To make me the most beautiful bride, my mother pulled strings a full year in advance and paid a hundred thousand to book the celebrity makeup artist favored by a hot young starlet.

But on the wedding day, the artist still hadn't shown, so my mother called to chase her down.

The artist sounded completely innocent.

"I got here early. The groom picked me up and took me to his little sister's place first. He said the bride had already agreed to let me do the sister's makeup first."

I called Guy, and he was breezy about the whole thing.

"Oh, that. Girls her age like to look pretty. You're the older one, just let her have this. The second she's done I'll have someone drive the artist straight over to you. One flick of the gas pedal, that's all."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"So at our wedding, behind my back, you took the makeup artist my mother spent a hundred thousand to book, and sent her to do your little sister's makeup first?"

His patience thinned.

"It's a happy day. Do you have to blow everything up into some big deal? There's plenty of time anyway!"

I checked my watch. Three hours until the bride pickup.

I swallowed the irritation and explained to him patiently.

"There isn't plenty of time! Bridal makeup is complicated and slow, and after that I still have to shoot the morning-robe photos. It's tight as it is, and my mother and my two best friends, my bridesmaids, all need their makeup done too."

"So what? You can all just make do and do it yourselves!"

"Baby, even without any makeup you're the most beautiful girl in the world to me."

Beep, beep, beep. He hung up.

I gripped the phone, my chest going tight,

and suddenly seven years of love felt like nothing at all. Was there even any point in going through with this wedding?

——

My two best friends, who had heard the whole call, exchanged looks.

Harper Matthews, the fiery one, dropped the ceremony script she'd spent all night rehearsing and blew up first.

"What is wrong with this Guy Harding? Doesn't he know the bride comes first on her wedding day?"

"Making the artist your aunt booked for a hundred thousand do her makeup first? Who does she think she is?"

"That doesn't sound like a little sister to me. Sounds more like a little something on the side!"

Chloe, the gentle one, tugged at her sleeve.

"Ease up. Right now what matters is fixing this."

My mother's smile, fixed in place all morning, faded, but she took my hand and spoke without hesitation.

"Don't worry, Nora Simmons. I'll call the artist myself and tell her to come right now."

"As long as she gets here in time to do your makeup, it's fine. We can figure out the rest."

I looked out at the pitch-black sky and gave a numb nod.

But inside I was thinking, no wonder Guy, who never lifted a finger for anything, had suddenly asked me for the artist's contact info yesterday, and whether a celebrity's go-to artist really was that much more skilled than an ordinary one.

I'd thought he was asking about every little detail because he cared, and I'd even bragged to him, pleased.

"Of course she's better! She's priceless, in demand everywhere. Without connections you couldn't book her no matter how much money you threw at it. Just wait, tomorrow I'll take everyone's breath away."

What a joke, that this was what he'd been planning all along, to snatch her away and get his little sister's makeup done first.

The phone rang for a long time before anyone picked up,

and then Ada Sullivan's mother's careless voice came through the receiver.

"The artist? She's doing my Ada's makeup right now. No time to take calls."

My mother pressed down her anger and kept her voice as steady as she could.

"That's the artist I paid to book especially for my daughter. If she doesn't come now it'll ruin the wedding! The kids don't know any better, but you adults should be reminding them, shouldn't you?"

"Oh, don't fret, we're practically family. Guy and my Ada have been close since they were little, there's nothing we can do about it, she absolutely insisted on getting done first. Says an artist this good is one most people never get the chance to hire."

My mother hung up, her face cold, and said,

"They have no intention of letting the artist come."

My aunt, there to see the bride off, stared wide and cursed.

"What kind of nonsense is this? I've been to plenty of weddings and I've never seen anyone hijack the bride's makeup artist! Have they no shame?"

The clock on the wall ticked on. Two and a half hours until the groom's party came to fetch me.

The videographer hovered with his camera, choosing his words.

"We really need to get the makeup started, or there won't be time for the morning-robe photos."

The photographer spoke up too, careful and quiet.

"Do we keep filming?"

I was so furious I almost laughed. My nails bit into my palm.

"Film. Film me. I'm calling Guy Harding again right now."

He picked up, and it all came out of me in one breath, hurt and rage.

"Guy, my mom paid a hundred thousand for this makeup artist. She called in every favor she had and booked her a full year ahead."

"This is my wedding. The most important day of my life. Today, the most beautiful person there has to be me. You know how much this wedding means to me!"

"Do you know your precious little sister has her hoarding the artist, refusing to let her come? Tell them to send her over right now, and the wedding can still go ahead!"

For this wedding, Mom and I had started planning a year and a half in advance. My gown was a custom piece a designer had spent six months making by hand. We'd hired an online photography team to record it. I'd even bought ten versions of the party favors, going through them one by one until they were right.

Guy soothed, slow and easy.

"Okay, okay, baby, don't get worked up. I'll go tell Ada to hurry, all right?"

My voice cracked.

"No! I said now! The artist has to come now! Do you understand me? Not one more minute!"

Guy let out a sigh.

"Baby, be reasonable. She's almost done over here. I'll be quick, all right?"

