“Just make sure it’s not coconut shrimp. She’s allergic,” Rosalee said, touching the waiter’s elbow. I gave her a small, grateful smile, and looked over at Mara. She was always watching, always analyzing my every move, it seemed. Once again, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that she’d been the one responsible for organizing the caterers to prepare the coconut cake.. For the rest of the weekend, I’d have to be careful. For more reasons than just the silly, overprotective likes of Mara.

Despite the buzzing crowds at the restaurant, our food arrived in record time. We had all ordered fried food, and Rosalee had asked for a round of beers for us all. I hadn’t realized she was a beer drinker, but it made sense—Asher loved cheap beer, too. I smiled, imagining the two of them at home together on the weekends, drinking beer and watching baseball. Asher had never been the sporty kid his parents wanted him to be; he liked watching and cheering, but he had hated playing.

“Cheers to all of you,” Rosalee said, lifting her bottle. I clinked mine to hers, then reached across the table to touch Tinsley’s bottle too. Tinsley had been quiet all evening, but she seemed to be quiet in general so perhaps that was the norm for her.

“Yes, cheers,” Elizabeth said, mouth droopy at the corners. I hadn’t realized she was buzzed already, but then remembered the champagne the masseuse had offered her earlier.

“To a long and happy marriage with my son. Welcome to our family. I can’t think of a better daughter,” Elizabeth said, smiling broadly at Rosalee.

Rosalee looked stunned, mouth dropping momentarily, before she collected herself and replied, “Thank you so much, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth didn’t look at me when she said those words, but I knew she’d said them to take a sneaky dig at Bri and me. If she thought being kind to Asher’s future bride would hurt my feelings, she was sorely mistaken.

I glanced over at Bri, wincing when I saw the painful look on her face.

“Hear, hear!” I said, lifting the bottle to my lips and chugging half of it down in one long swig. I hadn’t had an ice-cold beer in so long—not only did it taste good but it was a welcome distraction from Elizabeth’s anger and the feeling that, at the moment, everyone seemed to want me dead. .

It was mostly all smiles around the table as we dipped our greasy seafood and sides in ketchup and chatted about nothing, and everything. I lifted my phone, using the camera to take several quick photos of the candid moments for my Instagram feed. Now, that is the perfect group photo, I thought, the edges of the room blurring as the beer kicked in, warming up my belly.