“I don’t mind helping out, you know.”

Phil whipped his arm out and pointed at her. “See?”

“Pick out your own damn suit, Phil!” I snarled before stomping out.

The stress of it was turning me into an emotional wreck. With overworking at the rehab clinic, staying up late to write for Mike, planning this fucking wedding, driving into NOLA at least once a week to try to find information on the music scene post-Katrina, I was losing my shit.

All I want is for Phil to pick out his fucking suit! Why can’t he just say what he likes? Is he so clueless? I need to know what his groomsmen will be wearing, so I can pick out the flowers and find bridesmaid dresses that Lili won’t pitch a hissy fit over…

“Hey, Kenna Baby…” He found me hiding in our bathroom, fully dressed, bawling my eyes out in the tub. “Talk to me.”

Climbing into the tub, too, he pulled me into his arms and let me wail and snot all over his chest.

“I don’t know!” I cried. “It just feels like all of this is too fucking much, and I just want it to be over with. I’m so tired all the time, and I’m sick of being at the clinic anymore. I have no fucking clue as to what I’m doing, and it scares the shit out of me that I’ll end up screwing it up, and you’ll blame me for having the wrong whatever it is, and I—”

“Kenna, the only thing that matters is that we’re gettin’ married, okay? That our friends and family will be there to share it with us. Everythin’ else don’t matter. If it’s all messed up, it’ll still be the most amazin’ day of our lives.”

“Will you pick out your own suit then?”

He sighed. “Can Sheri at least help me? She’s gotten me all my fuckin’ clothes for the last seven years. I don’t think it’d be a great idea to not let her help on the one day I actually gotta look good.”

Asshole. He looks good all the time, no matter what.

Sniffling, I nodded. “Yeah, you got a point.”

“Have you found a dress?”

Douche bag! “No!” I wailed, proceeding to bawl all over again.

Phil sighed and gently rocked me. “Don’t worry about it, okay? You’re almost finished at the clinic, and then you’ll join us on tour. When we get back, we’ll devote all our time to plannin’ it.”

The following week boded no better. On top of the stress and worrying, I was looking at a whole week and a half sans Phil, and I kept getting the feeling that I was forgetting something. It would creep up on me at weird moments, too, like when I was popping in an IV or applying acupuncture to help curb nausea.

What the fuck am I missing? I’ve forgotten something. I know it! I’m all sorts of out of whack.

But time never slowed down long enough to let me figure it out.

There was good news though. Phil’s dad and sister were back in their homes in the Garden District, and Phil had surprised me, Connor, Da, and Gloria by buying our parents their very own Garden District home, not more than a block from his dad’s. Fully restored and ready to move in, he’d also sprung for any and every piece of furniture they could possibly want.

“Seriously? No restrictions? We can get whatever we want?” asked Gloria in stunned disbelief.

Handing over the black Amex card Phil had made me take a year and a half before, I told her, “Go nuts. It cuts off at one million.”

“Shut the fuck up!” she gasped.

“Gloria!” barked Da. “Dinna be takin’ advantage o’ our children an’ their wealthy significant ot’ers!”

I winked. “Go for it, Mom.”

We’d be moving back to La Place after the Canadian tour. It wasn’t a long one—just three weeks of clubs with a few arena shows in the major cities. The guys would be flying out on the fifteenth to Montreal, the day after Valentine’s, before meeting up with Mack and the souped-up tour bus along with the roadies who had shipped out with the equipment and their own bus already, giving them a seven-day head start. Alys and I would be meeting up with the guys in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan.

In addition to ignoring our impending wedding, Phil and I spent the week before the tour packing up most of our crap in Lafayette and shipping it back to La Place.

Since Lili and Lewis had moved out, it had just been Alys, X, Phil and me living in this half. We missed our evil little Pygmy, but we spoke with her nearly every day. She was hoping that when they came back for the wedding, Lewis would want to stay in New Orleans again.

The relationship between Phil and X was much more pronounced as they constantly hung out. They were goofballs, wrestling around the place, playing video games, and having two-man jam sessions. I could see that they were best friends. Before, Flipper and Jason were always in the picture, completing the picture really. But Phil and X were the ones who had founded NOLA’s Junk, just two best friends in a garage with a beat-up acoustic guitar.

What the hell am I forgetting?

On the year anniversary of the clinic blowing up, Gavin and I made plans to meet up in Lafayette to share a quiet dinner. We wanted it to be just the two of us since we were all that was left of that time. Phil understood but kept sniffing me in my black silk wrap dress.

“Why do you keep sniffing me?” I asked, batting his hands away.

“You smell…more.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It’s like…I don’t know. You smell like more Kenna. It’s drivin’ me fuckin’ insane. It’s like Kenna concentrated or somethin’…”

Weird? “Okay…” I said, heading into the foyer to grab my purse.

“Well, I can’t fuckin’ help it if I like your stink, woman! It’s all over everythin’, too, makin’ me chub all fuckin’ day long. I want to fuck you ten times more and hard, too.”

“Hmm…that sounds like a plan for later, yeah?” I asked, grabbing his crotch and squeezing, a little shocked at how erect he was.

My cunt throbbed, and my nipples ached in response to his blatant arousal. Thinking of it, he smelled pretty strongly himself and in the most delicious way possible. Suddenly, the throbbing between my legs turned into a near-painful ache.

Phil’s hooded eyes went black, his nostrils flared, and he shoved me up against the wall, my arms and legs wrapping around him. As I ground against him as hard as he was grinding into me, we moaned into each other’s mouths, ready to devour—

Ding-dong!

“Fuck!” he snarled.

We were dry-humping in the foyer.

“To be continued…” I panted.

Untwining my legs from his waist, I was a bit wobbly on my feet. Phil slipped his hand under the hem of my dress, his jaw dropping as he felt just how wet I was.

“Kenna,” he growled, pushing aside my underwear and thrusting a burning finger into me. “Oh, fuck me. You’re fuckin’ soakin’…”

“Please,” I got out the strangled whisper. “I can’t take more, Phil. When I get home—”

Ding-dong!

He removed his finger and sucked it clean, his eyes boring into mine. “When you get home then.”

As I scurried off to the bathroom, Phil answered the door for Gavin. I quickly mopped myself up and put on a fresh pair of panties—hearty cotton ones with a panty liner for backup. Ridiculous that I was this fucking horny.

Granted, with all the extra work, we’d slowed down with the sex, too tired and just hadn’t had enough time. Maybe we just needed sex more than normal people, and when we didn’t get it, we would go apeshit.

Just stop thinking about it!

It had been a while since I had seen my dear friend. Gavin was as bald and squat as ever, but he looked healthy and happy to see me, so that felt good.

“You two have a good time,” said Phil, kissing me lightly and handing me off to Gavin.

My libido dried up as we descended the steps. Away from the object of my desire, I was able to concentrate on other things rather than fucking my fiancé’s brains out.