Page 118 of The Wedding Menu

Satisfied, he nods and turns around, then faces me again before he can disappear into the corridor. “Really, stop talking to him, okay?”

Crossing my arms around my stomach, I nod. “I already told him we can’t talk anymore.”

“See? That’s proof of what I’m saying.” He inhales deeply. “Don’t give it a second thought. It was just a stupid mistake.”

Right. A stupid mistake.

More than One Night

— TODAY—

Ian and I tumble into the room, an entangled mess of kisses and loud pants, but as soon as his fingers move to the short hem of my dress, then squeeze the highest point of my thighs, I flinch, my muscles turning rigid under his touch.

“Okay. Maybe we should stop right here,” he says softly as his hands run up my sides. “And we could just keep all our clothes on and sit down—lie down, even—and kiss a little.” His gaze bounces between my eyes and my lips, as if he’s horny and afraid I’ll bolt again.

“I’m just…” I rub my temple, the tension causing my head to hurt. I don’t understand what’s happening to me. Why every time I come close to having sex with the most perfect man to ever land in front of me, I end up freezing. “I think I’m panicking.”

“That’s a pretty safe bet. Care to elaborate on why, exactly?”

“Because—”

He nods, encouraging me to speak. “Because…”

“I’m afraid that it’ll… suck.”

His smile falls, a single chuckle shaking his chest. “Well, gee, thanks, Amelie.”

“That’s not what I mean, Ian. It has nothing to do with you.” I take his hand in mine. “After Frank, I just can’t go through that again. I spent fifteen years with a man I had boring, average sex with, and I can’t take a single more second being a complacent body for someone else to use.”

His jaw tightens, his shoulders tensing before he entangles his fingers with mine. “I’m not Frank, Amelie. If we ever do have sex, it’ll be great. I wouldn’t have it any other way. And besides, it’s us. Sex between us was great even when we weren’t in the same room.”

“But what if it’s not about him—Frank?” I begin pacing back and forth in front of the bed, my nerves getting the best of me, and I wonder if I even stand a chance. Maybe I’m just too ruined.

“Then who?”

I look into his eyes, wondering if I should say it, only to come to the quick conclusion that if there’s anyone in the world I’d be comfortable discussing this with, it’s Ian. “What if it’s me?”

His shoulders sag, and he shakes his head as a sad expression takes over his features. “Amelie… no, of course not. It’s not you.”

“But what if it is? What if I just can’t enjoy sex? What if I’m frigid and dysfunctional and basic and just… broken?”

He slowly walks toward me. Without saying a word, he wraps his arms around me, the weight of them pressing me against his chest. It immediately soothes me, and, closing my eyes, I lay my head against him and listen to his heartbeat through his sweater.

“Amelie,” he whispers, “even if that were true, if you liked only basic sex or didn’t like sex at all, it wouldn’t mean you’re broken. You’re perfect. But this has never been about you.” He presses a kiss next to my ear, then, in a soft voice, continues: “You want to know what the problem is, beautiful? The problem is that you’ve been used, ignored, and hurt. The problem is that you spent somuch time feeling you aren’t enough, that you aren’t worth loving and cherishing, that the people in your life actually made you believe it’s the truth.”

I close my eyes, his sweater in my fists as I hold him tighter.

“But it’s not the truth.” He kisses the same spot beside my ear over and over again. “And if it takes me the rest of my life to show you that, that’s what I’ll do. We’ll have our one night together in twenty years, if that’s how long it takes you to understand.” He clears his voice. “I mean, I’m notencouragingus to wait two decades, but, you know…”

God, this man adores me. Reveres me. He’s freaking smitten, one-night stand or not. Though I can’t take another man ignoring my needs in the bedroom, being afraid Ian will be one of them is downright ridiculous.

Smiling against the soft cashmere, I nod. “You might not have to wait that long,” I whisper as I look up, meeting his gaze.

He tucks some hair behind my ear. “Well, sex is off the table tonight. Let’s take things slowly, and whenever you…”

I kiss the corner of his lips, my hands running along his chest and around his neck.

“…feel like we should…”