Meg Cabot - Queen of Babble Gets Hitched

I shake my head. “What do you mean, Mae Lin was to make me jealous? What are you talking about?”

“Well, it worked, didn’t it? You were jealous, right? I couldn’t believe how you stomped over there and picked a fight with the poor guy the minute Mae Lin and Valencia went downstairs. He had no idea what was going on. Oh my God, I nearly wet my pants I was laughing so hard.”

Now I’m a little mad. Also a little stunned by Shari’s underhandedness. She’s been my best friend since forever. But I had no idea she was capable of this kind of duplicity.

“Shari,” I say. “That’s so mean. You were plotting all along to fix me up with your ex, when you knew perfectly well I’m engaged? To his best friend? And you used some poor girl from your office to do it?”

“Oh, whatever,” Shari says, making a pooh-poohing gesture. “Mae Lin’s dating a hot paramedic. She was willing to play along. But I never thought you’d actually fall into bed with the guy before breaking up with your fiancé. At your grandmother’s funeral. What are you doing? Have you completely lost it?”

I glare at her. I’m pretty sure I look every bit as accusing—and disapproving—as the Madame Alexander dolls above our heads.

“For your information,” I say, “I was not jealous of Mae Lin. And who I sleep with behind my fiancé’s back at my grandmother’s funeral is my business.”

“Well, excuse me,” Shari says, looking taken aback. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt. You or Chaz.”

“Oh,” I say, unable to keep from letting out a bitter laugh. “Now you’re worried about Chaz’s feelings?”

“Hey.” Shari narrows her eyes at me. “That’s not fair. You know I loved him.”

“Well,” I say. “So do I.”

“Do you?” Shari wants to know. “Well, then why are you still wearing Luke’s ring on your finger?”

“I have some things I still need to figure out,” I admit, uncomfortably pressing my left hand into the mattress so neither of us can see my ring finger. “I’m not saying I have all the answers just yet, Shari. I feel like I’m barely hanging on, as a matter of fact. But I know I love him, and I think I always have.”

“What about Luke?” Shari demands.

“I’m doing the best I can, okay? Luke’s in France,” I say. “I’ll wait until he gets back to figure out what’s going on—or not—between the two of us. In the meantime… well, engaged isn’t married, you know,” I add. “Or dead.” I’m a little startled to find myself parroting Gran’s words. But what more appropriate place to do it, I realize, than after her funeral.

Shari looks at me as if she were seeing me for the first time. Maybe in a way she is. She shakes her head and asks, “Did you ever look up what solipsistic means?”

“Yes,” I say indignantly. “And it’s not true. I’m not extremely preoccupied with indulging my own feelings and desires. If I were, I’d never have moved out of Luke’s Fifth Avenue apartment, much less looked twice at Chaz. He’s a poor graduate student, whereas Luke’s a rich prince, remember?”

Shari, to my relief, lets out a laugh. The Madame Alexander dolls look startled.

“That’s true,” she says. And she reaches over and takes my hand, the one with the engagement ring still on it. “Oh, Lizzie. Be careful. You’re playing with fire here.”

“Me?” I raise my eyebrows. “You’re the one who just admitted you hired a girl from your office on purpose to flirt with Chaz to try to make me jealous!”

“But I thought you’d do the right thing and break up with Luke first,” Shari cries. “Not start sleeping with Chaz during your grandmother’s funeral. Not that it isn’t a fitting tribute to her, one she’d have gotten a huge kick out of. Still. I’m just worried someone’s going to get hurt. And I’m afraid it’s going to be you.”

I squeeze her hand. “I’m a big girl now, Share,” I say. “I can take care of myself.”

But as we make our way back downstairs, I wonder if that’s really true. Can I? It’s true I’m living on my own for the first time ever. I’m supporting myself, running my own business (well, practically), and at any given time spinning a dozen plates in the air at once. If I dropped just one, the whole thing would come tumbling down in a mess like no one would believe…

So what am I doing, having this torrid affair with my fiancé’s best friend?

And it is torrid, I realize when I walk into the living room and notice him standing there waiting for me, and my heart slams into my ribs as it always seems to whenever I see him. I’m not going to escape from this unscathed. None of us are, I know.

But when Chaz lifts his head and I feel that electric shock that always seems to go through me lately when I look in his direction and his gaze meets mine, I realize I don’t care. I don’t care what’s going to happen. As long as we can be together…

For now.

