Page 11 of No One Was Supposed to Die at This Wedding

“Does she have a name?”

“She can’t seem to remember mine.”

“So, that’s Simone. Hmmm. You probably intimidate her.”

I touch his arm, pushing him away playfully. “Please.”

“You can be very intimidating.”

“She’s hated me since high school.”

“Did you steal her boyfriend or something?”

I look down at my shoes. Was that it? Was all this animosity because of some dude whose name I don’t even remember?

Okay, okay, I do remember who he was.

Whatever. Bygones.

“I haven’t done anything to her this year. Or even this decade.”

“Why don’t you try to talk to her about it?”

“Honestly? She scares me.”

He tips his head back and laughs, catching Simone’s attention. She turns toward us and scowls.

An actual scowl! Like a cartoon villain.

“Did you see that?”

“Maybe that’s just her face.”

“Uh-uh.”

Oliver taps my arm. “Bygones, remember.”

“How did you know I’d said that in my head?”

His eyes dance. “I almost always know what you’re thinking.”

“That’s scary.”

“Or kismet. Who’s Harper talking to?”

My eyes swivel through the crowd. Harper’s standing next to a man about her height who’s wearing a seersucker suit and a woman in a variation of Simone’s pantsuit.

“The woman is Shawna, Simone’s assistant. And he’s David Liu.”

“Ah! The Writer.”

“TheScreenwriter.”

Oliver taps me gently on the nose. “We hate him, too?”

“He massacred my book.”

“Massacred?”

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