Page 102 of My Best French Wedding

TWO DAYS BEFORE THE PRESCOTT-SCHAFER WEDDING

TAMNIÈS, France—“I lied,” Walter said as soon as Hildy finished.

It wasn’t a denial, much less an apology—or writhing on the floor, tortured by regret.

“I know.” She kept her chin up, willing her voice not to waver. “You were using me the whole time. Another person who only cared about my last name, or who I could introduce them to.”

“No!” He was agitated now, suave adult Walter replaced by the splotchy red face and shaky voice she remembered from his insecure teen self. “I was lying toCorinne. You had to know that. I’m no good at pretending.”

“Unlike me, you mean?”

“Hildy.” His voice broke on her name. “I was hurt and humiliated. To find out you were playing me and I was too infatuated to notice? I couldn’t admit to that.”

“How could you think for a second that I wasn’t serious about the work? Or that I just wanted to coast on my name? That’s bullshit, Walter. Youknewme. And that’s who you rejected.Me. Not my uncle or his company or a pile of money.”

“I didn’t say it made sense.” Walter stood to pace, hands clasped at the back of his neck. “Even before that, I wasn’t in my right mind. Being around you was like being high. I couldn’t trust myown perceptions. It was so much easier to think it wasn’t real than to believe that… it was. But it was, wasn’t it?” His voice dropped to a whisper at the end.

Hildy could feel the heat of his gaze, a thousand times more potent than his interview face. But she wasn’t one of his subjects, and she didn’t have to answer his questions. This was her story too, and she was fully capable of telling it like it was.

“It doesn’t change the fact that I showed myself to you, and you said, ‘no thank you.’ To everything about me.”

Walter shook his head. “That’s not what happened.”

“Then explain to me why you withdrew from the competition.” She still remembered the shock of learning he’d dropped out. That had been the final blow, when Hildy would have sworn it couldn’t get any worse.

“Because you took your name off our story,” he said, as if it should have been obvious.

“What choice did I have? You accused me of being a freeloader who was taking credit for other people’s work. I had to show you how wrong you were by doing the opposite!”

“I thought you didn’t care about me, Hildy. That was the killer.” He pressed a hand to his chest, like he could still feel the ache.

“And I thought you didn’t want to be associated with our shitty story, and you were humoring me because of who I was.” She hesitated before admitting the rest. “You probably didn’t even want to do… the other part.”

“I would have crawled over broken glass to be with you.” He waited until she looked at him, as if eye contact would make it harder for him to lie. Did he think she’d forgotten how easily he fooled her before?

“Try to spin it,” she dared him.

“I wasn’t going to win by myself for a story we wrotetogether. It was your idea!”

“That’s so stupid! You could have had a full ride to journalism school. What the fuck!” Unable to contain the urge any longer, Hildy crossed the room to shove him in the shoulder.

Walter grabbed her hand when she tried to pull away. “That’s not the only thing I lost.”

This time, he let her go when she tugged her hand free of his grasp. Hildy took a step back. It would be easier to keep her thoughts in line if he wasn’t touching her.

“And then out of the blue you start covering weddings, like suddenly human-interest stories aren’t beneath you after all. ‘Let me show you how it’s done, silly socialite.’ Though I guess that was an improvement over you writing aboutme. What was that about, Walter? You had to make sure to put me in my place, over and over again?”

He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Then let’s not. We’re not going to get anywhere by reliving some really shitty memories. As if once wasn’t enough. Why don’t we move on to the next super fun item on your agenda, like stabbing ourselves under the fingernail with rusty tweezers? Maybe some light dental work? At least that would be productive.”

After another heavy exhale, something resembling a laugh punched out of his chest.

“Are you mocking me?” Hildy felt like a cat, ready to hiss and unleash her claws—or hide under the furniture until her dignity recovered.

“No.” Walter spread his hands, a gesture of what looked like helplessness. “I can’t believe we both walked away. I’m not sure if that counts as doing the right thing for the wrong reasons or vice versa.”

It was a valid question, though Hildy had no intention of admitting that to him. “I just had a terrible thought.”