Bri was gulping large mouthfuls of wine now; her lips and teeth were stained dark purple, like congealed blood. She gave me a wolfish smile when she caught me looking at them and tilted the bottle back to her lips once more. I’d never seen Bri drunk before. Although she had consumed several glasses, she seemed tipsier than the rest of us. Under the influence of something else, perhaps? I wondered, my thoughts turning sluggish and overly introspective.

“Thank you so much for planning this,” I shouted down the table at Mara. “And you, too, of course.” I lifted my glass in Tinsley’s direction.

“Oh, just you wait until you see the desserts they’re bringing out!” Mara squealed. “I got all your favorites, plus some New Orleans delicacies…” She lifted her wine glass at me, then grinned.

I glanced over at Tinsley again, but she was watching Mara. Something passed between the two of them, something I hadn’t seen before. Gosh. What was everyone’s deal tonight? I had a right to be pissed off—my fiancé might be sleeping with Georgia, the stretchy-legged temptress, but why was everyone else on edge with each other?

Right on cue, Delfina and her helpers emerged from the shadows, as though they had been there all along, simply part of the woodwork and wallpaper design.

“If it’s all right with you, I’m going to clear some space for the desserts now,” Delfina said, directing her question first to Mara, then to me.

“Sounds great,” I said. Although the champagne had tasted okay, a flash of heartburn was already eroding my chest and esophagus. One of the waiters came to fill my glass for a fourth time, but I covered the top and shook my head. I was buzzed enough; I didn’t want to do or say anything to make a fool out of myself or ruin my own party. After all, my friends had gone to so much trouble for me already…

Platters of fish and potatoes were whisked away, jambalaya and soups scooted over for yet more food. All of this food, destined for the garbage probably, I realized. There was so much left uneaten.

I watched as the waiters laid out silver trays and lifted the lids one by one.

“Don’t forget about…” Mara said, glancing over her shoulder at Delfina.

“It’s right here, Miss.” Delfina carried a large white plate with a gorgeous slab of tiramisu in the center of it. Mara had actually chosen my favorite dessert, tiramisu; my mother used to make it for me when she was alive. I hadn’t realized Mara knew that; perhaps Tinsley was the one who told her and picked out the dessert.