As I turned on the dance floor, moving my hips, I was surprised to find Elizabeth with her eyes closed, face tilted to the ceiling above. She was rocking her body from side to side, clutching her cold glass of Scotch to her chest. When she opened her eyes and caught me looking, she flashed me with the most genuine smile I’d ever received from her.

“Edmund would have loved this music!” she shouted over the noise. “He was such a sucker for soul music.”

“I wish he was here right now,” I told her, truthfully.

It felt like just moments later that I found myself leaning on Bri and Mara, both of them propping me up from behind. I was so tipsy I could barely walk. At first, I thought they were leading me away from the bar and Bourbon Street, but then I discovered I was in a new club. This one had a band front and center too, and they were playing cover songs.

“I love this song!” I cheered, mouthing the melancholic lyrics to “Something in the Way” by Nirvana. It was one of those songs that was perfect for sad, hormone-riddled teens—Tinsley and I had played it over and over in her mom’s car and in our room at night.

“I know you do,” Tinsley said, mouth close to my ear. “I’m going to go get you a water.”

“Okay!” I shouted, letting Bri guide me over to a long booth near the back of the bar. Out of all of us, she seemed the most sober. Did the beers, bourbon, and shots have no effect on her? I wondered, incredulously. When Tinsley returned with my water, I took large gulps, enjoying the icy cold freshness of it. I’d never tasted anything so good.

Even from the back of the room, the music found me, its rhythm reaching like long, skinny fingers through the crowd, vibrating my chest and filling my heart with a silly flutter of glee. I hadn’t felt this kind of rush since college. The floor beneath my feet was stretching, the crevices in the wood swirling like tiny rivers of rust.

“Drink up. You look like you’re going to keel over,” Tinsley told me, lifting the water glass to my lips and encouraging me to drink some more.

It didn’t take long for the water to work, sobering me up just enough to realize that Elizabeth was ready to leave. She looked exhausted and even drunker than I was, limbs heavy and eyes drooping, slouched over the table.

My blurry eyes moved from one lady to the next, taking in all of my friends’ faces. Georgia was still on her phone—texting Asher? My rush of joy was quickly replaced with paranoia. I had a sudden impulse to yank that phone right out of her hands. Was she having an affair with my fiancé? Who had been sending her weird threats, any why?