Page 105 of The Wedding Menu

Maybe if we’d met a few years back, things would have been different. But eight weeks away from my wedding, I can’t doanything. Surely I can’t do what he has suggested. I can’t leave Frank, throw the last fifteen years to the wind. Not when I’m so close to the finish line, not after the four months of pure hell I’ve been through. And not when I’d do that for nothing at all. Soon it’ll all be over, and things between Frank and me will slowly go back to the closest version of normalcy we’ll be able to achieve.

Any alternative is madness.

So I shake my head in a silent yet deadly rejection.

Ian’s shoulders slump, and the hurt in his face mirrors mine. He looks surprised, as if he held on to the belief I’d choose him until the very last moment, when I utterly shattered his heart. “Amelie, please, I—”

“No, Ian, no,” I say, the words coming out in a choked-up voice. “You’ve made your decision and I’ve made mine.”

For a few seconds he looks down with a slow nod, and when he lifts his head and his eyes look into mine once more, they’re colder than ice. “Goodbye, beautiful.”

Panty Proof

— TODAY—

In an irredeemably short black dress and coordinated knee-high socks, I walk down the stairs, headed toward the crowded bar. The chain of my necklace is long enough to be hidden by the dress, and my hand moves to it as it always does when I’m nervous. Knowing it’s there makes me feel better.

I don’t even know if Ian will be there, except hehasto be. That’s where we’re most likely to meet. We haven’t talked since breakfast, but I’ve seen the looks he’s thrown at me. I’m here to prove what he said this morning is wrong, and he wants me to. I know he does. So… he’ll be there, right?

I approach the hotel hall, but before I can turn to the bar, I hear Ella’s voice. She’s talking to the concierge with the usual scowl. Puffing out a breath, I turn my back on her just as she spots me. “Preston.”

Oh, yay. Exactly what I need tonight.

I turn to Ella, who, arms crossed, struts to me. “I figured you should know something.”

Shoulders stiffening, I try to convince myself that whatever she’ll say now is a barefaced lie. That she’s just trying to drive awedge between Ian and me and that he’s proved time and time again that he’s deserving of my trust.

I’m scared senseless anyway as she finally opens her mouth in a snarl. “Isawyou, Preston.”

I pause, release a breath, and try to find the strength within me not to walk away. “Yousawme? Saw me doing what? Where?”

“I saw you and Roberts.”

My eyes dart left to right. Ian and I weren’t exactly trying to sneak around, so—oh. She doesn’t meanIanRoberts.

She nods. “Yeah. At the Marguerite about four months ago? I saw you.” Her smile turns smug. “On a date with Ian’sfather.”

My heart hammers as I try to maintain a neutral expression. I know there’s no point in denying it, as she’d never believe me, but that wasnota date. Fuck me, I can’t believe she was there. “So let me guess. Either I stay away from him or you’ll tell him?”

With a scoff, she grabs her bag. “No, Amelie. I don’t need to do anything at all, because Ian will never give you another chance. He might have sex with you, might look like he forgives you. But he won’t.” Stepping closer, she straightens her red dress. “But I wantyouto know that I know everything. And if Ian asks, I will speak.”

She walks away, the noises in the room slowly fading away as my ears ring. Trying to shake the feeling off, I turn around and stare into the crowded bar.

Ian is there, standing with his mouth open wide and a hand to his chest, his gaze roaming up and down my body. His shoulders slowly fall, and he mouths something I can’t hear from here, but it looks like “Fuck.”

This conversation with Ella was not what I needed tonight, but I won’t let it stop me. I’m on a mission.

Holding my chin up, I walk to him, stopping once I’m by hisside, next to the counter. “Hello,” I say casually as I raise a hand to call the bartender.

“I’m pretty sure you mean ‘God damn.’?”

I chuckle, tossing a glance at him over my shoulder. His gaze is definitely south of my face, his chin tilted down and his mouth dumbly open. “Ian?”

“Hmm?”

“I think you dropped your eyes on my ass.”

He waves me off, his throat working hard. “Keep them. They never want to stare at anything else anyway.”