For however long now lasts.

F lowers have always played an important role in weddings, since the very first recorded marriage ceremonies in ancient Greece, where they were used to make a crown for the bride to wear as a gift of nature. Floral wreaths and garlands were often used in ancient ceremonies to bind couples together in lieu of rings.

Different herbs and flowers—such as garlic flowers as well as bulbs—were often carried to ward off evil spirits. Evil spirits, of course, are not the only ones who’d be warded off if brides today started carrying garlic bulbs.

Tip to Avoid a Wedding Day Disaster

It’s traditional to give your wedding guests a favor by which to remember the day. This is a centuries-old practice that stems from the French habit of giving bonbonnieres, or sugared almonds, to departing guests. Today’s couples tend to choose candles or, if you really want to bring on the bling, rhinestone sunglasses.

LIZZIE NICHOLS DESIGNS^™

I am standing with my forehead resting against the wide glass window overlooking the planes landing and taking off on the tarmac in front of me. Chaz and I have flown commercially out of Ann Arbor and are waiting for our connecting flight to LaGuardia from Detroit.

What I hadn’t prepared myself for is Luke’s unexpected phone call midway through the screwdrivers Chaz and I were downing at the Fox Sports Bar while waiting for boarding.

“How are you?” Luke had wanted to know. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there for you, Lizzie. I know it must have been really, really hard. But you know I couldn’t get away from the office. Uncle Gerald really needs me here.”

I’d had to leave the bar and wander the concourse. I couldn’t talk to Luke in front of Chaz.

“Of course,” I’d said. “I know. And I’m good, I’m fine.”

There are thunderheads gathering along the horizon. They’re what’s causing our flight to be delayed. Just a half hour so far. But who knows? We could be stuck in Detroit overnight.

And yet somehow the thought of being stuck in Detroit—or anywhere—with Chaz doesn’t bother me. At all.

It’s wrong that I’m talking to my fiancé on the phone and thinking about how much I don’t mind being stuck in an airport with his best friend. Whom I can’t seem to stop touching. Every time I’m away from him I feel something akin to a physical pain until I can get back to his side and lay my hand on his arm or touch his shoulder or slip my fingers into his… It’s totally bizarre, and something I’ve never experienced before. Not even with Luke, the man to whom I’m engaged.

Rose is right. I am a slut.

“But I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” Luke is saying.

“You have?” I’ve completely lost track of the conversation. Behind me, one of those people movers is going beep-beep-beep as it tries to shuttle some elderly passengers to their gate, and no one will move out of its way.

“I have,” Luke says. “How would you feel about coming to Paris for a week?”

I shake my head as if there were a bee inside it.

“Me?” I ask. “You mean…?”

“Right. I want a break from our break,” he says.

“Um,” I say. “You want me to come visit you? In Paris?”

My God! He can tell! He can tell about me and Chaz! I hadn’t mentioned that Chaz had shown up to the funeral. And Chaz obviously hadn’t spoken to Luke since he’d arrived.

This is horrible. Luke’s going to break up with me now, over the phone. Oh well. I deserve it. I’m a horrible person. I’m on the highway to hell.

I close my eyes, in preparation for being broken up with.

But all Luke says is “It’s just, I’ve really been enjoying my time here. I know I shouldn’t say that, considering what you’ve just been through. But it’s true. I forgot how much I love Paris. And working with Uncle Gerald has been great. I’m really having a blast.”

I open my eyes. Wait. This isn’t breaking up with me. This doesn’t sound like breaking up with me at all.

“I forgot how much I love working in the business world,” Luke goes on. “It’s really been fantastic. And I think you’d love it too. You know what a great time you had here last summer. It’s such a shame you didn’t come with me.”

“Well,” I say. “I really couldn’t afford the time away from work.” Each word sounds foreign as it falls from my lips. Except that I’m speaking in English.

“Sure,” Luke says. “I know. Your job is important to you. I know that now. This break has taught me that. Really, Lizzie. It has.”

I sneak a peek over at Chaz. He’s watching the television over the bar. It’s broadcasting a golf game. Based on his television viewing habits back in the hotel room—the few times we actually turned it on—I’m starting to realize there really isn’t any sport Chaz won’t watch.