Page 147 of The Wedding Menu

My eyes widen as it comes back to me. “He saw the ring. Your—the ring he got for your mom.” I pull it out of my shirt and show it to him. “And midway through our dinner, after seeing it, he kicked me out.”

He exhales deeply, as if the information only fuels his anger. We’ve been sitting here a while, so I’m pretty sure William and my father are already giving their lecture, and missing it might be the one perk of this whole situation. But then again, if Ian breaks up with me now, everything else will pretty much disappear in comparison.

He might, right? Sure, he said I’m the most important person in his life, and with everything that he’s given and shown me over the last year, I believe him. But William is his dad. I guess there is a chance that, despite his actions, Ian will choose him.

Or maybe he won’t. Maybe he’ll find a way to forgive his dad and be with me, and I won’t need to pretend I like William for the rest of my life.

Maybe. But not knowing is killing me.

“Do you want to—”

He leaps to his feet and, without a word, strides out of theroom in a fury. If I’m to guess, looking for his dad, and if I’m to be even more specific with my guess, to strangle him.

“Ian!” I barge out of the room and along the corridor after him. “Ian, wait. They’re giving the seminar. The whole world is there. TV. Newspapers. Don’t make a scene right now or you’ll sink your mom’s restaurant. Please.”

He ignores me, his bloodshot eyes focused on the goal, and rushes down the stairs. My begging does nothing to slow him down, and once we arrive at the hotel hall, I step in front of him and reach for both his arms.

“Ian, please wait.”

“Amelie, let me go.”

“I know you’re angry, but—”

“Angry?” His eyes meet mine, and I knowangrydoesn’t adequately describe his emotional state. Maybe…murderous. “I’m way past angry, trust me. My father ruined your life. He killed your reputation. Heknewyou weren’t married—that you were wearing my ring, even—and didn’t say a word to me. He let me suffer for months, thinking you were married to that asshole.”

“I know, but your restaurant! Your mom’s restaurant!”

“Do you think my mom would have wanted this? That she would have approved of it? If she’d known all of this would happen, she would have burned the Marguerite down herself.” He walks past me and toward the largest conference room. “Now watchmeburn it to the ground.”

Panic strangles me as he opens the doors to the conference room, and a few interested eyes meet mine because of the commotion. William is on the small stage, talking into a microphone about market trends, and my dad is scowling behind him.

With the glances I steal at the audience, I notice three of the well-known critics who reviewed my restaurant, journalists fromYummagazine with their cameras rolling, head chefs and owners of some of the biggest restaurants in the country. There must be hundreds of people in here, and among them most of those who count in the industry.

“Ian,” I whisper-scream. “Ian, wait.”

But he doesn’t, instead hopping onto the stage without a pause until he’s facing William. His father looks confused for about a second; then his son’s clenched fist crashes into his nose and he falls back with a loud thump.

The collective gasp is as deafening as the one people had for me when I announced my wedding wasn’t going to happen—and, if possible, just as painful.

Ian reaches down, grabbing his father by the collar of his suit. I rush onto the stage, and my father steps in front of me to keep me away from the commotion. “Ian,” I beg as I try to get past his imposing figure.

William’s face is smeared with blood, his hands clinging to his son’s shirt as Ian pulls him up. There’s a confused look in his eyes, which I’m sure is only the result of the punch he took, because hemustknow what this is about.

“What did you do to her?” Some people have stormed the stage in order to separate the two of them, but Ian has lost all control and is close to growling as he tries to free himself from the arms that are holding him back. “You ruined her life. For what, huh? What was your goal? Revenge?”

William’s eyes slowly refocus on his son as someone hands him a tissue and someone else calls for water. Everyone in the room is talking, moving, speculating. All of it in front of cameras and journalists. This is a damned disaster. A clusterfuck of epic proportions.

“She…” William moves toward his son as he dabs his bloody nose with a grimace. “She hurt you, Ian, and—”

“Shehurtme?” Ian lunges at him again, but the people standing between them keep him back. “You don’t know her. Don’t know shit about what she went through.”

“It doesn’t matter,” William insists.

“No, you’re right. It doesn’t. Whatever she’s done to me will never justify what you did to her.”

William shakes his head, copious amounts of blood spilling from his nose to his trembling lips. “I wanted to make sure you’d never have to see her again, and I knew if she stayed in our shared business, you eventually would.”

“All I’ve wanted for months was to see her again!” Ian shouts.

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