Page 51 of The Wedding Menu

Ian:

Congratulations, beautiful.

Are you happy?

Yeah, I guess. No, I’m definitely happy about the ring. It’s gorgeous, and Frank clearly put thought into it. I guess I didn’t imagine my engagement ring would come in a box. Or with a text.

Amelie:

Yes, very happy.

Ian:

Good.

Did he do the champagne thing?

Amelie:

What champagne thing?

Ian:

The cringe proposal thing where he plops the ring in the champagne glass?

Amelie:

Yes, but he used a Bloody Mary.

Ian:

Much better. You can use the celery stick to fish it out.

Snorting out another laugh, I switch to my chat with Frank, then stare at the keys on my phone, not sure which one to tap first. I should say thank you, that the ring is beautiful and I love him, but every word I think of sounds wrong. Not enough, or just too much.

I get a voice message from Ian and, curious to hear what else he has to say about proposals and celery, I tap on it.

“Not that you don’t sound absolutely over the moon,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm and filling the silence of my apartment, “but I figured I’d cheer you up anyway in case the engagement was cringier than I’m picturing. Because, dear Amelie, I havethecringiest engagement story for you. I hope you’re ready.”

“All right,” I say as the recording goes on.

“More specifically, this is the story of my parents’ engagement. They married later in life, so I was an unfortunate witness to all of it.”

I’m already smiling as I settle back against the chair.

“Well, I’m ten. My dad drags my mom and me to this fancy hotel for the weekend. Rain, fireplace, chocolates. The whole thing. The fucker makes me light up about fifty tea candles and spread them all around the room while my mom is at the spa.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “See,that’sa proposal.”

“He sends me away, but I steal my dad’s camera and hide somewhere in the room, because I figure my parents will love the video of their proposal, right? So he comes in wearing the hotel’s white fluffy robe, and when my mom enters the room, he’s there, holding the ring.” He snickers. “But because he’s always pranking her, she thinks it’s bullshit. She grabs the ring from the box and throws it across the room. And the ring, defying all laws of physics, hits one of the fifty tea candles a ten-year-old memighthave placed just a little too close to the edge of the table.”

My eyes are wide as I listen, anticipating what happens next.

“And I’m still making a video of my mom crying, my dad screaming.” He sighs. “Eventually, he gets on one knee, begins his speech. But the robe is a hotel robe—one size fits all. Well, turns out it doesnotfit all. So now my dad’s kneeling in front of my mom, giving her this very emotional speech, and his dick and balls are hanging out for us to enjoy.”

My shoulders shake from so much laughter, it’s hard to breathe.

“And that’s when the whole room turns into a fiery inferno. The carpeted floors catch on fire, the flames spread to the curtains, the hotel’s alarm starts blasting.” He groans. “Oh, Amelie. You have no idea.”