Page 53 of My Best French Wedding

A person who didn’t know Walter well might have missed the undercurrent of snark, but to Hildy it was like a metal snap fastening into place. They were back in alignment.

“I thought you might be hoping for one last score,” she volleyed. “Déjà vu all over again.”

“Here?” He made a show of looking around. “In this field full of people?”

“You wish. A score as in selling a story about my private life to your former tabloid overlord. For old time’s sake.”

He took a step closer. “And what exactly would I report?”

“You want me to give you the headline? Way to phone it in, Burns.” Hildy surveyed the nearest cluster of wedding guests. “Maybe I’m dating him. In the pink shorts.” She indicated a group of Robbie’s college buddies on their way to the lake.

“You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“Rugby thighs.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“Yes, you do.” Hildy sent a flirty little wave at her hypothetical vacation boyfriend. He pointed at himself, brow creased.

“Do you even know that guy?”

“Does it matter? I’m sure you can get someone to take a picture of me standing near him. Voila! Instant relationship.”

To his credit, Walter took that one on the chin, lowering his head as if to saytouché.

“I guess I could ask him out,” Hildy mused, staring at the sporty stranger as if giving the idea serious consideration. “Add a little meat to the story. As it were. Maybe it’ll turn into something. That would be a great anecdote to tell our grandchildren.”

Hildy’s imaginary paramour took a step in their direction, until Walter’s glare stopped him in his tracks.

“I don’t see it,” Walter said. “A guy like that—he’s not going to give you what you need.”

“Which is what?” It was foolish to allow Walter that kind of opening, but Hildy’s curiosity outweighed her sense of self-preservation.

“Someone who can go toe to toe with you.” Walter turned to face her. “Otherwise you’ll get bored.”

That was an uncannily accurate summation of her dating history. Hildy pretended not to care. “Well, let me know if you run across someone who has what it takes.”

“I will.” His inflection was just ambiguous enough to give her pause.

“Is that why you’re nipping at my heels, Walter? You think I require a chaperone?”

“Most of this stuff is for pairs, and I don’t really know anyone else. Except Corinne, and she went back to the hotel to meet Gabby’s shuttle.”

Hildy waited for Walter to correct himself. “And Maude,” she prompted when he appeared to have been struck by girlfriend amnesia.

“Oh. Right.” His slow nod was the definition of unconvincing.

“You know, don’t you?” A wave of guilt made Hildy’s skin prickle, like it was a size too small for her body. She should have said something sooner.

“Know what?”

Shit. Maybe he didn’t know. “Something about Maude?” she hinted, keeping it vague.

“Are you trying to trick me into revealing something about the wedding?”

“No! This isn’t about work.” Unless Walter disappeared to lick his wounds when the situation with Maude blew up. It was not a thought that brought any satisfaction. If anyone was going to make him run away crying when he got his ass handed to him at this wedding, it should be Hildy.Aftershe told him the truth about his girlfriend, because if their positions were reversed, Hildy would want to know. And there was a difference between pranking someone and neglecting to mention the ticking time bomb under their bed.

“I know the timing isn’t great, and I’m probably the last person you want to hear this from, but I think Maude… might beinvolved with that Loïc guy.” She braced herself for denial or even anger, but Walter just blinked at her, like he’d temporarily gone offline.