Page 91 of The Wedding Menu

I press my eyes with my thumb and forefinger. I should drop this, I know. After all, if he’s convinced this is what he wants, there isn’t much I can do. And it’s not like I’m in any way an expert on functional relationships. The most stable and satisfying relationship in my life is with Ian, a man I’ve met twice.

“Fine,” I say with a dramatic sweep of my hand. “If there’s no one in this world you’d rather spend your time with, then go on a date with Ella. Have the chat, the fun, the sex.” Barb enters from the backdoor, waving at me with a grin, and I quickly wave back. “I have to go.”

“Of course there is.”

“Huh?”

“Of course there is someone in this world I’d rather spend my time with. The person I spendmostof my time with.”

I stand still, silent. He’s talking about me, isn’t he? It must be: he’s the person I spend most of my time talking to.

“You might know her. She’s beautiful, stupidly lonely, and relentless in her goal to keep Ella away from me.”

“Because Ella’s a wart-nosed witch,” I spit out.

“Is that so?” He chuckles. “Are you sure there’s no other reason?”

My body temperature rises until my cheeks are hot enough to fry an egg on them. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” he says dryly. “Then I’ll go on that date and watch out for spells and magic wands.”

“Great,” I bark.

“Awesome.”

“Well, my shift is about to start, so…” I look toward the kitchen. “Have fun with Ella, and don’t turn your back on her at family gatherings. She might go for your dad next.”

“Text me when you’re home safe.”

“I think I won’t.”

“Amelie…”

“Bye.” I hang up and shove my phone into my pocket. After walking past the kitchen and locking myself in the bathroom, I stare at my reflection, trying to get my facial muscles to loosen up and look less devastated.

I know I’m being unreasonable. I’m doing the exact opposite of what I should do. My role as Ian’s friend is to warn him and advise him, not to control his life. If he’s decided a date with Ella is what he wants, I should support him.

But I can’t. I can hardly think of him kissing another woman, let alone one who hurt him. One who doesn’t deserve him.

After taking out my phone, I type a text.Sorry.Then I delete it.I’m with you no matter what.I delete that too. I’ll just text him when I’m home to let him know everything’s fine.

Once I leave the bathroom and begin my shift, I burn the first plate of scallops as Ian’s words keep replaying in my head. He said he’d rather go on a date with me than with Ella, and it should worry me. It should constrict my chest with anxiety that he’s picturing more than a friendship with me. As should the fact that I’m incredibly jealous of his date.

But this is the first time we’ve fought—the first time we’ve hung up on such a sour note—and when Barb stops me from almost burning the scallops a second time, I leave the food in her hands and shout, “I need five,” as I exit the kitchen. Standing in the same spot by the window, I tap on his contact and start the call.

“Hey,” he says, his voice even sadder than before. My one goal was to cheer him up, dammit.

“Come on a date with me.”

“What?”

I clear my throat, ignoring the pounding of my heart. “There won’t be any sex, of course. And it’d be a friendly date, not a romantic one. I guess we could call it hanging out.”

“Let’s call it a date.”

“A friendly date,” I insist.

With a chuckle, he asks, “Do you mean it?”