“You also can’t serve them prepackaged mini quiche.” Angi spoke through clenched teeth. She tapped a finger on the rim of her empty wineglass. “Was the plan to get me liquored up to soften the blow?”

“No,” Emma and Mariella said at once.

“The appetizers weren’t even on the agenda.” Mariella gave a pointed look at Emma. “You weren’t supposed to mention them.”

“I don’t know which ones to go with,” Emma argued, throwing her hands up before sending a beseeching glance at Angi. “It’s just this once, I swear. We didn’t want to upset you or stress you out any more.”

“This must be what rock bottom feels like,” Angi muttered, then dug in her purse for her keys. “I need to go get supplies. I’ll have new appetizers here tomorrow—noon at the latest. What time is the wedding?”

“Two,” Mariella said at the same time Emma stepped forward. “No, it’s fine. You don’t have to redo anything.”

“Of course I do. My reputation is synonymous with the food the inn serves at its events.”

“I thought you were done with our partnership,” Emma said quietly.

“We seriously invited you over to make you feel better,” Mariella added. “Not so you could swoop in and save the day.”

“Sleep is overrated,” Angi said with a weak smile.

“We’ll help,” Emma offered.

Mariella snorted. “Uh, I don’t cook.”

“You can chop or clean up.”

Angi waited for Mariella to refuse. The former designer to the stars hadn’t exactly lost her sophisticated edge. Angi couldn’t imagine Mariella taking orders from anyone.

“Tell me what to do,” she said, placing her still-full wineglass in the kitchen sink. “Give me a list and I’ll do the grocery run. They’re open until midnight on weekends, so I’ve got forty-five minutes. Surely we can knock out food for a reception of fifty in a few hours?”

“You’re seriously going to roll up your cuffed sleeves and be my sous-chef servant?”

“Why is that such a shock?”

Emma leaned closer to her. “Because you avoid domestic work like you’re allergic to it.”

“I might be,” Mariella admitted. “But my friend needs the help, so I’m going to give it to her.”

“Thank you,” Angi said quietly.

“Me, too,” Emma added. “I know the whole situation was my fault, and I really am sorry. I’ll stay up as long as you need.”

Angi sucked in an unsteady breath. This was in no way how she’d planned to spend her Friday night, but both Andrew and her mom had gone to bed. Bianca was doing much better than even her doctors had expected after the surgery, and Angi knew her mother would call if there was a problem.

The truth was, she didn’t want to go back home to the bedroom still decorated with her stuffed animal collection and posters featuring various boy band members. She should have updated the room, but changing things to reflect her adult taste felt too much like giving in and admitting she was right back where she started.