Page 53 of The Wedding Menu

“Come on! Be serious.”

“—whose queen and king—”

“Oh my—goodbye.” I hang up, my lips twisting with a smile I can’t undo when I receive his text.

Ian:

Well, that was rude.

Now you’ll never know my story.

I see the messages, then tap my fingers on the table as I wait.

Fine. The queen and king had a handsome, gorgeous, hilarious, good-spirited, merciful, impossibly smart prince.

With an eye roll, I press on the call button.

“And one day, the prince met a princess. She was… all right, I guess. Blond or something.”

“Oh, for the love of—”

“Yes, love! They were in love. Or so the handsome prince thought.”

“How old were you?” I ask, settling my feet on the chair and hugging my knees. Something tells this will be alongstory.

“Me? I’m telling you a story about a handsome prince.”

“Fine. How old was the dorky prince?”

“He was in high school.” He waits for a hum of confirmation, then continues. “The prince and the princess dated for years, throughout their royal studies and until graduation, when the prince decided to do something really,reallystupid.”

“Let me guess: he proposed.”

“Hey. This ismystory.” He clears his throat again. “The prince proposed.”

“My, oh, my, I’m shocked!”

“And the princess wasn’t as condescending as you, so she said yes. Blissfully in love, the two of them planned their wedding. The whole court was invited, and the king and queen were thrilled. Flowers in the kingdom sprouted higher, their colors were fuller, honey was sweeter, and—”

My shoulders slump as he rambles on. “I’m hanging up.”

“—until one day,” he says, his voice turning grave, “the princess was kidnapped and taken to a tall, dark tower from which she could never escape.”

My thoughts run wild as I try to understand exactly what he means.

“Hmm… Wait, that wasn’t dramatic enough. The princess was taken by an ogre who brought her to his kingdom of sad sex and gray flowers, where honey tastes like gasoline.”

“I’m still—not sure—”

“I caught her fucking my best friend.”

I hiss through my teeth. “Shit. How long before the wedding?”

“Two months. He was going to be my best man.”

My shoulders fall, the cheerful and good-spirited Ian I know now mixing with a younger, heartbroken version of him. “God, Ian… I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. Best wedding gift she could have given me. I saw her true colors; his too. Cut them both out of my life, and it was for the best.”