Something went slack in me, the helpless feeling of a fist that can't punch through a phone.

I hung up. Tears fell in fat drops onto the back of my hand.

Ada was the little sister who had to be indulged, so Guy always made me give way. At dinner I had to let her order first. On outings I had to let her go first. And now, at the one wedding I would ever have, I was supposed to give up the makeup artist too!

Seven years of dating, a husband I chose myself, and on the most important day of my life, in front of my best friends and my relatives, he was tearing my dignity off my face and grinding it into the floor.

I finally broke and sobbed into Chloe's shoulder.

Harper and Chloe started crying too, but they held me and comforted me, telling me a bride mustn't cry on her wedding day.

Dad, who'd stayed up all night without sleep, heard me and set down the double-happiness cutout he was pasting up.

He hurried in to calm me.

"Don't cry, sweetheart, Dad's here. No one gets to bully you."

Just then Mom's phone rang.

Judith Pruitt the makeup artist's voice came through, a little bewildered.

"So, the thing is, I've finished the sister's makeup, but they won't let me leave."

"They say since I'm already here, I should do the mother's makeup too."

"You're the client. Our package only covers one mother's look. Do you want me to do hers?"

"No!" Mom said before she'd even thought.

"Judith, please, just come over to the location I already gave you for my family, and hurry. You don't need to do makeup for anyone who isn't part of this."

"All right, understood." Judith gave the short reply, but she didn't hang up. She left the phone on speaker.

There was a stir on the other end, and I heard Ada's soft voice come through.

"Guy, I'm fine, really. Judith can go do Nora's first."

"But my mom watched you grow up, and she cares so much about your wedding. She wanted to get her makeup done so she'd look presentable there."

She must have been on the phone with Guy.

Before I could say a word, the makeup artist's line went dead.

The word that the makeup artist would arrive soon lifted the whole room.

My mother smoothed the creases in her red wedding dress, pulled herself together, and started reworking the plan.

"Nora waits for the real artist. Harper, Chloe, bear with me a little—I'll get two backup artists over here right now to do the rest of us."

Harper jumped in at once.

"Don't worry, Marina, we're easy. It's Nora's big day. We'll keep it looking the way it should."

Chloe gave my shoulder a comforting squeeze.

My father said nothing. He only clenched his fists and looked at me with such pain that the tears started spilling down my face again.

He'd named me Nora, held me like something precious for twenty-seven years, and never once let me so much as pick up a fallen bottle.

When friends teased him—a doctoral advisor at a top university giving his daughter such a plain, ordinary name—he only smiled.

"What do any of you know. I want everyone to see the name and understand instantly: my daughter is my most treasured girl, my little princess."

But the little princess he'd cherished for twenty-seven years, who had never once been wronged, was wronged to the fullest on her wedding day, at the hands of the man who was supposed to be her husband.

And for the sake of his daughter's face, he couldn't blow it all up at this moment and make things worse. He could only grind his teeth and stay silent.

The clock ticked on. Another dozen-odd minutes slid past, and the black night began to pale at the edges.

Mom pulled every string she had and rushed in two makeup artists to start on the others.

The frozen air in the room finally began to loosen.

Guy called again.

One of the aunts there to see the bride off teased,

"Answer it, quick. He's calling to apologize—maybe the artist's almost there."

"You two lovebirds, be sweet. It's a happy day, work it out nicely."

I twisted my mouth, and yet I still picked up with a flicker of hope.

"Baby, don't get mad, just hear me out. There's really no way Judith can make it over in time now, so why not have her do Ada's mom's makeup while she's close by? It adds some class to our wedding, too."

"I've already contacted another artist near your place to head over. That's faster. Let's not hold up the wedding."

It was a bucket of cold water straight over my head. My ears rang, and I nearly missed what he'd said.

The talking in the room cut off in an instant. Every hand stopped mid-motion.

Harper and Chloe stepped in at once, one on each side, steadying my back.

My voice came out hoarse.

"Guy, do you even want to marry me?"

He pressed down his impatience.

"Baby, of course I do. It's just a makeup artist, anyone can do it. Be reasonable. I only want to get this sorted out fast."

I raised my voice.

"Even now, you still think this is about a makeup artist?"

"This is my face! They're grinding me into the dirt! My own wedding, the artist I hired with my own money, and instead of doing the bride's makeup she's being sent by you to do some nobody adopted sister and the adopted sister's mother! Who exactly are you marrying?"

"Seven years together. Everything you asked me to give up, I gave up. But my own wedding—do you want me to hand that over to someone else, too?"

Hearing me scream it out like something torn from my chest,

for a moment Guy wavered,

then he remembered what his mother had told him.

"A marriage is either the east wind bearing down on the west or the west bearing down on the east! Nora's family is well-off. If you don't get a grip on her early, you're the one who'll suffer down the line!"

He hardened his heart.

"There's less than two hours until the pickup! You don't want our wedding turning into a joke, do you?"

"Stop making a scene. Just make do and get your makeup done. Once the wedding's over, whatever you want as compensation, I'll agree to it!"