Page 76 of Bridesmaid to Bride

West: Zach said Paige has locked herself in the bathroom this time. She won’t come out. Again.

“Oh, jeez.” Paige is so dramatic. And bless Zach’s heart for having patience for her theatrics.

I show Skye the text, and she goes bug-eyed. “You think it’s bad this time?”

I toss some flowers into a vase. “No. Nothing nefarious is happening to Paige, trust me.” My sister is starring in a reality TV wedding for a reason—she belongs in a soap opera, which will probably happen after they see this grand performance at the wedding. “I’ll try texting her, but she doesn’t reply to me right away on a normal day.” I shoot a text off to Paige, and as expected, get no response.

I’m still not worried.

“I know how to get her to reply.” Skye grabs my phone. “I’m telling her all the bridesmaids have pink eye.”

“Ohh, that’s good.” I sit on the bed beside her.

After Skye sends Paige the text, within a minute my sister answers. All she says is, “I’m in hiding and never coming out. Zach deserves better than this.”

“Oh, for hell’s sake.” I close my eyes. “Why does she do this?”

Skye hops off the bed and tugs my arm. “Let’s go.”

After Zach gives us the keycard to the honeymoon suite, Skye and I barge in.

Through the bathroom door, I hear Paige shriek, “Eva? My life is over!” She gasps for air, so I try opening the door, but it’s locked. Instead, I lean into the crack and say, “Okay—just breathe. Whatever’s happening, we’ll figure out a way to fix it.”

“You can’t.” Paige is making that gaspy sound in her throat, a sure sign she’s in hysterics.

“But Skye’s here,” I say.

“Not even Skye can solve this,” Paige says through a sob. “And you have pink eye, so you have to leave… right now.”

“We just made that up to get you to respond,” I say.

“Oh.”

After way too many minutes of Paige vacillating between crying and yelling, “I can’t,” she finally considers coming out of the bathroom. “Promise me you won’t freak out,” she says.

“Promise,” I say, meaning it. “How bad can it be?”

When Paige steps out, I gasp. So does Skye.

“I told you not to do that!” Paige squeals, breaking into tears again. “See? I have to leave town.”

“It’s not that bad.” Skye lies through her teeth—it’s worse than bad. Paige’s face looks like a cherry pop with eyes and a mouth.

“Just a little redness.” Skye’s voice cracks.

“Is there any skin left?” I try not to gag.

After a hiccup, Paige says, “I checked the wrong box on the facial form. Instead of a light refresher that was guaranteed to make my skin glow, I selected a chemical peel that took off my epidermis. I’ll look fabulous…in about ten days.” She sobs again. “Now I’m on painkillers, and I have no skin. None!”

Skye and I exchange looks—this is bad. Really bad.

Then Skye pats Paige’s hand, saying, “We’ll hire a makeup artist. Like Jane Fonda’s—hers is clearly a magician.”

Paige shakes her head. “I already have a magical makeup artist. It won’t work because I have no skin for it to stick to. They’d have to give me a latex face, and I’d end up looking like I’m starring in a horror flick. Believe me, the show has already gone through all the options with me. If they could fix this, I wouldn’t be here hiding. There’s nothing anyone can do. It’s hopeless.”

We stand here, looking around, bouncing off more ideas that get shot down.

West walks through the door and Paige darts back into the bathroom. “Get out, West.”

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