“Move down the hall a bit. We’ll wait for Sophie nearer the door … She better hurry up.” Leila huffs impatiently, gently pushing us, bossy pants back on and face flawless. She’s checking the time on her wristwatch and frowning at Sarah, who is looking up and down the hall for any sign of our missing bridesmaid. I don’t expect anything else from Sophie nowadays, the girl is a fifteen-year-old ball of fun, but we all adore her mercilessly.

Giovanni leads me out of the hallway ...