Page 82 of No One Was Supposed to Die at This Wedding

“I think we all know who’s playing Emma,” Harper says.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t do a fake wedding ceremony with someone who looks that much like Connor. Not in front of Oliver.”

“He doesn’t lookthatmuch like him, does he?”

“Yeah, he does. I mean, look at them.”

Our heads swivel to where Ken and Connor are standing at the bar, ordering drinks. They’re both wearing jackets and dress pants, and their hair is cut the same.

They’d struck up a bit of a friendship on set, which I chalked up to Connor’s ego. Because, let’s be honest, who wants to be close friends with someone who looks enough like you that they can be confused for you?

A narcissist, that’s who.

But we all see it: From behind, they’re nearly identical. Same broad shoulders, sandy hair, and an agility that might be athletic but might also be from years of training as a cat burglar.

“It’s for Emma,” Harper says. “Your best friend.”

“Why doyoucare if the dress rehearsal happens or not?”

Harper nods slightly toward Shawna. “She needs your help.”

“You’d be doing me a huge solid, Eleanor,” Shawna says with a note of desperation in her voice.

“I mean...”

“Oliver will be fine with it,” Harper says.

“There’s no way he’s going to be fine with it.”

“Have a little faith.”

Ishouldhave faith. But I lost that a long time ago.

I search out Oliver in the crowd. He’s standing off to the side, glaring at Connor. Or at least that’s what it looks like to me. The girl whodefinitelydoesn’t want to be pretending to marry a man who looks like Connor.

But that’s what I end up doing. The collective guilt trip from my sister and Emma and even Shawna finds me, twenty minutes later, walking down the aisle with a bouquet of fake flowers in my hands while Ken stands in for Fred. The cast and crew watch us from either side of the aisle, as I do that old half-step advance to “Here Comes the Bride.”

You’re allowed to laugh at this image.

I want to cry.

But it’s fine. FINE.

Oliver won’t look me in the eye, though.

Bad enough that the cover for this whole weekend was a fake wedding between Connor and Cecilia. To see it enacted out in front of him is a lot to ask.

I hope not too much.

I get to the head of the aisle, and it’s then that I realize who’s “marrying” us.

Inspector Tucci.

“Shawna, what the hell?”

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