Page 16 of The Wedding Menu

“How was the wedding?”

“Great,” I say in a forcefully chirpy voice as I shake the thought off. “Barbara and Ryan were the portrait of happiness, andeveryone missed you. Especially me.” As I walk back to the frying eggs, my phone dings again, and I pick it up with a tsk.

Ian:

You’re really not going to tell me the name?

But the raspberry jam. And the lemon ganache. And the macadamia nuts!

What is he talking about? Raspberry jam and lemon ganache?Nuts? Oh my God, this guy didn’t even eat the damn cake. Theidiottotally played me.

Once I set the phone down, Frank says, “I’m sorry I didn’t come. And I’m sorry about the fight we had. I should have told you about the move before accepting the position.”

Or maybe asked?

I turn the stove off and walk over to where he’s sitting. I bend forward so I can wrap my arms around his neck and stare into his eyes behind the black-framed glasses he started wearing a few years back. “Thank you,” I whisper on his lips, and, pressing a kiss on his cheek, I continue, “You know I’ll always support you. I just want to be part of the decision.”

Our mouths meet for a moment, and after quickly brushing my tongue with his, he leans back so his face is out of reach. “So you’re okay with it? With me going?”

I walk to the counter, then set bacon and eggs on two different plates and bring them to the table. I can’t say I’m thrilled about it, but I understand better than anyone that ambition comes with its healthy dose of sacrifice. “I am, yes. Just six months, right?” When he nods, I smile. “I’ll miss you, though.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

I sit down and watch him dig his fork into the scrambled eggs. I guess it’s time to bring up my own uncomfortable topic. “So, I met this guy at the wedding yesterday.”

“A guy?”

“Ian. I think his dad is friends with Barbara’s.”

“And?”

“And we talked for a while. He was really nice. We were supposed to get cake, but I got called for pictures.” I wave the thought off. “So I asked him for his number. I figured I could find out the name of the bakery and send it to him.”

He nods like he’s waiting for me to get to the point.

“Well, turns out he was—” I break off, fidgeting with the fork in my hand. “I don’t know. Interested.”

“Interested inyou?”

I take a sip of coffee, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah.”

“Oh my God, Ames.” His shoulders drop. “I’m so relieved to hear you say that.”

Relieved?

Before I can ask, he keeps going. “I went out with the guys from work last night, and this woman gave me her number.” He sputters out a chuckle. “I was feeling so guilty.”

My teeth grind as I force out a smile. I don’t care about a woman giving him her number: he’s a handsome guy, it’s bound to happen. But why was he feeling guilty? “Well, if you did nothing wrong, you shouldn’t feel guilty.”

He hesitates, and under the weight of my stare, his teeth pinch his bottom lip. “Well, you asked some guy for his number. Is that not wrong?”

“What did you do, Frank?”

Avoiding my gaze, he digs into his eggs again. “Nothing, Ames. I just… I thought it was kind of… nice.”

“Nice how?” I ask as my chest tightens. I guess there’s nothing wrong with enjoying being desired. It’s human, even. And he knows I’m not typically a jealous person. So there’s definitely more to this story.

“Just… I liked the chase, I guess? The thrill?” He licks his lips, throwing me sheepish glances that do nothing to hide his discomfort. “I enjoyed flirting a little with someone new. I had a crush on you by the time I was ten; you know you’re the only woman I’ve ever dated, kissed. Anything.”

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