Page 89 of The Wedding Menu

Ian’s never needed me, not until today. I, on the other hand, seem to depend on him for my mental stability. At every turn, through thick and thin, he’s been my shoulder to cry on for the past few months. It’s my turn to shine, and I’ll be damned if at the end of this conversation he isn’t smiling.

“How was your day?” he asks in a dull voice.

“My day was long. Not as long as yours, though, from the sound of it.”

He grunts, then there’s the noise of keys and a door opening. He must have called on his way home. “Work was shit. People-screaming-in-my-ears-all-day shit.”

“I’ve got the perfect remedy for that, and it involves a pizza, a bubble bath, and a vibrator.” When he chuckles, I whisper, “At the same time.”

“Damn. I think I left my good vibrator at work.”

Staring out of the window of La Brasserie, I ask, “What can I do to help?”

“Tell me where you are, what you’re doing, what you’re wearing. Everything.”

“What I’m wearing?” I mock. “Getting alittlecreepy.”

“I thought you were supposed to cheer me up.”

“I’m home, about to enter the tub, and taking off my sexy nurse uniform.”

He hisses. “Damn, Amelie, that might cheer me up too much.”

I laugh loudly enough to get Jeremy’s attention as he enters the kitchen, then I quickly turn around and say, “I’m at work, about to start my shift. And I’m wearing what I always wear to work: leggings and a T-shirt. This one says,I’m not as think as you drunk I am.”

“Shoes?”

“Converse.”

“Hair?”

“Pulled back with pins, actually.”

He releases a deep, heavy sigh. “Beautiful Amelie.”

I roll my eyes. My outfit is the most unimpressive set of clothes I could have described, but the way he says that—beautiful Amelie—is so honest. So heartfelt.

“I—I did something stupid.”

My muscles tense up as I rest my back against the window, my mind filling with disastrous possibilities. “Okay. What’s that?”

“I let my ex talk me into going on a date.”

“Your ex?” I ask, my heartbeat quickening.

“Yeah,” he says with a joyless chuckle. “She asked and… I don’t know, I guess I felt lonely, and when she kissed me—”

“Youkissed?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Oh. My body is licked by heat as a roaring fire bursts in my stomach. He kissed someone. Ian kissed a woman. Of course he did: we’re not together. In fact, I’m pretty sure he sleeps around plenty. But now I know for sure his lips touched someone else’s lips, and my insides turn into a knot.

“Which ex? What—”

“My only ex.”

My eyes widen, my back tensing as I think of his fairy tale. The princess who’s actually a witch and the ogre who took her away. He can’t mean he’s considering a date with Ella, can he? It can’t be her he kissed. Not after she cheated on him two months before their wedding—and with his best friend! “You—no. Why are you even in contact, Ian?”

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