Page 101 of The Wedding Menu

“You know, someday you’ll have to tell me how in the world you tracked down my dress, though I never said where it was, and convinced the shop to open at nine at night just so you could give me life advice.”

“I’ll tell you when you tell me the name of that damn bakery. That coffee cake—”

“Just shut up.”

He chuckles, the laughter quickly dwindling as we get out of the car and walk toward my building.

“You’ll have to let me reimburse you for it too,” I add. We go through the gate and take the short pathway to the porch. I know for a fact how expensive that dress is, and it’s got too many zeros to be a gift.

“It’s my wedding gift to you.”

I stop and give him a reprimanding look. “No, it isnot.”

“Early Christmas gift, then.” He smirks, hooking his thumb into the pocket of his jeans. “I’m stupidly gorgeous, disarmingly funny, and disgustingly rich.” Moving past me, he adds, “The whole package.”

I sigh, following him to the door. “You forgot deceivingly humble.”

“That too.”

“I’m not comfortable with you giving me such an expensive gift, Ian.”

“All right. You can pay me back.” He halts at the door. “Drinks are on you on the nextfriendlydate.”

Thinking of the way he looked at me back at the bridal shop—of the way he looks at me in most moments—I stare down at the flagstone slabs of the patio. When I meet his gaze, there’s a patient smile on his face, as if he doesn’t mind my silence at all. As if he’d be okay with just turning around, walking to his car, and driving away, though we both know that’s notallhe wants, is it?

“Are we… friends, Ian?”

His lips part, his eyes roaming over my face for a few seconds before focusing on mine. “Yes. By my definition of it, we’re friends.”

“Let me guess. You’ve got an unpopular opinion about friendship.”

He chuckles, taking a slow step forward. “I don’t know if it’s unpopular, but here it comes. A friend is someone who doesn’t judge you. Who maybe can’t make things better but will try and, if all else fails, will just sit in silence with you. Someone you can count on; someone who is happy when you are. A friend is someone who makes you laugh a little harder and smile a whole lot more.” With another step, he stands before me. “You are that to me. Am I that to you?”

“Yes,” I answer with no hesitation. “You are.”

“Then we’re friends.”

I swallow; the word “friends” so inadequately describes me and Ian that I can’t help but pout.

“You know what I think, Amelie?” he asks before taking a deepbreath. “I think friendship is at the base of the best love stories.” He smiles as he looks into the distance. “Maybe not all love stories start with friendship, but eventually the ones that last are the relationships in which your partner becomes your best friend too.”

“I love that.”

“Is Frank your best friend?”

Frank is probably the person who knows me best—or, rather, knew me best. Although objectively ridiculous, it feels as if Ian took that spot in only four months. But even if Frank were on the podium… no. I don’t think I’d ever call him my best friend. After our engagement, I certainly wouldn’t.

“He—he asked me to have an open relationship until the wedding,” I confess.

I’m not sure why I’m coming clean now, but as soon as I do, I feel better. I always thought it would feel humiliating, but it’s not. It’s liberating. Cathartic. Now someone else knows, and I don’t have to carry all this weight by myself.

Ian leans against the door, not nearly as surprised as I’d expected him to be. “Hmm.”

“Ian?” I ask. Once he stares at me with a tight-lipped smile, my shoulders go weak. “You already knew.”

“Well… I wasn’t sure of it at first, but ‘a paradigm shift’?” He smiles sadly. “You weren’t as mysterious as you thought. Then, at the Quinns’ wedding, you said he wanted to have some new experiences. That’s when I knew.”

Lip quivering, I look away. I might be overreacting, might be making no sense at all, but it feels like a betrayal. Ian knew all along. “So that’s why you stuck around.”

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