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Iris noted the firmness in Minnie’s handshake. Even with the distraction of the dazzling lights on the dance floor, she could see the confidence held in Minnie’s bright blue irises, a beauty mark dotted beneath her right eye. Her long mane of light brown curls cascaded onto the table when she leaned over to peruse the menu.

“I think we met at the Fourth of July party, actually,” Iris said, hanging her coat over the back of her chair and crossing her ankles as she settled in.

Minnie glanced up, sliding a strand of hair behind one ear. “Oh, that’s right. I completely forgot. I was a little preoccupied that day, I guess.”

Before Iris could ask what she meant by that, a fashionable looking waitress came over to take their orders. Minnie slid the menu across to Iris’ side of the table, and Iris scanned it while Audrey ordered a variety of appetizers for the table to share. Iris wound up ordering just a root beer. She’d never had much of an interest in alcohol, and she was a little too queasy to order extra food.

“Only a week until the wedding,” Iris noted once the waitress had moved away, turning to Audrey and Evette with a smile.

Audrey nodded, her face radiant. “There’s still so much left to do!”

Iris loved seeing Audrey like this, so obviously in love with the life she was just stepping into. But guilt curdled in her stomach when she considered how useless she’d been when it came to wedding preparations. What kind of a Maid of Honor did that make her?

“What can I do to help?” Iris asked anxiously, folding and unfolding her paper napkin on the table.

“Showing up would be very helpful,” said Evette with a grin.

“I know how much you have going on, Iris,” Audrey added, reaching over to take her hand. “Evette and I have everything for the wedding under control, I promise.”

Iris bit her thumbnail, unable to quell her overwhelming guilt. Time really had gotten away from her. She couldn’t believe that the wedding was so near and she had done nothing whatsoever to lessen Audrey and Evette’s burden.

“Hey, didn’t you and Minnie say you wanted to grab something from the bar?” Audrey widened her eyes at Evette, who jumped up at once.

“Oh, that’s right. Minnie?”

Minnie glanced between her sister and her sister’s fiancée, quickly catching on. “Riiight. Yeah. I’ve been dying to try their Margarita.” She grinned at Iris as she scraped back her chair. “It’ll probably take us at least fifteen minutes to do some boozy taste tests.”

As the sisters fused with the crowd, Iris turned to Audrey, bemused. “Very smooth.”

“Well, I wanted to talk to you alone. It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other.”

“I know.” Iris bit her nail again, her brows knit. “Too long. Audrey, I’m really sor⁠—”

“Stop,” Audrey commanded, holding up a hand. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Iris peered down at her hands as a trickle of blood trailed down her thumb. She wiped it surreptitiously on the underside of her napkin, leaning forward so she could be heard over the music. “How are you feeling? It must be hard planning your wedding without your mom.”

It had been several years since Audrey’s mother had passed away, but Iris knew how close they had been.

Her friend’s face fell. “It’s alright. I always knew it would be hard.”

“Is your dad coming?”

She shook her head. “He says he can’t get away from work. It’s fine,” she added, waving her hand in dismissal as Iris made a disbelieving noise. “I’m glad your mom will be there, anyway. You know she’s like a second mother to me.”

Iris nodded, swallowing down the lump in her throat. She had been feeling guilty all day for how she’d spoken to her mom on the phone. She’d have to call later and apologize.

“Oh, hey, I wanted to show you a painting I did last night.” Audrey picked up her phone and chose one of her most recent snapshots, turning the screen to face Iris. “It’s very avant-garde,” she said in a mock-posh voice.

The photo showed a canvas that had been slashed down the middle with a sharp blade. It was slathered in thick, congealed globs of crimson and onyx interspersed with ghost-white streaks of paint. Iris wondered what on earth could have been the inspiration for such a piece. She hoped Audrey was truly as content as she appeared.

Iris suppressed a shudder. “Wow, that’s an interesting one.”

“It’s not meant to be pretty,” said Audrey defensively. “It’s supposed to be raw.”

The painting reminded Iris of something, but she couldn’t put her finger on what. She stared blankly at the dance floor, blind to the pulsating lights and dancers in various states of drunkenness.

For some reason, the image of Blair’s wild bloodshot eyes on First Night flashed unbidden into her mind, and she had a sudden unpleasant thought: Would the wedding be too much for him? Should she ask Blair if he’d be willing to stay home? She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but at the same time…