Page 17 of Never Sleep with the Enemy

“Hard to believe the day’s finally here,” he says. “I don’t know how Jo fared on the road, but back here?” He shakes his head. “Marla was a wreck. Every day. She kept her chin up, but I could tell.” He glances at them, the two of them perfectly in sync as they glide across the floor. “She missed him so much.”

“Yeah. He missed her, too.” My throat tightens, but I swallow it down. “Are you excited to start your new job?”

Oliver beams. “Yes,” he says, the light of destiny shining in his eyes. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“It suits you,” I reply.

“Thanks.” His eyes twinkle as he glances over my shoulder. “You wanna trade, old man?”

Kingston’s loud laugh booms through the room as he holds Fiona in his arms. He gives me a wink. “Only if the young lady will take me,” he teases.

“Of course,” I say, stepping back as Oliver releases me.

“Yes! Please, Oli…” Fiona says. “Take me away from this one. Forty years together and he still can’t keep up with me.”

She takes Oliver’s hand, and they step away, leaving me with Kingston. His smile lingers on Fiona for a moment before he shifts his attention to me.

“Sorry in advance if I step on your toes, little one,” he says.

I chuckle. “I’m sure I’ll live, Papa B.”

He hums, content, and we dance.

After a few quick minutes, another man approaches and asks to cut in. I smile at Fiona’s father, the former senator of Nevada, Richard Garland, and place my hand in his. One dance with him, and I’m passed off to Bronson. Then Harvey. And Knox.

And finally, Jonah.

Part of me wants to run—wants to escape into the crowd—but any excuse I think of crumbles as I slip my hand into his. His other hand comes to rest on my waist, warm and firm.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low.

“Hi,” I reply, forcing the words through the tightness in my chest, trying not to let our dance look as stiff as it feels. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

“It was a beautiful ceremony,” I say, trying to keep my tone steady, even though my pulse is erratic.

“Yeah. You and Addison killed it.”

“Thanks.” I swallow, wishing I could say something more.

“Thank you again for doing that. I know…” He pauses, his gaze dropping for a beat before finding mine again. “I know you probably didn’t want to.”

“No, I did,” I say, but the words sound hollow, empty. “If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t have…” I trail off, holding my breath, focusing instead on the quarter note pin on his lapel, the polished metal a welcome distraction. “I wanted to.”

“Kat.”

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry.”

I shrug a shoulder, forcing the motion to seem casual. “What for?”

“You know what for.” His voice cracks slightly. “I wanted to talk to you about last night, but there wasn’t any time?—”

“It’s okay, Jonah.”

“Are we?”

---