Page 94 of My Best French Wedding

“Whoa.” Hildy blinked at him. “That’s kind of dark for an article about a wedding.”

“Okay, what about starting right before they get the diagnosis? Maybe he’s even waiting for the doctor to arrive.”

“But then it’s a disease story.” Hildy sat back as the waitress deposited their plates.

“What were you thinking?” Walter asked, reaching for the ketchup.

Hildy waited until he’d blobbed some onto the plate to steal one of his fries, dipping it before taking a bite. “We don’t want it to be all sunshine and rainbows. That’s a fair point.” She angled the remains of the french fry at him. “But we also want to capture how it actually felt to be there, really bring it to life on the page. And I was not getting bummer vibes.”

“Me neither,” Walter admitted, though he wasn’t sure how much of that had to do with Hildy’s presence.

“I think a story can be upliftingandtruthful.”

“You’re an optimist.”

“I don’t know aboutthat. I’m not out here with bluebirds circling my head.”

“That would be awkward.”

“Right?” She grinned at him, and Walter felt like he’d landed on Park Place. “I’m just saying there’s more to life than misery.”

Sitting across from Hildy, he was inclined to agree. Regular life could be magical, under the right circumstances.

“I wonder if we could find their high school drama teacher. Or the guy Carlton understudied.” Her nose wrinkled as she grabbed another fry. “That’s getting off track, isn’t it? This isn’t a showbiz memoir.”

“I thought it was a good idea.” Walter dabbed at his mouth with the paper napkin, worried he was sporting a chin full of grease from the sandwich. “Although other people might be less interested in the high school element than we are.”

“That’s the fairy tale of it.” She nudged her pie plate to the middle of the table, turning one of the forks so the handle faced him. “Destiny and second chances and ‘oh, our paths kept crossing for a reason. We were meant to be!’ People love that stuff.”

“Even though it’s not very realistic?”

“Um, they just got married?”

“Yeah, but you don’t usually stay with a person you meet in high school.”

“I’m sensing baggage. Do you have a tortured relationship history we need to talk about? Because I’m all ears.”

“Uh, no.” He huffed a laugh. “Not a lot going on in that department. I wasn’t talking about myself.”

She held up a finger. “Before you start spilling, if you’re a stress eater we’re going to need another piece of pie.”

Walter fiddled with the strap of his watch. He could dodge the question. They’d just met and might never see each other again after this week. Somehow, that made it easier to tell her the truth. “My mom got pregnant with me her senior year.”

Her expression didn’t change. “And your father?”

“Who?”

“Right.” She hesitated like she had something to say but wasn’t sure how it would be received. “You know what? We’ll talk about my stuff later. My family stuff, not my love stuff.” She broke off a piece of pie crust with her fingers, keeping her eyes on the plate. “I don’t have a boyfriend. In case you were wondering.”

The fact that she was not only single but had chosen to volunteer that information was the best news Walter had heard all day. He felt floaty with hope, like a bobbing helium balloon. “Do you think it’s possible to meet the person you’re meant to be with when you’re our age?”

“Are you asking if I think Carlton and Carlee are going to make it?” Hildy frowned. “You want to put some foreshadowing in the story? Like ‘they seem so happy now, but the future remains uncertain,’” she intoned in a dramatic voice.

He shook his head. “It was more of a philosophical question.”

“Wow, okay. Going deep.” She took a careful sip of water, like she was stalling for time. “In theory, I guess. I feel like I know myself. I could conceivably turn into someone completely different when I’m thirty-five or forty but hopefully not? I think I’d miss me.”

Walter nodded. It was a more thoughtful response than his ridiculous question deserved.