Page 17 of The Wedding Menu

Setting my fork down, I inhale and exhale much quicker than necessary until I’m lightheaded. I think of my conversation with Ian at the wedding, of how I spent most of it discussing Frank and our pre-engagement. All the while, he was playing single dude at a party.

It’s hardly the same thing.

“You know why I asked Ian for his number?” I ask, pressing my lips together tightly.

He shakes his head. “You said something about cake?”

“The cake was a thank-you for listening to me whine about Martha and being kind about it.” I raise my index finger. “Oh, and for informing me of the fact that Le Love Bijoux is not a jewelry store but the place where you buy your cock rings.”

His jaw snaps open, but he says nothing for a moment as his eyes bulge out. “A—a jewelry store?”

“Yeah,” I confirm. “Instead of shopping for inventive masturbation techniques, I figured you might be thinking of proposing.” I bite the inside of my cheek. “Turns out, you were too busy enjoying being single.”

“Ames,” he groans. His hand finds mine on the table, and when I pull it back, he follows, not releasing his grip. “Come on, stop it. This is exactly what I’m talking about!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I stand, grab my plate, and shove it in the sink. “I was asked twenty-seven times why I wasn’t engaged last night.” With a squeak, I turn to Frank. “Twenty-eight, actually, because Ian asked too. Did you tell yourlady friend that I exist? Because you’re the first thing I told Ian about. Even before my name.”

“Ames, you want me to propose, but we’ve never experienced anything else.” He comes to stand in front of me. “I know I want to end up with you. Fuck, I love you. But I also want to know what else is out there, or I’ll wonder my whole life.” His lips purse into a straight line. “Now that I’ll need to relocate to Mayfield for a while, maybe you’d be willing to let me… experience something else?”

My fingers press against my forehead, now slick with sweat. This isn’t happening, is it? He can’t be serious. It’s all just a nightmare I’m about to wake up from.

“Ames?” His hand is warm on my shoulder. “Look, I know that I’m asking for a lot here, okay? I understand that. But it’d be good for you too. This guy, Ian, did you like him?”

“I—no!”

“Would you have slept with him if I wasn’t in the picture?”

I scoff, panic swirling in my chest. My first instinct is to answerno. That I wouldn’t have. But the truth is, I didn’t even consider it, because I can’t imagine a life without Frank. It’s not something I want. What I want is to be engaged, to marry my boyfriend. “This is a stupid conversation,” I blurt out. “If you want to break up, then just do it already.”

“Of course not!” He cradles both sides of my face. “Of course I don’t want to break up with you,” he insists. “I’m just saying, since I’m meant to spend six months away…”

“No.” I push his arms away and leave the kitchen, tears pooling in my eyes as I smother a sob against the meaty part of my hand.

“Ames, please. Don’t walk away.” Frank follows me into the bedroom, and once I realize I have no reason to be there, I sprintaround the bed and head back out to the living room. “Okay, listen. Listen to me.”

I halt when he steps in front of me and holds both hands up. He inhales deeply, then throws me a cautious look. “If wedoget engaged… can you plan the wedding in six months?”

I sniffle, rubbing the back of my hand under my nose. I never thought it’d get to this point, but I really don’t want to talk about our hypothetical wedding right now. When he keeps staring at me, I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

He attempts a light smile. “So, until the wedding, we could do our own thing. I’ll have to move out anyway, right? We could use this time apart to… experience a little of the single life we’ve missed out on when we were younger. Then we get married.”

My stomach drops, the same free-falling sensation as a roller-coaster ride.

“Plan the wedding of your dreams, and in six months I’ll be there, in a tux, waiting for you at the altar. I’ll be yours forever and you’ll be mine. No looking back. No regrets.”

Squirming away from his hold, I ask, “And what happens in the meantime?”

“We’re still together. But I’ll be in Mayfield. New colleagues, big city. If I go out, and a woman flirts with me—”

“You’ll sleep with her,” I say, gingerly cutting him off.

“No, it’s not about that.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “It’s about knowing that if I want to, I can. About experiencing being single. But I won’t start sleeping with a new girl every day, Ames.”

“But it might happen,” I insist.

With a sigh, he nods. “But we’ll both know that no matter what goes on in the next six months, we’ll be back here.” He pushes his glasses up, his eyes softening in that way they always do whenthere’s something he wants. “It’ll make us even stronger, because we’ll still choose each other over everyone and everything else.”

I study the white-and-black pattern of the rug. Never in a thousand lifetimes would I have imagined that I, Amelie Preston, the woman who’s been obsessed with weddings since she attended her first at age nine, would be proposed to in the way it just happened. Even less would I have expected she’d consider it. In fact, I’m not even sure Frank realized he’s done just that: proposed.