She considered this carefully. “Only in my tummy.”
“That’s normal.”
She put down a strawberry. “Aunt Vanessa looked mad yesterday.”
I glanced at her. “What do you mean?”
“She smiled with her teeth, but her eyes didn’t.”
Children noticed everything. They just lacked the adult habit of pretending otherwise.
“She’s stressed,” I said, more for my own comfort than hers.
Sophie nodded, but she didn’t look convinced.
We headed to the main bridal suite a little after ten. The estate’s largest villa had been taken over by bridesmaids, hair stylists, makeup artists, photographers, garment bags, curling irons, mimosas, and enough white furniture to make the whole place feel one spilled drink away from disaster.
Vanessa stood in the center of it all in a silk robe with “BRIDE” stitched across the back in gold. Her blonde hair was clipped into sections. Half her makeup was done. Even unfinished, she looked like the kind of woman who made rooms adjust themselves around her.
When she saw us, her gaze went first to Sophie.
“You’re late,” she said.
It was 10:03.
I kept my tone even. “We were told ten.”
Vanessa looked at the wall clock, then at me, as if time itself had offended her. “Hair started five minutes ago. Whatever. Just don’t let her touch anything.”
Sophie immediately pulled her hands to her chest.
