I point to an impressive display of snacks—and bottled water—on a table a few feet away. “There’s some right there.”

“I’m partial to sparkling, actually,” Ella says, giving me a tremulous smile. “Helps to settle my stomach, which for obvious reasons is doing a number on me today.”

Natalia grins at me sheepishly. “Would you mind, Solange? Maybe ring room service?”

“I tried calling in the hall,” Ella says quickly. “They’re not answering.”

“The café on the mezzanine level, then?” Natalia asks.

Oh, I see what’s going on. Ella wants to get rid of me. I’m probably the only thing standing between her and the marriage she’s hoping to enter.

Gripping the chair handles, Ella leans over and pins me with a feverish gaze. “I understand you don’t have any dog in this fight, but that sparkling water would be just the thing to calm my nerves. It’s my big day, and I’m out of sorts.” She shakes her head as if to clear it. “I don’t do my best thinking under circumstances like these. Can you find it in your heart to do me this one small favor?”

Dog in this fight? Out of sorts? Not her best thinking? This woman’s really something. Using just a few carefully selected phrases, she’s telling me to back off and keep quiet about what I saw. And maybe I should. Still, I can’t help making a plea for her to do what’s obviously best for everyone involved: call off this wedding.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” I ask.

“It . . . it is,” she says, her voice breaking.

“It’s not too late to change your mind, you know.”

“My parents would say otherwise. Besides, I’ve made my choice.”

We stare at each other for a long moment, then I puff out my cheeks and exhale.

“Fine,” I tell her. “Every bride deserves to get what she wants on her big day. Even if it isn’t readily available. I’ll see what I can find.”

She gives me a shaky laugh, then twists around and relaxes against the seat back. Gah. I’m officially drained. A half hour more and Natalia will release me from my duties.

Just get the damn water, Solange, and move on with your life. Intending to do precisely that, I stalk to the door of the suite, then, with a last glance at my cousin, who’s squinting in my direction, I walk across the threshold and resist the ever present urge to meddle in someone else’s business.

When my phone buzzes in my pocket, I pull it out and see a text from Lina:

Sorry. The cellist got lost on her way here. Needed to get her settled. What’s up?

I type a quick reply as I walk to the bank of elevators: never mind. we’re good