Page 30 of Anyone But You

“Knox McKinney Ramsey.”

“That’s not my middle name.”

“Dearly beloved is used for weddings, not funerals,” Victoria reminded me.

“Thank you. Where would I be without you?”

“In the Underworld where you belong.”

“I’m the one who saved you from drowning in the wreck.”

“I didn’t ask for that. You could’ve let me go on to Glory peacefully.”

“Yeah, right,” I huffed.

“I do have a question. How did you manage to survive the crash unscathed?”

I snorted. “That is not the case. My back is screaming louder than you when you discovered someone drank the last of your coffee creamer.”

Victoria sucked in a breath. “Listen, I was already having a shitty morning, and I was looking forward to my morning coffee. You needed to send out a memorandum about respecting co-workers’ property. Not only was my name written on the bottle in permanent marker, but the asshole returned the empty bottle to the fridge. Who does that?”

“It was me. I did it,” I confessed, avoiding her heated gaze that routinely made my blood simmer and my dick swell.

“Don’t get killed on this island. It’s just me and you. I’ll send you off just like Josh.”

No, you won’t. You’ll miss me too much.

“Noted. Let’s get started. There isn’t much I can say about Co-pilot Josh. He was a pilot, and he occasionally provided comedic relief. Unfortunately, his life was cut short before we could witness his full potential. I’m certain he’ll be missed by his loved ones. Amen.” I turned to Victoria, who was clutching a hibiscus bouquet in her hands. “It’s your turn.”

“Josh Jayden McClure—”

“Is that his full name?”

Victoria shrugged, her shoulders meeting her ears. “No, but it’s better than Co-pilot Josh.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Overruled. Josh Jayden McClure, I am saddened by your unexpected yet avoidable departure from this world.”

What a lovely and subtle way of saying I told you so.

“I hope you didn’t suffer and that you find peace in the next life. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Amen.”

“Amen.”

A few minutes later, Josh was floating away with the tide.

“What are you doing?”

“Pouring one out for the homie,” Victoria said, pouring some champagne into the water before taking a swig. I followed suit and poured a shot of bourbon into the ocean.

“Rest easy, homie,” I said.

Victoria snorted and sprayed champagne from her mouth. She laughed and wiped her mouth dry with the back of her hand. “Don’t ever say that shit again.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t. It didn’t feel right when I said it.”

“Good,” she responded when the giggles ceased.