Page 131 of Never Not Friends

Juliet is literally standing in front of me, asking me to marry her tomorrow.

But these relationship doubts started long before I knew anything about Emma.

I just wasn’t being honest with myself.

Rejection splashes across her face. “Vinny, it shouldn’t take you this long to answer that question.”

I scoop her into a hug. “Of course I love you. I just don’t know if our love is enough.”

She pushes off my chest, anger filtering in. “No. I’m sorry, Vinny, but I’m not going to let you do this.”

“Do what?”

“Ruin everything because you’re scared of commitment. If you truly love me, then it is enough. We will be enough together.”

“What if it isn’t?”

“Have you been happy with me all these years?”

“Yes, but⁠—”

“Then stop this!” Her head shakes with frustration. “Stop trying to talk yourself out of happiness. Out of being with me. I have years and years of proof that we’re good together. That you adore me. That we’re happy. Don’t let doubts you never even thought to bring up before tonight overturn everything else between us.”

“I’m just so confused.” I shrug with defeat. “I don’t know what to do.”

Slowly, her hand lifts, cupping my cheek. “Stop looking for all the reasons why this won’t work. Let go of your fear. I love you, Vinny. We can be happy together.”

My eyes fill with tears as I think back to Emma’s words.

Juliet loves you. She’ll take good care of your heart.

I pull Juliet into my arms, hugging her against my chest.

I hold her tighter.

I want her to be right.

More than anything, I want Juliet to be right.

EMMA

“Does anyone have scissors?” Carly asks. She’s twisting, trying to see the back of her black bridesmaid’s dress.

“No.” Camila fluffs her hair in the mirror.

“Tweezers,” she tries again.

I look up from where I’m steaming the bottom of Juliet’s wedding dress. “I can go find you some.”

“I just”—she twists farther—“I have a string, and I don’t dare yank on it, or my entire dress might unravel.”

Blair grabs the string and slices it with a knife. “There.”

“Where did you get a knife?” Camila frowns at her.

“I always carry one.” She smirks as she plants her foot on the side of the bed and hikes up her skirt, revealing a small knife sheath attached to her inner thigh like a garter.

Carly gapes at her. “Who brings a knife to a wedding?”