Page 104 of My Best French Wedding

Walter hesitated. “What are the options?”

“The hating or the… not hating.”

“I never hated you, Hildy.”

“You could have fooled me.”

“Come on. You know that’s not what we do. Our fights are—”

Electric. Invigorating. Almost as big a rush as holding a finished copy of my magazine. “Childish,” she said.

“Thrilling,” he countered.

“See? We can’t even agree about this. Not to mention the part where we’re still competing for this story. You think that’s going to be smooth sailing?”

“I think people can change. If they want to. And aren’t stubbornly determined to assume the worst. There could be more to the story. A second act.”

Also known as taking the risk of running her heart through the garbage disposal all over again. Because even if they hadn’t really hated each other all these years, they’d both been deeply wounded. She was saved from having to admit she was afraid by a knock on the door.

“Oh good, you’re both here!” Fiona said when Hildy answered. “See, Robbie? I told you they were hooking up.”

“And I said there was too much tension for you to already be sleeping together,” her fiancé filled in. “But I should have known Fee was right.”

“What can I do for you?” Hildy asked, ignoring Walter’s presence at her back. He couldn’t just stand beside her like a normal person or hover at a respectful distance. She was pretty sure she could feel his breath tickling the nape of her neck. When she slid a foot back, intending to step on his toes, he grabbed her waist as if she’d slipped.

“Careful,” he murmured, right into her ear. Because of course he was practically glued to her back now. Walter must be trying to make an argument with his body that he hadn’t been able to sell with his mouth:There’s still something between us—and it’s not animosity.

As if being attracted to him had ever been the problem!

Fiona and Robbie exchanged a significant look.

“We wanted you to be the first to know. Since it was your idea.” Fiona took Robbie’s hand, arm swinging as if she could barely hold in her excitement.

“Which idea would that be?” Hildy asked, feigning calm.

“Getting married on our own terms.” Fiona spoke with unmistakable pride. “We don’t need the live peacocks, and a light show, and an orchestra, and a twenty-course tasting menu as long as we have each other.”

Robbie nodded his support. “I want to marry Fiona the way she wants to get married.”

“Wild and free! No shoes! No cameras! No passive-aggressive great-uncles!” Fiona sounded like she was warming up for a poetry slam.

When Walter’s hand tightened at Hildy’s waist, she couldn’t tell if he was having a nervous spasm, or she’d swayed from the sensation of a trapdoor opening under her feet.

“Tell me more,” Hildy said, as if they were discussing what Fiona had ordered for dinner. “What exactly are you envisioning?”

“Just like tonight.” Fiona let go of Robbie to squeeze Hildy’s shoulders. “Thank you so much for suggesting we go out there. It made everything so clear!”

Robbie gave an emphatic nod. “What she said.”

“I love you so much!” Fiona threw herself at her fiancé, kissing him with an enthusiasm that made Hildy instinctively back away to give them privacy—sending her right into Walter’s arms.

It felt a little like support, his warmth and strength there to prop her up. That was comforting but also confusing, because it was Walter.

“So you still want to get married at the castle?” Hildy asked when Fiona and Robbie were finished tonguing each other.

“Oh, for sure!” Fiona confirmed. “That part is perfect. We could go back right now!”

Robbie pointed at her, as if he’d never heard a better idea. “I’ll grab the rings!”