Page 13 of The Wedding Menu

“Then… if you really mean it, there is something you could do for the wedding.”

My shoulders dip. “Of course I mean it.”

With an excited clap, she smiles. “You could… cook.”

The blood in my veins freezes as her fingers wrap around my forearm. She can’t be serious, can she? I haven’t truly opened up to her in months, but she knows everything that’s happened in my life. She must know, once again, she’s asking too much of me.

“The caterer blew me off, Ames. The wedding is in ten days, and I’ve got no food.” Her grip tightens. “I don’t know what else to do.”

“I’m sorry, Martha.” I pull my arm back, freeing it from her hold. “I won’t cook, but I’m happy to suggest plenty of chefs who could—”

“But I don’t want other chefs. I don’t know if I’ll like their food!” she complains.

“Well…” My shoulders rise in a shrug as if to say,That’syourproblem.

“Seriously, Ames? You’re my best friend,” she insists. “Make me happy on my special day,pleeeeease.”

“I can’t. Anything else.”

“But—”

“No,” I say firmly. “I’m sorry.”

She crosses her arms and tilts her chin up in a pout. “God, you’re so selfish.”

Oh, I am. I’m selfish, confrontational, stubborn. And I fucking love it. After spending my life failing to meet my father’s expectations, adjusting to suit Frank’s needs, and worrying about Martha’s whims, I now put myself first and won’t apologize for it.

The best part? Ian is the reason for it. Though he’s technically also the reason I have no job, boyfriend, best friend, money, or plans for the near future.

Her frown becomes a bitter smile, and I realize she’s not done pestering; she’s simply done for today. Before she can add anything else, I stand. “But call if you need anything else.”

Barb and Martha follow, collecting their belongings in a hurry, until, with a sour expression, Martha waves. “Yeah, okay. See ya.”

We walk, Martha going one direction, while Barb and I walk the opposite way. A perfect metaphor for what happened to our friendship over the past year. But it’s a drama I’m not eager to face, so I keep trudging without turning back.

I walk away from someone who’s been my best friend for most of my life and is now nothing more than an acquaintance. Away from the personIwas until my life got upended, my certainties shattered, my principles challenged.

I have only one goal for the immediate future. One idea in my mind.

Tomorrow I’m going to Mayfield.

And I’m going to find Ian.

The Wrong Type of Ring

— ONE YEAR AGO—

Amelie:

You tricked me. You TRICKED me, you deceitful man.

I gawk at the screen of my phone. I can’t believe Ian lied and I asked him for his number. His number! I asked a handsome man I met at a wedding for his number after he tried to hit on me.

Setting the daisy on the entryway table, I climb down from my heels and unzip my dress. “Frank?” I call. No answer. I haven’t seen him since this morning, but it’s late, so he must be sleeping.

When my phone buzzes, I glance at the screen.

Ian:

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