Page 146 of The Wedding Menu

“Really, Ames? You’re just going to let him go without even fighting?”

“Really.” I settle in the chair and tilt my head back, enjoying the warmth of the sun on my face. “I don’t want to fight for Frank. Nor do I want to marry him.”

“Ames, this is ridiculous. Look at your life for a moment. You can’t tell me you’re better off now, and it doesn’t look like Ian stuck around—”

“Martha, I said no. And you have to respect it. I don’t need to explain myself, and I don’t have to give you my reasons.” Grinning wider than I ever have, I continue: “No meansno.”

She grumbles something that sounds like “Unbelievable.” And itisunbelievable. It’s unbelievable that I’ve waited so long to say no.No, Martha, you can’t have everything you want with zero regard for anyone else. No, Frank, I won’t marry you when you obviously don’t love me. No, Dad, I will not be a pawn in your sick games.

So easy. How in the world it took me so long to get it is be-yond me.

“Fine. If you’re gonna be unreasonable, do what you want. But you’ll end up alone.”

“Is that so?” I ask.

“Yes. Since that Ian guy, I swear you’re unbearable,” she spits out. “And it’s not enough that he ruined your relationship. Now you’re going to let him come between our friendship too.”

My fist clenches on my thigh. I couldn’t care less about heropinions, but she should watch her poisonous mouth before she says a word about Ian. “He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Martha. And I let you, Frank, and mostly myself ruin it. But I can at least take solace in the fact that the past year wasn’t for nothing, because I won’t let you or anyone else walk over me. If that means ruining our friendship”—I shrug—“well, so be it.”

“Fine, Ames. Maybe when there’s nobody left, you’ll change your mind.”

Happier than ever with my decision, I look at the colorful sails in the distance. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Bye.”

Once she hangs up, I glance at the glass construction one last time, step onto the creaking planks of the deck, and take hold of the slick metal handrail. I breathe in the salt, the sea, the summer.

It’s time to walk away.

Though no one said I couldn’t do it on my own terms.

I throw my bag on the table, deciding I’ll be back for it later. But first, there’s something I’ve been wanting to do since the first time I saw this place. This is my last chance before the temperature drops—and, more importantly, it’s my last chance before I give up this place.

Gripping the handrail, I lift one leg over it, then the other, and step on the narrow edge. My heart tumbles as I look down at the water. It can’t be more than fifty feet away, and the beach is a short swim from here. Still, jumping into the unknown is scary. Doing it alone even more so.

But it’s what I need.

I take a deep breath, the toes of my shoes suspended over the void, then close my eyes. As I let go of the rail, I leap forward and let myself fall.

Cease the Activity

— TODAY—

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, I just… I know you won’t be able to look past this, and you’re so close to your dad. I just…”

Still no movement except for his chest heaving, so at least I know he’s breathing. But his eyes are still slits focused on the carpet. His fists are still clenched on his thighs, and there’s not a hint of the good, patient man I know left in him. He’s furious. Is he mad at me too? Is he planning a murder? I have no idea.

“He blocked your number on my phone,” he hisses after a while. Before I can ask how he figured it out, he forges on. “He drove with me to your wedding, and the whole time he kept trying to dissuade me. Said it was a mistake, that I would end up getting hurt. When I called and you didn’t answer, I left my phone in the car and came in.”

My mouth hangs open, a fresh wave of rage taking over my brain. Of course it was him. I should have realized it before. He’s gone to such extremes to protect his son from me that blocking my number is really the tamest of his interferences.

“How did he know?”

“What?” I ask.

“That you were you. I told him about us, but I never mentioned your name. He’s been known to overshare during interviews, and with you being engaged I was very careful. So how did he figure it out?”

I shake my head, thinking of the day of my wedding. “After I missed your call, I called you back immediately. He must have seen my contact and—” Even before I finish my sentence, I remember the screenshot Ian sent me the night we met. “Beautiful” with a red heart. He didn’t use my name to save my contact. So maybe… maybe it was during that night at the Marguerite. Hedidflip out at some point, but why?

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