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“Wow. Do you think Hannah will plan my wedding?” Tara said, flipping through the multipage document Cole had been waving.

Cole’s eyes lit up. “She will if you get married at Carrigan’s!”

She leveled him with her best “are you fucking kidding me” look, but he was immune. Putting her hands on her hips, she turned to Noelle. “Can I fix your hair? I guarantee I will make it hot as shit.”

Noelle regarded her seriously in the mirror, then nodded. “I probably should not let the woman whose girlfriend I stole do my hair for my wedding, but I can’t get the yarmulke to sit right and you do have excellent hair yourself.”

“Fiancée,” Tara reminded her. “You stole my fiancée. But I owe you for that. It would have been a really shitty divorce in a couple of years. And I would never, ever fuck up a butch’s hair on her wedding day.”

Cole looked between them. “Is there, like, a lesbian code of honor I don’t know about?”

They both laughed at him, and Tara fixed Noelle’s hair and then her suspenders.

“I need you!” Hannah said, bursting in.

“Me?” Noelle and Cole both asked, each pointing to themselves.

“Hell no.” Hannah looked appalled. “I need Tara.”

Tara shrugged, and Hannah pulled her out into the hallway. “Rabbi Ruth needs you to—”

“TARA!” Miriam shouted, her head popping into view in the hallway. Her hair looked amazing. “My zipper is stuck and I can’t get my eyeliner wings right!”

“Don’t you people have a wedding planner?” Tara asked. “What were you going to do if I didn’t come to this wedding?”

“Not get married,” Miriam said, as if it were obvious. “Fix my zipper!”

Sighing, she ducked into the room. “Can someone else help Rabbi Ruth?” she called back to Hannah.

“I got it,” Hannah said, her eyes looking only a little panicked. “Somehow.”

Cole was right behind her. “Mimi, is there a secret lesbian code of ethics?” he whined. “Oh, you look incredible. But is Tara going to fix your eyeliner wings?”

“How would I know?” Miriam asked him. “I’m a bisexual. The bisexual code of ethics is, like, don’t sit correctly in a chair and all cops are bastards. The lesbians tell me nothing.”

“Should I be a bisexual?” Cole wondered aloud.

Both Tara and Miriam looked at him.

“No, it won’t work.” He sighed. “I’m too gay.”

Cole had come to his understanding of his own homosexuality late and was trying to make up for lost time by jumping all in as hard as he could. Tara was, obviously, thrilled for him, and also secretly entertained.

“Okay, Mir, turn toward me. I’m going to fix your eyeliner.”

“Cole,” Miriam said over Tara’s shoulder. “I love you. Go away.”

“Should I find someone who needs something from me?”

“No,” they both said at once.

Cole pouted. “I’m going to go make out with Sawyer.”

“Not in the walk-in,” Miriam joked.

“As if Levi would ever let me back in his kitchen,” Cole scoffed.

Miriam grimaced. “Someone should probably keep an eye on him, but it can’t be me.”