Over the rim of his glass, Máxim said, “Yes, Katya, tell us all about them.”

“My mom was from Cuba. She met my father when he visited from the US.” The weight on my chest was returning.

Servers approached with the first course, distracting the table’s attention from me. Gracias a Dios.

Under his breath, Máxim said, “How much of that was true?”

“Whatever you think is true, multiply that by ten. Oh, wait, anything multiplied by zero equals zero.”

“For future reference, a US citizen would have difficulty traveling to Cuba, especially twenty-plus years ago.”

“Thanks for the tip,” I said, instead of crying, “My father was an attaché there!” One day this boiler was going to blow. . . .

Over the next hour, the dishes continued to arrive. Some were Midwest Americana, some traditional Russian—both exotic to me. The cook in me relished the experience. When I tasted pelmeni, meat dumplings, I told Máxim, “This is really good.”

At my ear, he murmured, “I’d much rather be eating Cuban.”

I coughed and kicked him.

All throughout the meal, he kept his eyes on me. When he wasn’t indulging in the courses, he rested his arm over the back of my chair. Protective, possessive.

He wasn’t the only one studying me. Aleks seemed to be taking my measure. Even Natalie cast me a couple of quizzical looks over her wineglass.

After the dessert course—Jess inhaled her red velvet cake, then trespassed on mine—she rose, telling Máxim, “I hope you’re ready with your best-man speech. We’re doing our dog and pony shows tonight, while I’m still coherent.”

Rebecca said, “What? You can’t! Those come after the ceremony.”

Jess blinked. “No. This works best for me.” When Rebecca started to bluster, Jess said, “This is how they do it in Russia. Ask Maksim.”

Rebecca turned to him. “Is that true?”

Máxim gave a measured answer, “The most prominent Russian families fairly much do as they please.”

Jess cast her a see? look. “In any case, the wedding coordinator ordered that this happen tonight. And who is she? Oh, yeah—she’s me. Relax, Becks. Remind me to get you a Valium.”

Rebecca turned to her daughter to do something, but Natalie said, “Jess’s coup to oust the coordinator was successful, Mom. We’re slaves to her dictates now.”

Rebecca faced Jess. “What are you going to do?”

“A vid.” At that, she swerved toward the front of the hall, to a computer.

“A video?” Rebecca whispered, aghast.

“Listen up,” Jess called as she queued up a video on a large screen against one wall. “Hey, errybody!” When the room quieted, she said, “I’d introduce myself, but let’s face it, my reputation precedes me, and I’ve slept with half of you. As maid of honor and coordinator for such a rush-job wedding, I did a vid instead of a speech. You’re welcome.” She pushed play, then returned to her seat.

She’d put together a compilation of pictures from the last couple of months of Natalie and Aleks’s relationship.

Leaning in toward me, she said, “Keep your eye on Aleks in the pics. He fucking worships the ground Natalie walks on.”

It was true. He always had his gaze on his fiancée. Such devotion! Also interesting was the evolution of his expressions. At first, he looked stern and uncomfortable. As time passed he loosened up, even giving tentative smiles.

There were pictures of an older gentleman with twinkling blue eyes—must be Natalie’s birth father, Pavel Kovalev. As Natalie watched, tears welled. Even steely Aleks was moved.

The last frame was the date of the wedding with a message from Jess. “As you go about your married lives together, always remember: Dance like nobody’s watching.”

While there were a ton of Awws, I thought that was kind of lame.

Then another line appeared to complete the message. “Dance like nobody’s watching. Fuck like everyone is.”

Oh, no she didn’t! I turned to her. “There went the last little piece of my heart, Jessica.”

She air-smooched me.

Red-faced Rebecca screwed her eyes shut, but everyone was laughing. Natalie had to hold her stomach; even Aleks chuckled.

Máxim laughed, telling me, “Like I said, colorful.”

Rebecca pointed at her. “We will talk later.”

Jessica belched into her fist. “What?”

Smoothing her hair, Rebecca addressed Máxim, “I suppose if you have a speech, you should go now.”

Had he prepared one? As best man—and brother—would he mention their family? Aleks and Máxim hated their father. Their mother was dead. Natalie’s family was full—an adoptive father and mother, a birth father and mother, and now a stepfather she clearly liked. How was Máxim going to handle that?

“Of course, Rebecca,” he said, his tone casual.

As Máxim stood, Aleks grew visibly nervous. Did he expect coldheartedness from his brother? Scheming? Natalie held his hand on the table.

Anyone else might have been tentative addressing a gathering like this, but Máxim, the politician, was all confidence. He gazed around with that I command all I survey look, until the room quieted. Even Jess sat up and paid attention.

In a self-deprecating tone, he asked the crowd, “How am I going to follow Jessica’s eloquence?” Laughter sounded. Then he flashed a movie-star smile that wowed everyone. I could have sworn I heard sighs. One rapt server paused midserve, holding a plate in the air.