Page 5 of The Wedding Favor

I rubbed my eyes, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. Why had I told him all of this? The only person I’d confided in was Gloria and she could keep a secret. “I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“It’s between you and me.”

“Thanks,” I said softly, unable to look him in the eye.

Several beats of silence filled the supply closet. Someone was singing (I use that word loosely) an earsplitting rendition of “I Will Always Love You.” I shuddered in horror for myself, for everyone in earshot, for humanity.

He touched my shoulder. “I could go with you.”

“What?” I blinked, confused.

He crouched in front of me. “To the wedding. I could go with you.”

“That’s…” I shook my head. “No one in their right mind would offer that. You can’t be serious.”

But he wasn’t grinning, there was no twinkle in his eye, no hint of a “Ha! Got you!” He looked very, very serious. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

It was a huge deal and a ridiculous idea. I couldn’t take Abe Ramos to Aidan’s wedding… Could I?

Although… Abe was the complete opposite of Aidan. He was older, he was covered in tattoos and piercings and he had a past. He’d be… kind of perfect.

“But why would you do that?” I squinted, suddenly suspicious.

“It’s your birthday.” When I still hesitated, he continued, “Think of it as a favor. You’ll owe me one.”

I bit my bottom lip. It wasn’t like I had a lot of options. I hadn’t been in a relationship since Aidan. I mean, I wasn’t completely pathetic; there had been dates. But my stupid feelings always got in the way of anything becoming serious. Abe wasn’t my type at all and that made him safe. No feelings. A favor between friends. And surely he wouldn’t make the favor I owed him something awful…

I nodded slowly. “If you’re serious, I accept your offer.” I held out my hand. “And I’ll owe you one.”

Abe slid his hand against mine, and my breath hitched. Even his hands were different. Aidan had long, thin fingers, smooth, almost elegant. He’d even gotten a few manicures. But Abe’s were thick, callused and dotted with small white scars. Colorful tattoos swirled over the back of his hand.

“Deal,” he said.

“Deal.”

He squeezed my hand before standing and moved toward the door. “Happy birthday, Iris.”

“Why does this feel like the plot to a bad romance novel?”

He put his hand on the doorknob. Mischief flashed in his eyes. “Am I the hero or the villain?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

He peeked out into the hallway through a tiny crack in the door. “Let me know when you figure it out.”

With one last grin over his shoulder, he slipped out.

TWO

“My mother was a very practical woman

and I was… not.”

—excerpt from the unpublished memoir,

Darling, I Must Say by Gloria Hayes

“Did I really just agree to go to this wedding with Abe Ramos?” I asked the jar of pickles where it sat in the passenger seat of my car. “It’s either the worst idea I’ve ever had or the best.”