I get it. We were in elementary school. Just a couple of kids on the playground. But after Nash Hendrix called me Enemy instead of Emily, his stupid nickname ruined my life.

Now our best friends are getting married, and they expect me to stand across the aisle from Nash the Ruiner without killing him?

Whatever. I can survive being maid of honor. It’s only for one weekend.

Until it’s not.

When I get roped into wedding planning at the same places Nash is fundraising, I’m ready to blow up our temporary truce.

All I wanted was to start over. New job. New permanently-single status.

But the more time we spend together, the more I feel like … not murdering him.

Is it possible Nash and I don’t hate each other?

No way. He’s still my enemy.

My big, dumb enemy.

My big, dumb, gorgeous, sweet-talking, dog-loving —

Emi, you’re doomed.