Page 49 of The Wedding Menu

“I…” I think it through for a moment. Ian hasn’t approached her at all, so he must be okay working together, and if I complain, it’ll look bad after he said he wants us to be “friends.” “No, I guess it’s fine. We’ll manage.”

“Okay, then. Let me know if there’s anything else.”

With a nod, I turn my attention back to the paper. Maybe it won’t be that bad. According to the schedule, we’ll teach three two-hour classes every day. Six hours a day, the two of us bouncing ideas off each other, smiling, reconnecting. Maybe becomingmorethan friends.

“Amelie?”

Ian’s warm, deep voice brings me back to reality. Tucking some hair behind my ear, I turn to him, my dreamy smile shifting into a polite grin when I notice Isabella is by his side. “Hi,” I say, scanning both of them and hating how good they look next to each other.

“Seems like us four will stick together,” he says with a formal, tight-lipped smile. It’s nothing like his real one.

Barb nervously chuckles as she appears at my side. “It’s going to be fun.” She’s met by a stony silence, yet she continues: “So fun.”

Everybody looks tense and uncomfortable, stealing glances at one another without knowing what to add. Though Isabella’s definitely glaring at me, I figure I should introduce myself. “Nice to meet you,” I say, extending my hand toward her. “Amelie Preston.”

“I know.” She glances down at my hand like it’s a piece of fish gone bad. “ThefamousAmelie Preston.”

My eyes shoot to Ian, asking a silent question. Why did hotter Natalie wake up and choose violence today? “Not a fan of my father’s?” I ask.

“Your father and his little restaurant don’t bother me in the least.” She tilts her head, her eyes studying me as if she’s deciding I couldn’t possibly have spent more than twenty dollars on my whole outfit. I probably didn’t. “But Iama fan of your personal work. Few people can make so many mistakes in so little time.”

“Quit it,” Ian mutters in a tone I’ve never heard him use before. Aggressive, abrupt. It’s probably the same one I’d use if a staffmember from my father’s kitchen acted in such an unprofessional way toward a colleague.

My hand is still outstretched and waiting for hers, and with a stiff smile I pull it back. I expected the article to come up—of course I did—but I didn’t think it would be on my first day. During my first interaction with a stranger.

I’m pondering what to say when Isabella’s arm locks with Ian’s as she leans against him.

Notlike a colleague.

Maybe she’s not talking about the article at all, and the mistakes she’s referring to have nothing to do with my career. Maybe they’re about something much more personal. Someone much closer.

Maybe Isabella isn’t only a colleague.

Maybe she’s Ian’s girlfriend, and she’s telling me to back off.

As I look from one to the other, my smile withers. “Well, anyway, I—” My chest tightens as the realization fully hits me. “We’ll only work together for the next seven days. For only six hours a day, so… forty-two hours.” Everything around me begins to blur, my panic at this point probably obvious in my expression. “And you and Barb will be there too. And the audience. We’ll all be there together. The four of us and…”

Barb gawks at me in a desperate attempt to shut me up.

“…and them,” I choke out.

Nobody utters a word, awkwardness hovering between us like an uninvited guest. This empress of beauty is Ian’s girlfriend, and oh my, I look like a rat next to her.

“We should use today to go over our notes, make sure we can come up with cohesive lectures before we start,” Ian offers, placing a hand into the front pocket of his jeans.

I nod, staring at the deep-blue flecks in his irises. It makeseven more sense now that he only wants to be friends; after all, his new girlfriend looks Louis Vuitton, and I’m Forever 21. “Yeah, okay,” I say, in a tone of abject defeat. “Sounds good.”

“Great. We can meet this afternoon.” Ian turns to Isabella, but her mocking, ice-blue glare is still on me.

“Fine.” She holds her hand out, and almost automatically I grab it and shake. This time, though, I don’t smile. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. “I look forward to seeing what you’lldelightus with.” She looks down at me from her impossibly high heels and grins, though there’s hardly any honesty in her expression. Instead, her smile is malignant, arrogant. In a sickeningly mellifluous voice, she adds, “Ella Clarke.”

My jaw snaps open, my eyes darting to Ian as every single thought disappears from my mind.

Isabella Clarke… isElla?

Ella…Clarke?

Family History

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