Meg Cabot - Queen of Babble Gets Hitched

For a second, it’s as if all activity in the restaurant freezes. I suck in my breath.

Then Chaz groans, dropping his face into his hands, “Tell me you didn’t just go there, man.”

But Luke only glares at me across the table, his expression defiant. He’s not backing down.

I am, though.

Because suddenly, I know what’s going on with me. I know exactly what’s going on with me.

And what’s going on with me is that I’m done. I can’t take it anymore.

I snatch up my bag, scoot out from behind the table, and say, “You don’t even know my family. Because in all this time, you’ve still never even bothered to come home with me to meet them.”

Luke’s expression has lost some of its defiance.

“Lizzie,” he says. “Look—”

“No.” I thrust a heavily callused finger in his face. I may not have a pretty manicure like Valencia, but I bet my fingers have created way more lace ruching than hers ever have. I’ve worked my ass off for these calluses. And I’m damned proud of them. “No one disses my grandmother. Especially if they’ve never even met her.”

“Lizzie,” he says, his expression contrite. “I’m—”

“No,” I interrupt him. I can barely see him, my vision is so cloudy with tears. But I’m hoping he isn’t noticing that part. “If that’s how you feel about my family, Luke, why don’t you just go marry yourself? Since that’s who you’re obviously so in love with anyway.”

Okay, not the wittiest of comebacks. But it’s all I can think of in the heat of the moment, what with the tears and all.

I do see Chaz raise his eyebrows, as stunned as I am by my outburst. Valencia can’t seem to raise her gaze from her wineglass, she’s so embarrassed to be seen with me. But I can’t back down now. I don’t want to back down. Instead, I turn on my heel and stalk out of the room, ignoring Luke as he stands up and says, “Lizzie. Lizzie, come on.”

Fortunately a waitress bearing a huge tray of Cosmopolitans swoops past me, blocking his path, and I hurry downstairs and outside, toward Perry Street… where a black stretch limo is pulling up just as I step off the curb to look for a cab to flag down. As I peer past the limo, hoping to see a cab with the TAXI sign lit up, meaning it’s available, one of the limo’s rear smoked windows rolls down and a familiar voice calls, “Lizzie? Oh my God.”

And Ava Geck, wearing a spangled pink tube top beneath a pair of what appear to be white rubber lederhosen, leans out the window and says, “Get in, quick, before anyone sees me.”

“Ava, what are you doing here?” I am not unconscious of the fact that everyone has already seen her. Everyone gathered in front of the Spotted Pig has looked up from his or her BlackBerry and is whispering, Oh my God! It’s Ava Geck! You know, Get it at Geck’s!

“Why,” I ask, thoroughly confused, “aren’t you in Greece, Ava?”

“I’ll tell you in the car,” Ava says. “Please. Just get in.”

“Ava.” I rub at the tears still sliding around in the corners of my eyes. “What happened? You’re supposed to be getting married tomorrow.”

“I know,” Ava says. “Just get in, and I’ll explain.”

“Lizzie!”

I throw a frantic glance over my shoulder and see Luke coming out the door of the Spotted Pig, his napkin still in one hand.

I’m surprised—I really hadn’t thought he’d follow me—but I don’t hesitate a second longer. I fling open the closest door to Ava’s limo and dive in.

“Go,” I yell to the driver. “Please, just go!”

“Hey,” Ava says as I scramble over her in my haste to grab a seat. “Is that your boyfriend? He’s cute.”

“Yes,” I say. “Please, can we go? I have to get out of here.”

“Lizzie.” Luke hurries up to the limo’s still-wide-open window. “Where are you going?”

“Please go,” I beg Ava’s driver, who surprises me by doing just that.

And soon Luke, the Spotted Pig, and all the hipsters standing outside it, busily texting with their BlackBerries, are just tiny specks in the distance.

The Victorians were the ones who took weddings—as they did almost everything—to a whole other level. The industrial revolution proved that just about anything could be mass-produced, and soon savvy merchants realized that they could convince their wealthier customers not to be content with mere home-baked wedding cakes and homespun bridal gowns… no!

Now, instead of needing bridesmaids to trick evil spirits or as armed warriors, the modern bride needed them to help with invitations, choosing the cake, floral arrangements, her gown, their gowns—you name it. Pretty crafty of those shop owners, huh?

