Cristina and Jason’s NoHo apartment is a beautiful loft with exposed brick and visible ductwork along the ceiling. Plush rugs and contemporary artwork make the space feel homey even with the industrial atmosphere. The place would be perfect except Cristina swears a stowaway mouse lives in the radiators. She hasn’t spotted her tiny, non-rent-paying roommate yet, but those guys can be unavoidable in an old building like this.

“Now, what’s with all the ‘send help’ messages?” I ask, leaning forward to rip open the bakery bag that’s separating us from our cheesy bread goodness. “Did Jason’s work people still not RSVP? Did the florist finally send over the centerpiece sample?”

I glance around the apartment but see no trace of the human-sized purple orchid centerpieces that are going to grace all forty tables at the reception.

“No, no centerpieces as of yet,” Cristina says. “I have to talk to you about something else.”

Her voice sounds calm but I also catch the uncertainty. I sit back, giving her my full attention. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay with Jason?”

“No. I mean, yes, he’s fine. I’m just a little stressed at the moment and I need you to help center me.”

“Okay, but remember you’re less than a week away from your wedding. Stress is normal.”

“This is not normal. Guess who’s moving in with us for the next six days—what could be considered the most important six days of our lives.”

“I don’t know,” I answer after hesitating. “Jason’s mom?”

“Oh, god, don’t even joke about that! Jason’s mom is encamped at the Four Seasons and would happily remain there for the rest of her natural life. No, I’m referring to your boy toy, Ryan.”

I hate to say it, but the mere mention of Ryan’s name is enough to make my whole body tense. “Ryan is moving in with you? Why?”

“Oh, this is a great story,” Cristina says, laughing without the slightest trace of humor. “Ryan is staying with us because he was kicked out of his hotel. Apparently, he brought his dog with him, because of course people do that when they’re attending out-of-town weddings, and the dog trashed the room while we were at Butter last night.”

“Are you serious?” I ask. “He left his dog in the hotel alone?”

“No, Jason’s other genius groomsman, Beau, was supposed to watch him but decided to go meet up with one of my friends from work. A guest made a noise complaint so the manager went in, and you can imagine what happened from there.”

“And now Ryan and his dog are moving in with you?”