I wave off her apology and graze the wall until I reach the first step that will lead me to freedom. “No worries. Enjoy and congratulations.” When I’m three steps down, I add, “I wish you all the best.” Why? Because it’s in neither my nor the groom’s interest to reveal what I really think about this situation. Not yet, that is. I’ll just grab that broom and dustpan—oh, and the free hand cream, of course—and find Lina. She’ll know how to handle this.

But when I return to the bridal suite (without the damn lotion because the hotel stocks it in a locked cabinet), Lina is nowhere to be found and isn’t answering my SOS text. Worse, the ceremony’s due to start in minutes.

“Where have you been?” Natalia asks as she dabs powder on a middle-aged woman’s chin and forehead. “I asked for the broom fifteen minutes ago.” She looks at my reflection in the mirror and raises an eyebrow.

I’m fidgeting. She notices.

Natalia twists her upper body—a significant feat given that she’s eight months pregnant—and leans in my direction so only I can hear what she says next. “Everything okay? You look like you’ve seen a naked ghost with a humongous schlong.”

I roll my eyes and puff out a short breath. Natalia frequently speaks in the tongue of her ancestral land: a frat house. “Uh, I’m not sure. It’s just that I saw the bride when I went downstairs and—”

The woman in the chair jumps up, dodging Natalia’s hands as my cousin tries to blot the woman’s face. “Ella’s downstairs? But why? She’s supposed to be here putting the final touches on her makeup.”

Actually, from what I could tell, Ella’s shooting her shot with another man. To Ella’s presumptive relative, I say, “I’m not sure, exactly. Maybe you should check on her?” I eye Natalia and mouth, I need to talk to you. Outside.

She nods, but then Ella sails into the suite and parks herself right between my cousin and me, several tendrils of her blond hair having escaped the intricate topknot she’s chosen as her wedding-day hairstyle. “I’ve got a bit of shine, but we don’t have a lot of time,” the bride says to Natalia. “Could you do a quick refresh?”

Natalia activates her professional mode. “Of course.”

Before Ella drops into the chair, she slides a troubled gaze in my direction. “And who do we have here?”

“This is my cousin Solange. She’s pretending to help me today.”

I give Natalia a dirty look, then add for Ella’s benefit: “I’m also on the groom’s side.”

Ella swallows. “I see.” Then she fans her face. “Is there someone who could get me some water? I’m feeling a little parched.”