“It’s fine,” Ms. Marin interrupted, rushing toward her and touching her bare shoulders. “It makes you happy. That’s all I want to see. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to see.” She held Hanna’s arms and looked her up and down. “Remember when we used to play wedding when you were little? I’d let you wear my slips?”
Hanna’s lips parted. She’d forgotten that she and her mom had done that together—so many of her memories involved her dad and his special attention. But all of a sudden, she remembered her mom helping her pull the lacy slip over her head and putting ringlets in her hair. It made her feel sad that the memory had gone unacknowledged for so long. Or that Hanna had written off her mom for so long—maybe she shouldn’t have.
Then a knock came at the door, and Hanna’s head whipped up. Ms. Marin frowned. “Who could that be?”
“Maybe Ramona again?” Hanna murmured, leaping up to answer it. Hanna’s vision adjusted as a tall figure walked into the small space. It was her dad.
“Oh,” Ms. Marin said tightly.
Mr. Marin was dressed in a conservative black suit and a red tie. When he saw her, his face crumpled and his eyes went soft. “Oh, Hanna,” he gushed. “My baby. You look beautiful.”
Hanna turned away from him, instantly annoyed. “What part of don’t come did you not understand?” she spat.
Mr. Marin crossed his arms over his chest. “Hanna. I know I’ve disappointed you in too many ways. And I know I’ve put myself first way too many times. I haven’t been a father to you, and I’ll never make that up to you, and you have a right to hate me forever. But please let me be here. Please let me see you get married. I want to walk you down the aisle.”
“Uh, that job’s already taken,” Ms. Marin piped up. She placed a hand on Hanna’s arm. “Do you want him to leave, honey?”
Hanna gritted her teeth. Her dad had done this so many times. And so many times she’d forgiven him, only to be jilted again. But this time, she didn’t feel the same pull to please him. All at once, she realized: Their relationship had changed. Her dad would never have the same place in Hanna’s life as he had before. He’d lost that privilege for good.
At the same time, just seeing him standing there, that hangdog expression on his face, his hands pushed pathetically into his suit pants pockets, she felt something approaching pity. Maybe she should just give him this. Be the bigger person.
She let out a breath. “You can stay,” she decided. “But Mom’s right—she’s walking me down the aisle. And that’s final.”
“Okay, okay. But thank you for letting me stay.” Mr. Marin lurched forward to hug Hanna, and she obliged him, though she held him at arm’s length so as not to wrinkle her dress. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught her mom rolling her eyes.
Then Ramona popped her head in again. “They’re ready for you, Hanna.”
Hanna felt a spike of nerves. She turned back to the mirror and smoothed down her hair, her heart suddenly going wild. She was doing this. Really marrying Mike. A huge smile stretched across her face. It was going to rock.
Her father had the good sense to slip out of the dressing room and into the crowd of guests. Hanna held tightly to her mom’s hand as Ramona led her there, her head spinning. All sorts of scenarios suddenly plagued her. What if she tripped on the grass? What if Mike wasn’t under the chuppah? Were they expected to say anything in Hebrew? Of all the Jewish weddings she’d attended, she couldn’t remember for the life of her.
“Hanna? Oh my God!”
At first, Hanna thought that the two girls at the end of the hallway were a mirage. Spencer, dressed in a goddess-style beige dress, rushed forward, arms outstretched. Aria followed behind her looking gorgeous in a long emerald-green sheath. “Wow,” Spencer gushed shyly. It looked like she wanted to touch Hanna but wasn’t sure that was acceptable.
Hanna stared at her. “You came,” she finally mustered.
Spencer squeezed her tight. “Of course I did, Hanna. I wouldn’t miss this.”
“I’m so sorry,” Hanna blurted.
“No, I’m sorry,” Spencer said.
“And this is the only reason I’m glad the Feds caught me,” Aria added, worming her way into the circle.
Hanna turned to her. Aria looked tired, but otherwise fine. “Are you okay?” she asked.
Aria shrugged. “You know. Not perfect, but whatever.”
“Did Noel really go with you?” Hanna asked. “How did that happen? And how did they catch you?”
Aria put a finger to her lips. “I’ll explain it all later. This is your time, Hanna.”
Then Spencer cleared her throat. “It’s been awful not talking to you, Han. I feel like such a jerk.”
“It’s okay,” Hanna said, realizing that she should have said this days ago. “I’ve been a jerk, too. It’s been so messed up, you know? The trial, Ali, Emily . . .”
Aria’s face became pinched. “I miss her so much.”
“I do, too,” Spencer blubbered, erupting into fresh sobs.
“I keep thinking about her,” Hanna exploded. “And Spence, it wasn’t your fault. Of course it wasn’t.”