My phone buzzes in my hand as I slowly follow my entourage of photographers and videographers and makeup artists down the long hallway on the second floor, my footsteps—and my head—feeling lighter and lighter as we get closer to the end.
I glance around as I answer, reminding myself not to say anything revealing. We’ve made it this far. Don’t want to spoil the surprise now, do we?
“Yes?” I say, garnering a sideways glance from my hairstylist. Who would dare call the bride this close to her wedding? And why would the bride answer?
“We found something,” Molly says, her voice distant and harsh. “Greg is on his way to you. We’ll be there soon.”
I hang up without another word.