Page 102 of The Wedding Menu

“What?”

I meet his gaze, my lips pressed tightly so that they won’t tremble. “You were waiting for me to tell you so that you could—”

“Amelie,” he says, stopping me. Resting a hand on my shoulder, he shakes his head. “Being your friend has been the best part of the last four months. Actually, scratch that: it’s been the highlight of my life.” He looks thoughtful, and I just know he’s not done. “But don’t ask me to tell you there isn’t more. You know there is, and not only from my side.”

“Why didn’t you say anything before?”

He shrugs. “I was waiting for you to feel comfortable enough to tell me. We’ve always discussed pretty personal stuff, and you never said a word. I figured you didn’t want to.”

He’s right. I didn’t. And now I’m so relieved, I wish I’d told him before. “I guess… you’ve been my escape for the past four months,” I say with a crooked smile. “I didn’t really want to think about that when I was with you. And, well, I knew you’d have things to say.”

“I’ve got a whole catalog of things to say—a list so long, it would have to come out in three volumes.”

“Please, spare me,” I say, raising my hand. “I know how pathetic this all is without your input.”

“It’s not pathetic, Amelie.”

“Oh, but it is.” I run a hand through my hair. “I let Martha walk all over me; I let my dad manipulate me; I let Frank blackmail me into this with the promise of a marriage.”

“That’s what he said?” His eyebrows knit together. “That he’d marry you only if you accepted an open relationship?”

Not in so many words, but close enough.

When I nod, he peers through the glass doors into the building, as if he’s looking for Frank. Judging by his expression, it’s not to congratulate him on his idea. “So he offered you what you wanted, what’s most important to you—dangled it under your nose—then attached some absurd condition to it.” He sighs loudly. “That’s not manipulative at all.”

“As I said, pathetic.”

He turns to me, biting his lower lip as his blue-flecked eyes soften. “Why? Why did you agree to it?”

With a frown, I study his expression. It’s a legitimate question. Why did I do it? Why did I take everyone’s side but my own? “Because I loved my relationship with Frank and my friendship with Martha,” I whisper. I think of all the years together, of how every single one of my memories involves the two of them. All my important moments, all the good and bad. “Because it all crashed at the same time, and I can’t afford to lose everything.”

“See, that doesn’t sound pathetic to me. That sounds scary.”

Well, it is. Or was. And as I look at him, I realize it’s not that scary anymore, because even if everything else were to fall apart, I truly believe Ian would be there for me. He wouldn’t let me down. “You’re the only person in my life who’s there unconditionally,” I whisper. I take a step closer. “And I mean that literally. You haven’t attached any conditions to our friendship. To us.”

Smiling stiffly, he turns away, and a horrible weight settles on my stomach.

“Or not.”

“No, Amelie, I—” He turns back to me and runs both hands over his face, the only noise coming from the buzzing overhead neon light. “The way I feel about you, I… I couldn’t help it if I wanted to.”

My muscles stiffen, the rest of his thought weighing on me even before he expresses it. “Just get to the ‘but,’ Ian.”

He hesitates, his eyes scanning my face for a few moments. “If that’s all you want me to be, Amelie, that’s what I’ll be. Your friend who has feelings for you.”

My heartbeat accelerates as if it’s knocking from inside my chest, asking me to open the door, asking me to let it free. I can’tsay I’m surprised Ian has feelings for me, but it’s the first time he’s said it openly.

“But I won’t do it for him.” He points at the door. “Because a friend would tell you this isn’t how it’s supposed to be. A friend would tell you there’s nothing wrong with open relationships unless they’re one-sided.”

“Ian…”

He shakes his head. “My condition is that you do the scary thing and break it off, Amelie. This sham of an engagement. My condition is that you stop choosing someone who isn’t choosing you back.”

Tears run down my cheeks, and I look downward in an attempt to hide it. When his arms wrap tightly around me, I bury my face in his sweater, grabbing it in my fists behind his back. I cry, and I couldn’t stop if I wanted to, but I don’t want to either. It feels so good to let go. To let part of it wash away with my tears in the comfort Ian provides.

“You do this one thing. This huge, terrifying, necessary thing, and there will never be more conditions from me, Amelie. Never again. I’ll be in your life unconditionally.”

I swallow against his chest, my throat sticking so much that I can hardly breathe. Because it’s undeniable: I’m considering it. I’m considering his words with more than my heart. I’m thinking them through, picturing possibilities, alternatives, consequences. My rational brain is being won over by my emotions, and I’m letting it.