Page 44 of The Trouble with Runaway Brides

“Oh, I like that caprese salad idea,” Will says.

“Kenzie, I made sure for the sampling there’s no allium in anything.”

She looks surprised. “You did? That’s why I didn’t try the chicken soup.”

I wave the server over. “Can you bring the bride back out a cup of the soup without the garlic in it?”

She nods and heads out of the room.

“What are you talking about?” Will looks at me, then at Kenzie. “What is he talking about?”

Is he serious?

Kenzie laughs, but it’s not her real one. It’s the one I see in interviews with him sometimes. “My allium allergy. You know, garlic, onions, and stuff.”

His forehead wrinkles. “Is that hereditary?”

Her eyes crinkle. “I don’t think so. No one in my family besides me has it.”

“Good.”

“Excuse me.” I stand, unable to sit there any longer without saying exactly what I’m thinking.

Which is that her fiancé is a selfish prick. I walk straight out of the room, then out the doors into the parking lot. All I want to do is scream, but I pace until I’ve calmed myself. My reaction is unnecessary, inconvenient, and annoying. Finally, I convince myself that it’s not my problem—she chose him. She wants to marry him. Maybe their relationship is amazing behind closed doors.

So I walk back in, making an excuse that I had to check on something, but Kenzie must see through my excuse because her cheeks are red from embarrassment.

“Women always keeping secrets,” he says to me as if we’re friends.

“What salad did you enjoy the most?” I ask, ignoring him and looking straight at Kenzie.

“The caprese.” Will hands his back to the server.

“I really like the house,” she says. “These croutons are so good. I remember when Brinley and I used to work here, we’d always steal bags of them.”

I laugh, remembering sneaking them out and putting them on her salad at Lard Have Mercy. She’d always kiss me as a thank-you. At the time, nothing felt better in the world than her appreciation over some damn croutons.

“We make them daily and they’re one of our most requested items.”

“I think everyone would like the caprese salad.” Will digs his heels in. “You can have as many salads with the croutons in them as you like while you’re staying here.”

Kenzie smiles and wipes her mouth, staring at the table. I struggle not to open my mouth because if they were anyone else, I wouldn’t get involved. It’s not my place.

“Next are the three dishes you picked to be sampled for your main course—beef Wellington, chicken cordon bleu, and steamed salmon. I suggest a sushi bar for appetizer hour. It’s been a great hit whenever we’ve had it. They make it fresh as your guests request it.”

“I like that,” Kenzie says.

Will shrugs. “Okay.”

They try the dishes as I watch, praying this will be over soon.

They decide on the beef Wellington and salmon together. We pair it with a potato and vegetables. Once we’re done, Will excuses himself to use the restroom.

“Must be nice for Will to have you be so accommodating to what he wants,” I say once he’s gone.

She throws her napkin on the table. “Don’t start with me.”

I push out my chair and stand. “Come on, Kenz, he walks all over you.”

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