Page 120 of No One Was Supposed to Die at This Wedding

“I can still kill him off,” I say anyway, because I feel desperate again, and maybe repeating myself will work like it did last time.

“You tried that, remember?”

I’d plotted out a whole book where he died. But that wasn’t what I ended up writing.

In the book I turned in after Italy, Connor lives.67

“I know, I just...I’ll do whatever it takes. I haven’t been writing anyway, so that will be easy.”

“Don’t use writer’s block against me.”

“I’m not.”

He leans his head against my forehead. “Eleanor, you love writing those books. And I’m not going to take them away from you.”

“Then what do we do?”

“I don’t know.”

I breathe in his scent—a mix of soap and the light spice of his aftershave. “What about therapy? That might help.”

“I thought you hated therapy.”

“I only went once. I didn’t give it a real chance. Plus, I love you more than I hate therapy.”

He tips his head back and laughs, but it’s not the usual sound I love. “That’s a lot.”

“It is a lot. It’s everything. You’re everything.” I look away from him to the window. There are clouds on the horizon now, not just metaphorical ones. “You chose to get back with me. Please don’t break my heart.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You’re doing it, though.”

“I’m sorry.”

My mind cycles and I face him again. “Can we try something?”

“What’s that?”

“Can we pretend everything is normal for the rest of the weekend?”

“Despite the murderer on the loose?”

“The murderer fled the coop.”

“Did he?”

“I think so. It stands to reason that it’s Tyler. Who else would want to kill Emma or Fred or disrupt their wedding?”

“I don’t know.”

“Sometimes the simple solutions are correct.”

“Almost never, though.”

“That’s in books, not in real life.” I bring his hands to my waist. “I know it’s hard to see us together. I get it. But I don’t feel like that about him anymore. I haven’t in a long time. And I never felt with him what I feel with you.”

“Oh, yeah?”

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