I shake my head slightly. Not worth it.
The makeup artist starts on me. Foundation, contour, eyeshadow. I close my eyes and let him work. The brushes are soft against my skin and I try to focus on that instead of Melissa’s comments.
“Tell us more about Rodriguez,” Olivia says. “What’s he like? Besides gorgeous and clearly obsessed with you.”
I open my eyes. “He’s—” I pause. “He’s good. Like genuinely good. He pays attention to things. Remembers details. Makes everything fun.”
“And he’s completely gone for you,” Emma adds. “It’s so obvious.”
“We’re very happy for you,” my mom says quietly. “After Garrett—Rodriguez seems like the real thing.”
Melissa shifts but doesn’t say anything.
Rodriguez
Garrett just said something.
My stomach drops.
The makeup artist finishes and I look at myself. Full face, perfect hair. I look beautiful but I don’t look like me.
I check my phone. Nothing.
“Time for the dress!” Olivia announces.
Everyone moves to help her. Holding the skirt, buttoning the back, adjusting the train. It takes all of us working together.
When she’s finally in it, fully dressed, we all just stare.
My little sister looks like a bride.
“Oh my god,” I breathe.
“Don’t cry,” Olivia warns. “If you cry, I’ll cry.”
“Too late.” Our mom is already crying.
We take photos. The photographer is clicking constantly. Olivia with her bouquet. Olivia with our mom. All the bridesmaids. Me and Olivia together.
I check my phone between poses.
Still nothing.
Everything okay?
There’s a read receipt, but no response.
We cycle through more photos, more champagne, the energy in the room building to something electric that I can barely feel through my growing panic.
I check again.
Something’s wrong. He wouldn’t just stop responding. Not without reason.
Rodriguez seriously are you okay?
“Jules, come here for a photo,” Emma calls.
I smile. Pose. Check my phone the second we’re done.
