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Apparently, all the other bridesmaids are coming later, for a champagne toast, once I’m done. Rachel wanted this time to be just us. Also, she probably didn’t want me anxiety-sweating my new face off before the wedding.

She puts the eyeliner down and grabs a tube of lipstick. “Final touch,” she says. But as her hand moves toward me, I see it’s shaking.

“Hey,” I say. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she says breezily. I raise an eyebrow. She sinks onto one of the chairs beside me, in the warm glow of the modern ceramic lamps. “I’m really nervous,” she admits. “So many people! I don’t know most of them. But I’m also just like … so excited, El. I can’t believe I get to spend the rest of my life with this man. That this incredible person chose me.”

“Well, obviously,” I say.

She chuckles. “And I chose him. Somehow, we found each other. I already had one person in my life, ‘til death do us part.’” She bumps me with her shoulder, and I feel my cheeks warm. “Now I get two? It’s unreal. I almost feel guilty. Like … do I deserve this much happiness?”

Her words strike an echoing chord within me. I have never, ever heard Rachel second guess herself and part of my brain simply can’t compute it. But more importantly, I think I’m finally understanding that Rachel’s love for Diego doesn’t lessen her love for me. Just as my love for Agustín doesn’t lessen my love for her. I’ve been so stressed and scared about losing her, as if a heart is only capable of a certain amount of love, and that love gets split when another person comes into the picture, into smaller and smaller pieces.

But that’s not how it works at all. Our hearts aren’t glass jars that measure love precisely. They’re more like sponges that can absorb and grow and expand as more and more love comes into our lives. My heart is growing three sizes today. Or four. Or five. There’s no limit. I can encompass so much more love than I thought I was capable of.

Tears spring to my eyes.

“El?” Rachel asks worriedly.

“I’m like the Grinch,” I squeak.

Rachel looks confused. “O … kay?”

I laugh and sniffle and throw my arms around her. “Of course you deserve this much happiness,” I say. “You deserve every good thing this world has to offer. And … I really like Diego. I’m glad I’ve gotten to know him better, and I’m sorry it took me so long. I guess I’ve been so scared I would lose you. That things would change. You know how I feel about change.” I pull away to look her full in the face. “But I’ve changed a lot too, these past months.”

“OH EL!” Rachel squeals, and then it’s her turn to tackle me in a hug. “I love you so much, and that’s one thing nothing and no one could ever change.”

I squeeze her close before we release each other, tears in both our eyes.

“Sorry, I don’t want to ruin your work,” I say, trying to blink them away.

“Oh, don’t worry, I gave you waterproof everything.” She winks at me. “Now, pucker up.” She holds up the lipstick, and I dutifully present my mouth. Once she’s finished, she sits back and presses her fingers to her lips.

“What?” I ask warily.

She shakes her head and takes my hand, leading me away from the table covered with various blushes and tubes and eyeshadows and into the ginormous bathroom. “See for yourself.”

My pulse kicks into a sprint as she positions me in front of the huge floor to ceiling mirror. “Oh!” I gasp, my hands flying to my cheeks. “Oh Rachel …”

“You like?” she asks.

The woman in the mirror is nothing like the furtive, skittish person I imagine myself to be. Her cheeks hold the perfect rosy glow, her eyes decorated in muted shades of gold and mauve, making their green color more vibrant than usual. Her eyes seem larger too, outlined subtly in kohl, framed with thick lashes. Her mouth forms a small O, lips painted a decadent red. Her curls are sleek and perfectly spiraled. One side is pinned up with a gold pin in the shape of a butterfly. A more elegant tribute to my favorite clips.

“It’s me?” I say and Rachel laughs.

“It’s you.”

“I look so pretty.”

She nudges me with her hip. “Yes, you silly goose. You’re always pretty. I just highlighted that. Now, let’s get you into your dress before the other bridesmaids get here.”

My stomach flips. “Yes, please,” I say quickly, rushing to grab the garment bag hanging on the bathroom door. I whirl around. “Do you think Agustín will—”

“Yes,” Rachel says, laughing. “He’s going to flip his shit when he sees how stunning you are. But,” she reminds me, raising a finger, “he always thinks you’re stunning. And so do I. You don’t need the makeup, El.” One side of her mouth quirks up into a grin. “But it sure is fun, right?”

I meet Agustín in the lobby at three thirty.

I spent the hour after leaving Rachel’s suite practicing my speech over and over and over in our room. Agustín wasn’t there, so he must have gone somewhere else to get ready. Or probably, he knew I would need a place to be alone.