Page 4 of The Wedding Favor

I set the almost empty plate on a shelf and rubbed my hands on my thighs. He was easy to talk to, and I guess I wanted to tell someone. “My ex decided to surprise me. I had no idea he was coming.”

“I think I saw you talking to him. With the glasses and the polo shirt? I thought he was your accountant.”

I glared at him. “I like his glasses and polo shirts. And he’s a very good accountant.”

He grinned. “Are you not on good terms?”

“It’s… complicated.” I stared down at my lap. “He brought his fiancée.”

“The plot thickens.”

“She’s nice. Just got her first teaching job—kindergarten,” I said quickly. “I think she hates me.”

He grabbed an empty five-gallon bucket from a stack in the corner. After flipping it over, he perched on the edge. His knee brushed my leg. The small space seemed to shrink a little more. “And the feeling is mutual?”

“She’s… okay.”

“Lying again,” he murmured.

“Fine. She’s tiny and bird-like and she has sweatshirts for every holiday. Swear to you, she had one for Arbor Day. What even is Arbor Day?”

“It’s a day to celebrate⁠—”

I cut him off. “I don’t care about Arbor Day. Read the room.”

Instead of looking offended, he grinned. “Apologies. That’s it, then. You’re avoiding the ex.”

I slumped, a wave of misery mixing with the cake and making me nauseated. “He came to wish me happy birthday and to ask me to be the best woman at his wedding.”

“What is that?”

“It’s a best man except… a woman.”

“Oh, right.”

“They moved the wedding from October to July. They didn’t want their wedding anniversary to be during the school year. But with the date change, his cousin, who was supposed to be the best man, had a conflict with the new date… I am the lucky substitute.” It had stung that I hadn’t even been his first choice. “Do you know what this means? I have a month to find a plus one. But not just any plus one. I need the plus one of all plus ones. Someone who isn’t anything like Aidan. Someone who says, ‘I am so over him.’”

He tilted his head. “Are you? Over him?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. It’s all so confusing. Sometimes I don’t think he’s over me, either.” I swallowed. “He kissed me the day before he proposed to her.”

Abe’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t like him.”

I huffed a surprise laugh. “You don’t even know him. Or me, for that matter. I did kiss him back.”

“Were you almost engaged at the time?”

“Well, no, but⁠—”

He interrupted me. “Did you initiate the kiss?”

“No, I⁠—”

“Then he’s the jerk. Period.” He nodded once for emphasis and the hair tucked behind his right ear tumbled forward. He brushed it back impatiently.

“Then why am I the one who feels so guilty?” I asked out loud, more to myself.

“Because you are not a jerk.” He stood and replaced the bucket he’d been sitting on.