Page 28 of The Wedding Menu

He’s silent for a moment before remarking, “Damn. That’s not easy to forgive.”

“I didn’t forgive her,” I say. “We found a good balance, because after twenty years of her absence, I realized I don’t need her now.But for the longest time I did need her, and she wasn’t there. You know whowasthere, though?”

He groans, and his next words make me suppress a grin. “Damn Martha.”

“Mm-hmm. I was not fun to be around for a long, long time, and Martha always stuck by my side. She never let me feel bad for myself, always pushed me out of my comfort zone. Her family welcomed me into their home and…” I pause when I feel my emotions crawl up my throat. “Really, I have her to thank for the happiest memories of the first fifteen years of my life.”

“Wow. That’smorethan a kidney.”

“It is.”

“It still doesn’t justify her snatching your wedding dress.”

“It doesn’t, but—”

“If I may, Amelie,” he interrupts, “I suggest you adopt the same merciless approach with Martha as you have with my texts. Set a boundary.”

I fidget with the hem of my shirt and let out a strangled laugh. “Sorry I ignored you. I’m engaged: I can’t exactly text single strangers who—”

“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute, Amelie. You’re quick to make assumptions, aren’t you?”

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

He snorts. “Hell no. But you’re assuming I’m interested in you, and that’s not the case.”

Yeah. Except that at Barb’s wedding two weeks ago, he was, and no man ever continuously texts a woman for friendship.

“I might have approached you with the intention of hooking up, but that’s it. I’m not here to steal you from your fiancé and make you my wife or something.” He snickers. “Some of us are actually happy in our single lives.”

“All right. Then why do you keep texting me?”

“I don’t know. You seem fun. And I keep coming up with reasons why weddings are the worst.” He clears his voice. “But I’ll stop if you want me to. I won’t even get offended or anything. I get it.”

Ugh. He’s cute. I hate that he’s cute, because despite what Frank is doing or will do, I have no intention of carrying on as if I’m single. But he seems sincere. And his texts are something I’ve started to look forward to. “Iamcurious to see how many of those unpopular opinions you can think of.”

“Endless. What’s with the rice throwing? And the public proposals—God, they’re tacky. Worst one yet? Apparently, engaged women aren’t allowed to make new friends. It’s madness.”

Fine. He’s cute and charming, I guess. There’s something endearing about him—something I can’t really explain but speaks to me. “I guess us engaged women can make friends. As long as those friends realize thatifthey have an ulterior motive, they’re wasting their time and ours.”

“I’m sure those friends are happily single and well-intentioned.”

Tucking some hair behind my ear, I smile. “Cool. Then… don’t keep me waiting too long, Ian.”

My phone is still in my hands, Ian’s voice not yet out of my mind after my accidental phone call, when another text notification comes through. Thinking it could be Frank, I check the screen, and my face involuntarily splits into a wide smile.

Ian:

You know what I need?

He really didn’t let me wait too long. Or at all. I burrow deeper into the cushions, my knees falling to one side, and type.

Amelie:

I’m afraid to ask.

Ian:

Photo proof.