Page 22 of No One Was Supposed to Die at This Wedding

“He has a consultant credit.” I look him in the eyes. They’re dark brown and usually I get lost in them, but right now they have a serious cast I need to make disappear. “I definitely told you that, Oli.”

He gives me a crooked smile. “I must’ve blocked it out.”

“Idotalk a lot. You can’t listen to everything I say.”

He touches my hand, and I know we’re going to be okay. “Probably not.”

I have to ask, though. “Are we okay?”

“Yes,” he says, then kisses my hand for emphasis.

“Good.” I kiss him. Not with passion but with assurance.This is it, I want to tell him. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. Forever.

It’s a lot to convey with a kiss.

I do my best.

I think he gets it.

Eventually, we break apart and lean our foreheads against each other. “It’s only two days,” I say.

“What could go wrong?”

We should both know better than to say something like that out loud by now.

Connor would keep his distance if he knew what was good for him. But instead, he joins us in the line for the eight a.m. ferry that fifty others are waiting to board, waving at us like we’re old friends who haven’t seen one another in a while.

Situational awareness has never been Connor’s strong suit.26

“I hear I missed quite the show last night,” Connor says with a laugh as he pulls up to us.

“Good morning, Connor,” I say.

I’ve found that sometimes an air of formality is the only thing that gets to him.

“What? Oh, yes, good morning, Eleanor. Harper. You’re both looking well.”

“And me? Am I not looking well?” Oliver says, putting his hands on his hips and jutting out his left leg like he’s posing in a fashion show.

“I, uh...”

Harper snorts. “This isawkward.”

Connor assesses the three of us. The last time we were all together was at a funeral, but that didn’tquitecount as a reunion. We didn’t speak, just nodded across the grave at one another.

“Things are bound to get awkward,” I say, “when the only two people who haven’t slept together are you and Oliver.”

Oops.

Am I ever going to learn to shut my stupid mouth?

No, right? The answer is no.

Fine. FINE.

Also, it’s not even accurate. Harper hasn’t slept with Oliver. Or me, obviously.

I pointed that out earlier with my joke about the three of usnotgoing to bed together.

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