"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!"

At some point, both my parents had come to stand beside me.

My mother had spent decades in business, decisive and hard-edged, the kind of woman who never let her temper reach her face. But even a saint has a breaking point, and hers had been ground down to it. She said nothing, only took my hand and patted it, quiet reassurance.

The veins stood out at my father's temple. He took the phone from my hand, his eyes rimmed red, and spoke with terrible calm.

"Guy. Nora is our only daughter. No one gets to treat her like this in front of me."

"You and Nora were together seven years before it came to this wedding. We wanted this day to go smoothly, all of us. You see it differently than we do, and we don't hold that against you. I only want one thing from you. Send the makeup artist over now. Show me you actually want to marry my daughter."

There was a long hesitation on the other end.

"Dad! Let's think of the big picture first. Help me talk Nora into getting her makeup done, and I'll head over for the pickup right away. The relatives are all here. Don't let outsiders have a laugh at us."

"After the wedding, hit me, yell at me, I'll come crawling to beg forgiveness, whatever you want!"

"Don't call me Dad."

My father hung up, the disappointment plain on his face.

I took my phone back, lowered my head, and opened the wedding-planning group chat.

"Cancel the morning-robe photos. Cancel the bride pickup segment on my end too."

The lead planner replied almost at once.

"And the rest of the schedule? Should we keep it moving as normal?"

I thought for a moment, then typed.

"Keep filming. We'll figure out the rest later."

I lifted my head.

"Dad, Mom. I don't want to just let it go."

My parents exchanged a glance.

My father stepped forward and gently wiped away my tears. He spoke first.

"Don't be afraid, Nora."

I'd heard those words for twenty-seven years. With him there, I truly had nothing to fear.

"Dad's going to go call over all a dozen of your uncles and cousins right now."

I'm an only daughter, but my father has brothers. After those brothers had produced a good ten sons between them, I arrived as the only girl in the whole Simmons family. The most doted on.

My mother pulled me into a light hug.

"Whatever you decide to do next, I'm behind you."

Then she called over the makeup artist we'd found on short notice.

"Would you do my daughter's makeup first? Not a bridal look. Just something that makes her look fresh and put-together."

She turned away to call Judith.

"It's all right that you can't come. Don't do anyone else's makeup, not one person who isn't us."

"We'll pay you all the same."

Harper cursed the cheating scum under her breath, and Chloe rubbed my back, aching for me.

The aunt who'd been overseeing the bride's send-off, who had watched the whole thing, was seething too.

"I'll go explain to our side of the family. No one gets away with bullying a person like this."

The videographer flashed me an okay, letting me know he'd caught all of it.

Guy called again. I rejected every one.

I peeled off the traditional bridal gown and changed into the white dress I always wear.

I sat down in front of the mirror.

Reading Guy's messages, I let out a scornful laugh.

"Baby, another hour and a half and I can come pick you up. Be good."

The makeup artist's hands moved over my face, dabbing and blending.

Maybe it was because things had already fallen so far. The anxiety that had gripped me from the moment I learned the celebrity makeup artist had been "handed over" to someone else, strangely, settled into calm.

The seven years with Guy played through my mind like a film.

We were college classmates.

He fell for me at first sight and came on strong.

Guy was tall and handsome, easygoing, and he had that upperclassman glow, a year ahead of me. Falling for him felt like the natural order of things.

We dated, studied together, went out together, four sweet years.

Until I graduated. We came back to Northfield to build our lives, and his adopted sister began to appear in ours more and more.