The Sixth Wedding (28 Summers #1.5)(21)

“Don’t you think everyone deserves to find love?” Link asks. “Isn’t that what we’re all programmed to search for? Someone we can connect with—a lover, a friend—someone to build a life with?”

Bess nods but is afraid to speak. She isn’t sure if Link is trying to tell her she might be that person for him (could she be so lucky?) or if he’s blaming Jake for keeping Mallory from finding such a person.

They found love, she wants to say. Maybe it didn’t look like other people’s love—a split-level house with a two-car garage, family road trips in the summer, date night on Saturday—but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t romantic or real. That doesn’t mean they weren’t devoted.

Something about the way her father described his time with Mallory made it sound very real and very romantic. And if twenty-eight consecutive summers “no matter what” wasn’t devotion, then what was?

But before Bess can articulate any of this, two things happen. The first is that a server arrives with their entrées and the second is that Link’s phone plays Toto’s “Africa”—Bess loves that song too—and the screen lights up with the name Stacey.

Link stands up as his plate of palau lands. “I have to take this.”

Bess blinks. “Okay?”

“Outside,” he says. “I’ll be right back.”

Who is Stacey? she wonders. An old girlfriend? A current girlfriend? She tries not to worry. It might be his boss or a coworker or a friend. She feels relieved that they are finished with the Jake and Mallory story. Maybe when Link gets back they can eat and talk about their own lives like two normal people on a date.

Bess watches Link on the sidewalk on his phone, his head bent, his ear plugged. She considers the food. It would be rude for her to start without him, but she’s hungry, so she helps herself to one of the pakoras, which have finally cooled enough to eat. She devours one and is reaching for another when a guy takes Link’s seat.

“Uh…?” Bess says, her mouth full. She swallows. “Wrong table?”

“You’re Bess, right? Bess McCloud?” The guy looks like a Hollister model, or like the lead actor in a sexy HBO series about the Ivy League’s secret societies. And then, of course, it dawns on Bess: It’s the lobbyist.

“Aidan?” she says.

“You ditched me,” he says. “I finally made it to Roofers Union and you were gone.”

Bess stares at Aidan Hydeck’s perfectly coiffed dark hair, his sleepy brown eyes, and his square shoulders and realizes that, in the excitement of leaving Roofers Union with Link, she forgot to cancel this date. And not only that, she continued to share her location with Aidan.

“I’m so sorry,” she says.

He tilts his head and gives her a slow smile. “It’s okay, I was the one who was late.”

“Yeah, but that wasn’t your fault. You got stuck on the Metro.”

“That I did.” He looks at the food on the table. “I don’t mean to be a poor sport but I don’t like Indian food.”

“It’s Afghan.”

“Even worse,” he says. “I was really looking forward to wings at the Roof.” Only then does he seem to notice Link’s empty beer glass and the share plate with the now-cold pakora. “Oh snap, are you here with somebody?”

Bess is at an utter loss. She checks out the window. Link is still on the phone, standing just off the curb in the street between two parked cars.

Aidan follows her eyes and taps the glass. “That guy?”

“He’s…an old friend. He showed up at Roofers Union and…oh God, Aidan, I’m so sorry. I meant to let you know I was leaving. I’m not like this, I swear.”

Aidan gets to his feet. “It’s fine,” he says. “I would suggest that we reschedule when you’re not quite so busy but now that I’ve seen you in person, I don’t think I want to bother.”

Bess recoils. Did he just say that? She knows he’s angry but that was dirty.

He leans down by her ear and says, “The only reason I asked for this date is because I know who your mother is.”

Link approaches the table. “Hey?”

Aidan turns around and smirks at him. “She’s all yours, bruh.”

Bess is so angry she wants to dump her palau all over Aidan’s gorgeous lobbyist head. Instead, she stares at the table and waits for Aidan to leave the restaurant; she can’t make a scene, not here. She wants to ask Shamin to wrap everything to go so that Bess can eat it alone in her apartment. Link was on the phone with Stacey for so long that all Bess can imagine is he’s about to offer an excuse to cut dinner short so he can meet her.

How can she live in a city filled with men and still not be able to meet anyone suitable?

When she raises her head, Link has retaken his seat. He’s leaning forward, staring at her. “Friend of yours?”

“That was Aidan,” Bess says. “The lobbyist.” Aidan was the last man on earth she should have chosen off Bumble. Now that I’ve seen you in person, I don’t think I want to bother. The only reason I asked for this date is because I know who your mother is.

“He seemed like a real peach and I’m sorry you missed out on spending the evening with him, but I’ll try to make it up to you.” Link reaches for Bess’s hand again.