Page 13 of Never Sleep with the Enemy

“I didn’t say anything,” she says.

“You were about to.”

“What happened last night?”

“See?”

She doesn’t back down, her eyes trained on mine, unblinking, as if trying to peer inside my head.

“Nothing,” I say, sighing. “Nothing happened. I drank a little too much wine at Marla’s party, stumbled back to my room?—”

“When you ran into Jonah?”

“Maybe.” My lips press together, a hard line. “I don’t really remember.”

“You were crying.”

“I do that when I drink. That’s actually why I don’t like to drink. Butsomebodykept refilling my glass.” I send her a pointed look.

“Those weren’t drunk-girl tears, Kat.” Her voice softens, but there’s still an edge of concern. “Those were heartbroken-girl tears.”

I say nothing. I can’t.

“Katrina,” she says gently, her tone shifting. “I didn’t know you still had feelings for him.”

I exhale slowly, trying to clear the tension in my chest as Harvey waves at us from the back of the room.

“The show goes on, Addison,” I reply, propping my violin beneath my chin.

Addison wants to say more, but she holds back, her fingers light on her strings.

Seconds later, the room fills with the soft strum of her guitar, and the crowd’s chatter fades into quiet whispers of anticipation. Signaled by the music, Jonah and Knox step out onto the altar, the officiant a step ahead of them: Stella Walsh, the Botsford family lawyer and lifelong family friend.

Always composed, Stella is practically glowing today, her smile as warm as the sun streaming through the stained glass windows above. As the three of them settle near the front, she leans over and whispers something into Jonah’s ear that makes him grin widely. He mouths a silent thank you before accepting a light tap on his clean-shaven cheek.

Before she steps back, Knox leans in and whispers something as well, prompting an instant eye-roll from Stella. She shifts back into place, and Jonah pats my brother’s arm. Knox shrugs before stepping back, the crowd humming with amusement over the mysterious exchange.

All the while, I watch Jonah, my breath tight in my chest. Perfectly coiffed, he looks almost unrecognizable in his black suit. His usual navy blue beanie is absent. A navy blue tie adds a touch of color instead. A golden handkerchief is tucked into his breast pocket, and on the other side, a quarter-note pin—the only visible piece of his music passion—gleams in the light.

Harvey opens the wide double doors behind us, and I ready my bow against the strings. My first notes ofCanon in Decho through the room, blending smoothly with Addison’s guitar. A traditional choice, but one I would have chosen myself. It carries through the space, filling the silence with anticipation, setting the stage for everything that comes next.

Bronson and Jordan walk through the doors first. She looks absolutely stunning in her blue dress, her long hair cascading over one shoulder. Beside her, Bronson looks dapper as all hell in his suit. While she grins, he keeps a straight face, his gaze fixed ahead until he steals a quick glance at her. In that moment, his stoic expression cracks, and love and adoration for her floods his face.

A few feet behind them, Ira and Veronica march in. Veterans of armed forces, they’re no strangers to pageantry and tradition. They walk with heads held high, shoulders square and taut, their steps perfectly synchronized.

Then, the exact opposite. Hayden and Penelope drift in, their movements unsteady as they fight back giggles. Penelope tries to keep her head held high, resisting the urge to glance down at the floor, as if it might disappear beneath her feet. Hayden’s handsome chin pops into the air, an Ira-ribbing grin that sends ripples of laughter through the crowd.

As I watch the procession unfold, a strange sensation prickles at the base of my neck, a feeling as though someone is watching me. I scan the crowd, but everyone’s attention is fixed on the aisle, on the unfolding moments. But the feeling lingers, subtle but insistent. I shake it off, focusing on the next pair stepping down.

Next come Graham and Jennifer. They eloped in this very chapel a few years ago, and it’s written all over their faces as they walk down the aisle together. Their expressions are steady, bright with nostalgia, each step filled with a quiet, shared memory. For a moment, their eyes meet. Graham mouthsI love you, and Jennifer’s pink lips curl into a smile that could melt anyone’s heart.

Finally, Angie enters alone, pulling double duty as both the maid of honor and the mother of the bride. Tall and radiant, she practically floats down the aisle, her smile full of pride and joy. Halfway down, she glances toward a late-twenty-something man sitting at the end of a pew; her smile widening as she winks at him. The blush creeping up his neck only makes her smile grow.

When she reaches the front, Jonah steps down to greet her with a quick kiss on the cheek. He whispers something, and she playfully slaps his arm before breaking away to take her place at the front of the line across from him and the groomsmen.

Once they part ways, a soft wave of smiles ripples through the crowd as the twin ring bearers step in—Marla’s little brothers, Scotty and Dave. They look adorable in their matching black suits and navy blue ties, each holding a tiny blue pillow. The bride’s ring rests on Scotty’s, the groom’s on Dave’s, both secured with golden ribbons.

Though they’re seven years old and perfectly capable of walking down the aisle on their own, Harvey follows behind them, just in case.

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