Page 52 of The Wedding Menu

God, the way he says my name, though.

“And any type of self-awareness has gone out the window, my dad’s dick is still swinging left and right like he’s trying to hypnotize us with it.” He laughs so hard and for so long, he struggles to speak, until eventually: “Oh, and… funny thing? My mom hated the ring.Hatedit. My dad has no fucking taste: it’s this thick golden band with yellow topaz stones around a white central diamond, like her favorite flower.Gah.Of course, after we all risked our lives for it, she couldn’t exactly exchange it.” There’s a little pause. “So there you have it. Whatever Frank did, I’m sure he didn’t flash you and a ten-year-old, nor did he set a hotel on fire, causing hundreds of people to evacuate their romantic holiday.”

The message ends, and, still chuckling, I press on the microphone icon. “Oh my God, Ian. Please tell me you made it all up.”

As soon as I get his answer back, I press “play.” “Hell no. I almost died, Amelie. In fact, I remind my dad every time we go out for lunch. We’re close, which I guess is bound to happen when you know how to recognize your father’s ball sack out of a lineup. So close that ifyouwere to propose tome, you’d have to ask him for my hand in marriage.”

I smile down at the phone. Though I didn’t need cheering up, I feel better. And I’m happy to know Ian has someone in his life who has his back. Pressing on the microphone icon again, I twist a lock of hair with my fingers. “You’ll have to send me a picture of that ring. You know, to verify the truthfulness of your story.”

Immediately, I receive an image. I open it, and the démodé ring isn’t even the first thing I notice. I think it’s his hand, which the ring is resting on. His tattoos wrapping around his wrist. Or his disgusted expression as he looks at it, his chin pushed down. He’s purposefully being ridiculous, and yet he’s painfully handsome, with his soft brown hair falling down his forehead and eyes so blue, it’s like being underwater.

Eventually, though, I look at the ring. The tear-shaped topaz stones surround a small circular white diamond, just like a yellow daisy.

The fact that Ian has it, though,couldmean that his mom doesn’t want that ring anymore.

Amelie:

Still no story with you and marriage?

Ian:

Just opinionated.

No story.

“How was your week?” Ian asks as he lets out a long sigh. He said he got home five minutes ago, which means he must have had a long day, because it’s eight.

I hold my phone against my ear and chew my lip. “My week was… exhausting.”

“Did you get that promotion?”

“Not yet.”

“Why not?”

I let myself fall back against the chair, then glance at the poster-sized paper on the table, peppered with black and red pins. My guests and Frank’s guests. I have to say that out of all the things I’ve planned for my wedding so far, figuring out how to place his homophobic uncle as far as possible from my lesbian cousin—and everyone else, really—is the most challenging by far.

“Dad making you jump through hoops, Amelie?”

I drag my cousin’s pin all the way to the right, then rethink it, because she’s known to become a little too flirty when she’s had a few drinks, and Frank’s sister is having a bi-curious moment. His uncle would not likethat. “I have a vague memory of us discussing taboo topics.”

“Fine, fine. But it has been two weeks already, hasn’t it?”

Since I told him, yes. Since my dad announced he was retiring and would be choosing the next head chef? Embarrassingly longer than that. Though I’m still not dying to get the job, it’s all types of insulting and infuriating. As such, it’s a thought I’d rather avoid. “Taboo topic.”

“Come on,” he says with a loud groan. “I’ll trade you. Just this once.”

I stab the bridal table with my pin and throw my head back. “Fine. But I don’t want to know about your job.”

“No? Are you sure? It’s really fun. Plus, I’m blanking and I could use a good comeback—”

“No,” I say pointedly, refusing to let him distract me. “You know what I want. The true reason behind your hatred for marriage.”

“Fine.” He clears his throat. “It all started a long time ago, in a faraway land.”

“Ian…” I scold.

“There once was a kingdom—”

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