Page 15 of Never Sleep with the Enemy

It was never going to be me.

Because I was never his muse.

I take a deep breath, forcing some of the numbness from my chest, exhaling slowly.

Jonah was there for me. I’ll be here for him now.

For a few blissful moments, the heartache fades, and I watch as one of my oldest friends marries his muse.

I watch as they repeat their vows with trembling voices. As Knox jokingly pretends to have misplaced the rings before passing them off with a wink and a grin. As Jonah rolls back Marla’s veil, exposing her beautiful face, their eyes full of love.

“I do,” they say.

And I hold my peace.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Stella says, smiling, blinking away tears. “Jonah… eh, you know what to do.”

A ripple of laughter flows through the crowd as Jonah cups Marla’s face, kissing her softly. The applause erupts, even from me. But as Jonah tries to pull away, Marla grips his tie and pulls him back for a deeper kiss.

Addison turns around, quickly dabbing her eyes before nodding at me—our final cue. We step back from the line and return to our instruments.

I settle on my stool, my violin resting comfortably under my chin.

3-2-1…

The chapel fills with the sound of music again, with a song familiar to all Criminal Records fans.

Marla’s head swivels in our direction. She gasps, her laughter ringing out, bright and full of joy, as we play a somewhat refined version of her favorite song.

Down down baby, all the way.

Down down baby, whadya say?

Jonah takes her hand, and together they hop down the aisle, breaking into a happy run.

Husband and wife.

‘Til death do they part.

6

KATRINA

The Botsford Plaza ballroom is packed.

Wedding guests mill around, their plates and bellies full of delicious food, their cheeks flushed with the warmth of the open bar—manned by none other than Doc the Bartender himself.

I stick with club soda, my stomach still rippling from the night before. I try to distract myself, focus on anything but that. I listen to the toasts and speeches, to the laughter, to the heartfelt tributes, all while refusing to let myself confront whatever answers lie beyond the questions threatening to burn a hole through me.

What happened last night?

Why did I wake up in Logan Shock’s bed?

Why was I naked?

Why—

I pinch my eyes closed, cutting off the thoughts I promised myself I wouldn’t have. I scold myself for being so unbelievably stupid.

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