laurel.”

“Laurel.” Bibi’s lips trembled up into a shaky smile. “Thanks for listening.”

“No problem. Now, let’s get you ready again.” She opened the door to the hairdresser.

THE BRIDE, BLISSFULLY UNAWARE OF THE BACKSTAGE DRAMA, STOOD with her father while her attendants walked toward the flower-drenched pergola. Some brides glowed, Laurel thought, and this one certainly did while the pretty, playful breeze fluttered the gauzy layers of her veil.

Mac changed angles, and Laurel imagined caught that shimmer of joy and anticipation as Sarah turned her head to grin at her father.

“Oh boy! Here we go.”

The music changed for the bride. Laurel saw Sam glance toward Parker, give the faintest of nods. Appreciation or acknowledgment—maybe both. Then he walked his radiant daughter toward the waiting groom.

“So far, so good,” Del murmured beside Laurel.

“It’s going to be fine. Probably better they had their battle before it started. Got it out of their system.”

“There won’t be any more trouble.” Parker’s tone was cold as January ice. “At least not from that source.”

“What did you say to the father?” Del wondered.

Parker’s smile would have frozen flame. “Let’s just say I’m confident the MOB and SMOB will behave in a civil manner, that Vows will be compensated for the additional hair and makeup fees, the gown repairs, and all damages.” She patted Del’s chest. “And we won’t need your services to collect.”

“I need to go finish the setup.” Laurel checked her watch. “Not that far off time, considering.”

“Do you want some help?” Del asked her.

“No. Go ... get a beer or whatever.”

She went back to her kitchen, where it was quiet and cool. Where she could sit for just a couple of minutes. Listening to Bibi had depressed her, and she needed to shake it off.

Loveless marriages, unhappy homes, the X factor of another woman. She knew exactly the sort of miserable brew those ingredients created—and how long the bitter aftertaste could linger.

Surely Sarah had tasted some of that brew, and likely more than once. Yet she’d stood beaming joy on her father’s arm. The father who’d been unfaithful to her mother, the father who’d broken the very vows she herself was about to make.