Let's Kill This Love

A deep voice came from the back. "I'd like to say something"

Chaya glanced up and frowned as the man made his way toward the front. What kind of idiot came to a memorial service dressed in khaki? With that deep tan and full beard, he must be one of Slade's archeologist friends. Ah, that explained it.

Chanze leaned closer and whispered, "I need to"

She whipped around and fixed him with a killing glare that made him back off with his hands raised. What the hell was the matter my brother? She would have understood it if he had tried to disrupt the wedding, but not the memorial service. He had liked Slade.

With Chanze now suitably cowed, Chaya turned back to face the front and gazed at the man at the podium. He did look familiar. She knew she had seen him before, but couldn't quite place him. She was sure his hair used to be brown, not sun-streaked blond like that . . . and something else wasn't quite right. The full beard? It nagged at her. She knew she ought to know him, but who was he?

The man didn't bother introducing himself. Instead, he nodded at the elaborate casket and said in a rich voice full of humor, "I just have one thing to say. If Slade Martinez's body was never recovered, who the hell is in that box? Elvis?"

She knew that voice-intimately.

Ohmigod. Chaya shot to her feet as her mouth dropped open and shocked exclamations sounded throughout the room. Those bright blue eyes, that grin, that voice . . .

Slade!

Slade grinned at her and spread his arms wide. "Hi, honey. I'm ho-ome"

Joy filled her. Her husband was alive!

Horror filled her. Her husband was waiting in the... Is that a Swoon-Cone or Swiss? Huh! The Rocky Fountain honeymoon suite, it is.

Ohmigod, what do I do? Reaching out blindly, she found Chanze there to support her.

"I tried to tell you . . ." he muttered.

The combination of emotions was too much. As a mish-mash of feelings roiled through her, Chaya did the only sensible thing.

She fainted thinking, she's married and he's alive.