“Well,” Cristina says, no doubt sensing our awkwardness. “I don’t know about you guys, but Jason and I are starting with the gnocchi mac ’n’ cheese. I would bathe in that stuff if I could work out the logistics.”

Neither of us says anything and Cristina clears her throat as she goes on, “Okay then, how about we talk wedding business instead?” She reaches into the tote bag beside her and slams her thick wedding binder onto the table, rattling the cutlery and glasses.

“Yes,” I agree, inching closer to the table. “I cross-checked the seating chart before I left, and all two hundred and eighty guests are accounted for.”

Ryan lets out a slow whistle at the final head count. This wedding is no joke. I nearly fainted in relief when Cristina asked if it would be okay for her cousin to give the toast at the reception instead of me, since I usurped her by becoming maid of honor. The mere thought of speaking in front of that many people had me instantly scouring the internet for a doppelgänger to recite the speech in my stead. This is New York City, after all—I bet it could have been doable.

“Also, I’m picking up my dress from the tailor on Tuesday. It’s only a couple of blocks away from the bridal salon, so if you need me to grab anything for you or any of the other bridesmaids, just let me know.”

“Perfect.” Cristina opens the binder and pulls out a pen. “The big day is almost here and it’s imperative we all keep our focus.”

Jason looks at me with a trace of fear and I take a big sip of my water. This is going to be a long night.

An hour later, our main courses are brought out and we have only just finished reviewing our nuptial responsibilities for the week. Cristina had no trouble laying down the law as Jason and Ryan jumped in every now and then with baiting comments. I just tried to enjoy the bread basket and not make any sudden movements.

“So, Ryan, tell us about how you and Kara met.” Jason is smiling as he looks at us over his pork chop, blissfully unaware that his question just dropped onto the table like an unpinned grenade.

My fork stops in midair.

“I know you guys dated for a bit, but how did it all get started?”

My eyes dart to Cristina and she gets the message. She’s a second away from changing the subject when Ryan quietly rests his fork down on his plate.

“We had a class together my junior year,” he says.

“And you guys just started talking?”

“Sort of. I sat down next to her and pulled the romance novel she was reading out of her hands.”

“Did you really?” Jason asks. “Well, that’s one way to go about things. Did you always steal girls’ books?”

“Not usually, no.”