Page 11 of Aisle Come Back to You

“Well, we have Pete to thank for that.” Ronnie smiles, placing a hand on her fiancé’s shoulder. Thankfully, he has cooled it with his asshole-type commentary.

Okay, maybe not completely, since he’s spent the majority of the night talking about himself and all of his accomplishments, leaving little room for anyone else to speak. I mean, how many times do we have to listen to him ramble on about how he’s the youngest councilman in town history and how he plans to one day take over as mayor? At least it makes it much easier to keep control of myself and my wandering brain, since every time he speaks, it's the equivalent of a bucket of cold water being dumped all over you.

It could be that I already dislike the hell out of him, and maybe he isn’t as bad as I’ve been leading myself to believe, but with each stolen glance in Blair’s direction, it’s obvious we’re on the same page, as her eyes look completely glazed over, making me feel less alone in my line of thinking.

“In fact, Pete is responsible for most of this dinner. He’s such an amazing cook, right?” Ronnie continues, her eyes filled with pure adoration as she looks toward her fiancé.

“Well, I’ve sort of been forced to take over that role since Veronica here is a disaster in the kitchen,” Pete says, placing his arm around her shoulder. “I don’t think she’s made one meal that hasn’t been burned or undercooked,” Pete chuckles, his voice tinged with an annoying amount of condescension. “But don’t worry. I’ve already got your next birthday present planned out—cooking classes.” I’m sure he expected us to laugh along with him, but instead, his “joke” falls completely flat.

“I hope you’re kidding, because that’s the last thing Ronnie would want as a birthday present,” Blair states, devoid of any and all amusement.

“Not at all. I think it’s the perfect present for her. Don’t you think, babe?” he asks, as we all glance in Ronnie’s direction.

“I’ll be happy with whatever you decide to get me,” she answers as I cock an eyebrow. I get not wanting to cause any trouble, but normally Ronnie isn’t afraid to voice her trueopinion, and I have to say, I’m with Blair on this one. There’s no way that’d be something she’d enjoy.

“Well, in that case, I’ll just have to get you somethingextraspecial this year. Something Iknowyou’ll actually want,” Blair counters.

“Oh hush,” Ronnie brushes her off as she swats her hand toward Blair. “I’m honestly not that picky. Maybe I would enjoy learning some culinary skills. Cooking is an art, after all, so maybe a lesson or two could be kind of fun.”

“Oh, babe, it’sdefinitelygoing to take more than a lesson or two to get you to where you need to be,” Pete cuts in. My hands ball into fists in my lap. Despite my efforts to see the good in him, he’s making it extremely challenging to find even the slightest redeeming quality.

“Maybe you just don’t know your fiancé as well as you think you do, because if anybody can do something they set their mind to, it’s Ronnie,” I say, folding my arms. “If she wants to be a good cook, then she’ll do it. She’s a beast at everything she tries.”

“I’ll believe it only when I see it,” Pete says with an obnoxious chuckle, rolling his eyes, completely oblivious to the fact that none of us find this even remotely funny.

“That’s too bad because—” Blair starts to say, but Ronnie stands up, interrupting before she can complete that thought, which may be for the best, given the way her icy-blue eyes are blazing in his direction.

“Let’s take some of this inside. Pete, can you help me bring in some of the dishes?” she asks, reaching for his hand as she not-so-gently pulls him up.

Despite his lack of enthusiasm and clear annoyance, he seems to decide not to fight her on this. “Yeah, sure,” he gives in, reaching for an empty plate.

In silence, we hand over our dishes, before Blair reaches for the open bottle of wine and proceeds to pour herself anotherglass. “So,” she says, after lifting it to her lips once Ronnie and Pete are inside and out of earshot, “he’s an ass, right? It’s not just me being overprotective?”

“No, it’s not just you. He’s definitely an ass.”

“Damn. I hate this for her,” she sighs, setting her glass down on the table. “I want to be supportive, and I want to like him, but I don’t. I’m actually worried that if I don’t get out of here soon, I’m going to end up saying something I’ll eventually regret.”

“You don’t think it’s too early to dip out?” I ask, looking through the glass door to make sure they’re still out of earshot. I’m not surprised it’s taking a while. I have to imagine that Ronnie is inside giving him a piece of her mind, or at least that’s what the old Ronnie would’ve done.

“I hope not. I mean, we did dinner and dessert. That should be good enough, right? Because if not, I think I’m going to get myself kicked out of the wedding party,” she laughs, despite the fact that there is little to no amusement in the sound.

“Ronnie would never kick you out, but I get it. I’m starting to lose my patience with him, too.”

“We’re back,” Ronnie calls as she and Pete walk into the backyard hand-in-hand. I want to believe it’s a good thing that they seem to be okay, and that there doesn’t seem to be any lingering tension between the two of them. Still, it’s incredibly hard to be happy for the couple when I still can’t make sense of what she sees in him.

Ronnie has dated plenty off-and-on throughout the years. Some guys were absolutely great and balanced her out really well, and some were complete duds, but at this point, I’d take the biggest dud over Pete fucking West.

“Actually, Ford here was just offering to give me a ride home. I’m starting to feel a bit guilty over not spending enough time with Miles. Instead of having my brother come and pick me up, yet again, I figured I’d surprise him.”

I’m not sure her thought process on this was entirely on point, since if she wanted more time with her brother, it would make sense for him to pick her up, but I’m thankful that her excuse includes me as well.

“Oh, yeah. Of course. I understand.” Ronnie nods, though a small pout forms on her face. “I guess I can’t completely monopolize your time at home.”

“And hey, we still have our fittings tomorrow, so I’ll see you as soon as you’re off work,” Blair offers, doing her best to make up for our quick escape.

“Yes, definitely.” Ronnie attempts to smile, even if it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

I should feel bad, and I suppose I do, but more than anything, the prevailing feeling taking over is relief as we all stand up, give hugs, and say our goodbyes. I can’t pretend for even a single second longer that Pete West is even close to being a likable guy. The only decent thing about him is his cooking, and that’s not saying much.

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