Page 83 of The Accidental Honeymoon

Ellie shrugs. "Come findme."

Bennett returns, carrying a tray laden with various English pub foods: fish and chips, bangers and mash, meat pies. He sets it down with a flourish. The table dives in with the enthusiasm of a starving pack of wolves.

As we eat, the stories continue. Calla asks questions about me, and my friends are all too happy to provide answers. She learns about the time we road-tripped to New Orleans, my brief obsession with Ultimate Frisbee, and the ill-fated attempt to start a college radio show. Through it all, she looks genuinely delighted.

I start to see myself through her eyes. It’s a strange, humbling experience.

I notice Wren flitting around the bar. I knew she was going to be here because we texted back and forth a little earlier. My little sister is not in her usual baggy attire. Instead, she wears a fitted blouse and apron, her hair tied back in a neat ponytail. She looks out of place, like a shy mouse playing dress-up.

"Since when does Wren waitress?" I ask Ryan, who’s seated across from me.

He shrugs. "She picks up shifts here and there. You know, for extra cash."

“What, am I not paying her well enough?”

Ryan looks at me pointedly. “Do I look like Wren’s keeper to you?”

“You’re so witty.” I pull a face. “Did someone force her to wear that outfit?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Doesn’t she normally dress like that?”

He looks Wren up and down, his nose wrinkling slightly. He thinks he’s doing a great job at hiding his disdain for my little sister, but he’s not a very good actor.

“Where’s Bennett? I want to find out more about the dress code here.”

Wren approaches our table. She notices me, then looks at Ryan and hesitates. She still hates him for some inexplicable reason. Then again, he is kind of a dick to her. So I guess it’s not totally out of the blue.

"Can I get anyone another drink?" she asks, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

Ryan leans back in his chair, stretching. "I could go for another pint. How about the rest of you?"

There’s a chorus of agreements. Several people shout out orders and Wren starts scribbling notes. When she gets to Ryan, he grins. “Don’t you already know my drink order by heart, you stalker?”

She blushes and stammers something unintelligible. He ruffles her hair and she jumps back as if burned and scurries off to the bar.

I scowl. What does he mean by calling her a stalker?

Calla nudges me with her elbow. "What’s that look for?"

"Nothing," I say, too quickly.

She raises an eyebrow but lets it go. For now.

Wren comes back with the drinks, and the table grows louder and more boisterous. Zach proposes a toast. To what? I’m not sure. We all clink glasses. Calla sips her cider, then leans into me. "Are you mad?" she asks softly.

I’m confused. "Why would I be mad?"

"Because you’re awfully quiet." She pauses. "I liked hearing about your embarrassing moments, by the way."

I laugh despite myself. "They were glorious."

She studies me for a moment, as if deciding whether to press further. "You were scowling at Ryan. Did he do something?"

I sigh. There’s no point in hiding it from her. "I loveRyan. He’s my best friend. But he’s a jerk to Wren. He torments her."

“Ah.” Calla looks over at Ryan, who’s deep in conversation with Reece. "And you don’t think Wren can handle it?"

"I don’t know. I just hope he keeps his eyes off her. I love him, but he’s a total player. He dated Reece for a few months and was such a jackass that he almost drove her out of our friend group. It took them years of awkwardness just to be able to talk to each other again."

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