Page 14 of The Wedding Menu

One hour and fifteen minutes.

I was thinking about you, too, through most of it.

Amelie:

Mrs. Wilkow sold you out, you doofus.

I KNOW you asked her to sit in your spot.

Ian:

Yes, I helped a fragile old lady who was a step away from crumpling to the floor.

I’m selfless like that.

He’smanipulativelike that, he means. I can’t believe he made me think I was flattering myself when I told him I was engaged.

Amelie:

How about telling her I’m the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen?

Ian:

I technically said that before seeing Martha, but I stand by my initial impression. No comparison.

“Jerk,” I say as I rock back on the heels of my feet, then walk to the bedroom. Frank’s dark hair peeks out from the duvet, and, leaning closer, I tuck the blanket under his chin and kiss the side of his head. I’m still angry at him, but I hate it when we fight. Just as I leave the bedroom, my phone vibrates again.

Ian:

Fine. I admit I wasn’t transparent about my intentions, but you asked for my number.

Amelie:

Because of the cake.

Ian:

Cake as in… you’ll give me a piece of that cake?

Amelie:

Cake as in cake.

I was ONLY going to send you the name of the bakery.

Of course, at the time, I wasn’t aware you were a deceitful liar.

Ian:

Oh, yeah, of course. Makes sense. Totally.

Except…

I wait for another text, but it doesn’t come. No matter, because whatever he’s about to suggest is way off. Sure, we got along, and you’d have to be blind not to notice how handsome he is. But I’m basically engaged, aren’t I? I’m not about to throw the last fifteen years of my life out the window for a twenty-minute conversation with a stranger.

I wasjusttrying to be nice.

Amelie:

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