Oh, God, now her stomach decided to churn. Her fingers tightened around the boxes.

Remi flapped her hands in her direction. “Here, let’s get these set up.” She indicated the tables where the food was on display, with the cake and cupcake stands already laid out.

The urge to step back until she made it to the front gate and out to the street was real. She’d call the driver to come get her and take her back to her apartment with the offending good enough cakes.

“Cherry, what are you doing?” Remi’s forehead creased. “Let go of the boxes.”

“I can’t let people eat these.”

“Say what now?”

Cherisse smiled over at Mrs. Jones—who silently watched the not-quite tug of war she and Remi had going on over the boxes—then whispered to her bestie, “Everything was a rush. These are probably awful. I sampled before I left home, and I think they were okay? But...oh my God, listen to me. I think they were okay? I don’t do okay, Remi. Okay isn’t my thing.”

“Nothing you make could ever be just okay. You know it, I know it. The damn feature in Island Bites magazine and on their blog sure as shit knows it. Didn’t Merril Berry say your cakes were like magic in your mouth or something? I made sure those photos were drool-worthy, and you know they were.”

The popular food blogger had raved about her desserts, and as a photographer for Island Bites, Remi had made certain the photos were on point, but... “Kieran basically insinuated they were overrated,” she mumbled.

Remi made a face, mouth twisting to the side. “Keiran King is overrated. Why do you let that guy even get under your skin like this? You see him for a few seconds, and he’s already making you doubt your food? C’mon, Cherry.” She tugged at the boxes until Cherisse finally released them.

“You just want to get a taste before everyone else.” Remi was right, though. Keiran was an irritation whose words meant nothing.

“Damn right, I do. Best friend perks and all that. Now, go find your sis and grovel for being late. I’ll deal with this deliciousness.”

Cherisse let Remi do her thing and pretended not to notice the questioning look Mrs. Jones shot her way. She hated the insecurities that popped up at the worst times, but after last year’s fiasco... Nope, now wasn’t the time to think about all that.

She found Ava chatting with their parents and Eric under the shade of several mango trees. Cherisse barely had time to throw a “hi” at them and receive any disapproving looks from her mother that said Cherisse’s lateness was noted and not at all appreciated before Ava wrapped her up in a big hug.

“I thought you ditched us.” Ava beamed. Cherisse’s stomach settled a bit. She’d thought for sure Ava would be pissed.

“I’m really sorry. Forgive me?”

Ava played with the ends of Cherisse’s hair. “Nothing to forgive. You’re always on time, and I’m always late. I told Eric our wedding day might be the first and last thing I’m on time for, so he should appreciate that. He’s already got a bet going.”