“My veil!” she screamed, grabbing the fabric and staring at the smudge as though I’d set it on fire. “You ruined it! You did this on purpose, you jealous, pathetic witch!”

“Chloe. Stop. People are watching,” I warned, my voice dropping into a low, dangerous register.

“Let them watch!” She looked around wildly, and her eyes landed on a terrified waiter frozen mid-stride with a silver tray of drinks.

She snatched a heavy, full bottle of vintage Pinot Noir off it.

“Get out of my life!”

She swung.