And so the wedding as we know it today was born. Alleluia… or curses, as the case may be.

Tip to Avoid a Wedding Day Disaster

Wedding costs breakdown, or—who pays for what (Remember, this is traditionally. With today’s more modern couples opting to pay for their weddings themselves, things are changing. But up until recently, the norm was the following):

The Bride:

Thank-you gifts for the maid of honor, bridesmaids, and hostess

The wedding gown, headpiece, and accessories

The groom’s ring

Flower-girl basket and ring-bearer pillow

Hotel accommodations for any attendants who will be arriving from out of town

The Groom:

The marriage license

Thank-you gifts for the best man and groomsmen

The bride’s engagement ring

The bride’s wedding ring

Clothing (tuxedo rental) and accessories

The bride’s flowers

Corsages for mothers/grandmothers and boutonnieres for groomsmen

Clergyman/officiant fee

Limousine service/transportation to and from the wedding and reception

Hotel accommodations for any groomsmen who will be arriving from out of town

The Bride and Groom:

Wedding pictures

Miscellaneous accessories (wedding favors, goblets, napkins/ printed items)

Thank-you gifts for the flower girl and ring bearer

Thank-you cards

Any overnight accommodations for themselves

Their honeymoon arrangements, unless another relative or friend offers to pay for it as a wedding gift

Parents of the Groom:

Dress/suit and accessories

The rehearsal dinner

Their hotel accommodations

Bridesmaids:

Dresses and accessories

Wedding shower

Groomsmen:

Clothing (tuxedo rental) and accessories

Bachelor party

Parents of the Flower Girl/Ring Bearer:

Dress, suit/tuxedo rental, and accessories

Hotel accommodations if arriving from out of town

Parents of the Bride:

Everything else

LIZZIE NICHOLS DESIGNS^™

“What are you and Luke fighting about?” Ava wants to know. She’s cradling Snow White on her slim, tanned thighs. Besides the tube top and white rubber lederhosen, she is also wearing pink suede platform boots. I suppose I should be grateful that both her boobs and crotch are completely covered for once, but rubber and suede… in late June?

“Just wedding stuff,” I lie to her, although I know I should be nicer and tell her the truth, since she has, in a sense, just rescued me. The only problem is… I don’t know what the truth is, exactly.

And I actually have more pressing concerns at the moment. Like why I’m in a stretch limo with Ava Geck.

“Ava, what are you doing here?” I ask. “Why aren’t you in Greece?”

“I couldn’t go through with it,” Ava says simply, then gasps and seizes my arm. “Oh my God! What happened to you? Lizzie—has Luke been beating you?”

I look down at the hives, which have now broken out all over the insides of both my arms. In a way, they do resemble bruises.

“No,” I say with a laugh, because the idea of Luke ever hitting me is so absurd. I could probably knock him clear into New Jersey. “They’re just hives. I get them every time I think about… you know.”

“Butt sex?” Ava asks understandingly.

“No,” I cry, ripping my arm from her grasp. “My wedding. And what do you mean, you couldn’t go through with it? You mean you just… canceled your wedding to Prince Aleksandros?”

“That’s about it,” Ava says with a sigh, patting Snow White on the head as the poor dog trembles in the icy blast from the limo’s air conditioner. “I was just boarding Daddy’s private jet, and suddenly it hit me: I’m about to become someone’s wife. I was like… are you shitting me? I’m only twenty-three! I haven’t even been to college. What am I doing, becoming someone’s wife? So I jumped back into the car and I’ve been riding around ever since, trying to get my head together.”

I gaze at Ava, truly touched by her words. Especially since I’m twenty-three too. “So you’ve decided to go to college? Ava, that is so great!”

“Hell, no, I’m not going to college,” Ava says, looking shocked. “Are you kidding me? I’m just saying there’s so many things like going to college that I haven’t done. I’m not throwing my life away yet on some guy, even if he is a prince. I have shit to do. I don’t know what, but… like, I was thinking I should cut an album. Something classy, you know? Like Hilary Duff.”

I blink at her. “Well… yes. Yes, that is definitely something you could do.”