Page 54 of My Best French Wedding

After waiting a few more seconds, Hildy’s patience ran out. “Are you doing some kind of man thing where you act like you don’t have feelings, or do you not believe me? Because I swear, I’m only trying to dominate you professionally. I wouldn’t mess with your personal life.”

“Good to know.”

“You don’t seem that upset.”

“I’m not.”

She studied his face for signs that he was crying on the inside before accepting that Walter was telling her the truth. Which meant… well, she wasn’t sure what exactly, except that she’d just embarrassed herself. “I should have listened to Corinne. She said you probably had an open relationship.”

“It’s not that.”

“Throuple?”

Walter sighed. “We’re friends.”

There was an audible pause before she asked, “Who?”

“Me and Maude. Who did you think I meant?”

“That. What you said.” She cleared her throat. “Explain.”

“We hung out a few times. It was obvious to both of us it wasn’t going to go any further, but she needed a date to her sister’s wedding, and figured I might want to cover it. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

“When you say, ‘mutually beneficial,’ does that mean sex?”

“No. I told you—it’s not like that. At all.”

“Damn it!”

“You’re mad I’m not sleeping with Maude?”

“No! I’m upset that you fooled me. Here I am, a past master of the fake-dating form, and I totally fell for it. I must be losing my touch.” She shook her head. “And to think I was worried aboutyour feelings. No wonder you don’t care whether she’s making l’amour with another dude. I thought you were just clueless.”

“You have a lot of faith in my observational skills. Considering how not subtle those two have been.”

“People see what they want to see.” Surely he’d been to enough weddings to realize that. “Love is blind, etcetera.”

Walter looked like he wanted to keep arguing, but a buzzing electric hum announced the arrival of Mr. Prescott aboard a tricked-out golf cart with garlands of flowers draped around the sides.

“If it isn’t the press pool,” he said, gliding to a stop beside them. “Enjoying yourselves?”

As with most of her conversations with their host, there were multiple layers to what sounded like a simple question.Are you impressed with the scale of this production? Can you believe someone as important as yours truly is taking the time to be friendly with the help? I trust your publication will pay suitable tribute to the majesty of this wedding?

“Yes.” Hildy widened her eyes just enough to appear sweet and innocent without looking like a dope.

“Very much so,” Walter chimed in.

“We were pleased to be able to get Scudro. He did the landscape art piece you’ll see on the helicopter tour. You know, a lot of people think Banksy has gone bougie.”

Hildy nodded as if she’d heard the same thing, while privately wondering if Mr. Prescott had seriously attempted to hire the famously anonymous guerilla artist as a party clown for his daughter’s wedding week.

“Have you tried the life-size Settlers of Catan?”

“It’s on our list.” Walter didn’t specify which list.

“Good, good.” Mr. Prescott was already scanning the horizon. “You haven’t seen Maude, have you?”

Hildy stared at the grass as if she was searching for a four-leafclover. There was no chance she could talk about Maude right now without giving away the game.