Save the Date (9 page)

“Lawyers,” Leo says sympathetically. “I’ve been to a couple of those weddings.”

“But I had no idea my sisters could actually permanently disfigure me,” I say. “I mean, I
think I might be scarred for life.”

“No way,” he says, touching my knee. His hand is cool against my hot skin, and I nearly miss what he says next, I’m so distracted by the feeling. “No matter what happened, I promise you it’s fixable. We’re experts at this stuff.”

“All right,” I say. “Tell me what you’d do for a facial gone horribly awry.”

“Ah,” he says. “Don’t worry, the redness should go down by tomorrow.”

I lean over and rest my head on my knees, wrapping my arms around my legs. Under the sweatshirt it’s dark and warm, and I feel like I could go to sleep right here, except that Leo’s presence beside me has my heart beating too fast for that. After a moment, I feel his hand on my back—hesitantly at first, and then gently rubbing my shoulders. That should definitely keep me awake.

“Haven’t you had a facial before?” he asks.

“Nope,” I murmur. “Why, have you?”

He laughs. “I’ve never been
in
a wedding,”
he admits. “I’ve just stood around the edges of lots of them.”

“I didn’t want a facial,” I say. “I tried to tell her that, but Vicky was all excited about this being her bridesmaid present to us.”

“You could have said no,” Leo suggests.

“And ruin her special day? I wouldn’t dream of it. She’s having enough problems with Lucille. I try to be an agreeable bridesmaid.”

“That’s very thoughtful,” Leo says. “I’ve met plenty of disagreeable bridesmaids, and they do seem to make the whole day harder for the bride.”

“Exactly. I just want Victoria to be happy. And for it all to be over,” I add with a laugh. His hand moves up my back, under the sweatshirt draped over my head, and he starts stroking my hair. It’s the most amazing feeling. See, if a spa were more like this, maybe I could handle it. Although it probably wouldn’t be good business practice to have “hot guy lovingly strokes your hair” be one of the services offered. Nor would I like it if it were anyone but Leo doing this, of course.

“Well, they may not show that they appreciate it,” Leo says, “but I’m sure they do. You’re a kind bridesmaid, and a great sister.”

“JAAAAAAACK!” Victoria screams from inside the house. “What are you DOING? WE NEED YOU IN HERE RIGHT NOW!”

I sigh. Leo wraps his arm around my shoulders and squeezes gently. “You’ll make it,” he says. “Hang in there.”

“Thanks, Leo,” I say. “You’d make a great bridesmaid yourself.” I peek at him through the gap in the sweatshirt and he grins at me before getting up and strolling back to his car.

Inside, Victoria has commandeered my computer because it’s the one with iTunes and the best sound. Lucille and Kelly are sprawled across my bed (um, in what universe is that okay?), Mom and Dad have dragged in armchairs, and Sofia has somehow cleared a space for herself on the floor. You know, I love that my parents don’t make me clean my room, but I’d also appreciate a little warning before any seven-person gatherings descend on the place.

I join Sofia on the floor as Vicky clicks on a song.

“We’re listening to samples of all the songs the band can play,” Sofia explains to me. “So Vicky can choose which ones she wants them to do at the wedding.”

“‘My Heart Will Go On’!” Lucille screeches with delight. “They HAVE to play that! That is the BEST song!”

“Oh, totally!” Vicky agrees, putting a star next to the song name. “I love Celine Dion!”

Sofia starts to giggle. This is because last night I jokingly wrote out a list of the songs that I knew Victoria would pick, because (a) they are played at Every. Single. Wedding. Ever., (b) they are terrible songs that no one can dance to, and (c) I totally hate them, so they’re guaranteed to be played at all of my sisters’ weddings (except Sofia’s, as she has impeccable taste, of course). “My Heart Will Go On” was at the top of the list.

Vicky does, in fact, pick nearly all of them, but it takes a large portion of the day. It isn’t until that evening, when I go out the front door
to walk Dublin, that I find a small package on the front porch with my name on it. Inside is a face cream with a note from Leo:
IT’S IMPOSSIBLE TO MAKE YOU PRETTIER THAN YOU ARE
,
BUT HOPEFULLY THIS’LL MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER
.

It’s cool and soothing and smells like coconut, and it really does make my skin feel better, finally.

I send him a short e-mail:
MY HERO
.

And I go to bed smiling.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MY EYES! LOOK AT MY EYES!”

Yes, it’s the beautiful bride on her wedding morning. This is how I was woken up the last two times, too. Alexandria woke up with a zit on her forehead (“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!! MY FACE! LOOK AT MY FACE!”) and Sydney decided on her wedding morning that she had somehow gained twenty pounds overnight (perhaps at the rehearsal dinner) and that her dress was definitely not going to fit.

Victoria is here because she didn’t want Kevin to see her before the ceremony, so she
slept over at our place the night before. This created a great deal of awkwardness about what to do with Paris, since the two of them
still
haven’t spoken to each other since the fight at Victoria’s bridal shower. But luckily Paris decided to jet off for the weekend with Jiro to buy their wedding rings from a jewelry designer she knows in Florida. So at least it’s not as completely insane around here as it could be.

Sofia opens my door, darts inside with Dublin, and closes it quickly behind her, pressing her back against the door as if she’s being chased by werewolves. Our dog gallops over and leaps on the bed with me. He looks nervous, too, burying his face under the pillow next to mine.

“Hair and makeup appointments in an hour,” Sofia gasps. “And we’d better get Carolina over here. Victoria didn’t sleep well, so her eyes are bloodshot and puffy and she’s decided that she can’t possibly get married today.”

“She wouldn’t be one of our sisters if she didn’t,” I say, sticking my hand out of the covers
and feeling around for the phone. Carolina answers after one ring.

“I’m on my way,” she says before I can say anything. “Can I bring anything?”

“Doughnuts,” I say, and I also explain about Vicky’s freak-out.

“No problem,” Carolina says. “Be there soon.” She hangs up, and I roll myself reluctantly out of bed.

“So Ben is definitely coming,” Sofia says nervously. She finally told the rest of the family about him a couple of weeks ago. Vicky couldn’t have cared less who he was; she was just thrilled that Sofia found a date to her wedding. As for
my
missing date…she hasn’t brought it up in a few weeks. I’m hoping she stuck another relative in there, or better yet, left it empty, so I don’t have to worry about it. I haven’t brought it up because if she’s forgotten about it, I certainly don’t want to be the one to remind her.

“I’d say that’s great,” I say, pulling clothes out of drawers, “but you know what I think. Watch out for the curse.”

“It’s going to be fine,” she says. “What could happen?” This makes us both laugh.

“At least you know he loves you,” I say.

“He’s not like David. At least he’s said it.”

“Most guys aren’t like David,” Sofia says.

“You should give them a chance…well, at least one of them.” She winks. I’ve told her about Leo, but I’ve given her strict instructions to keep me away from him as much as possible.

“After Paris’s wedding,” I say firmly. “Maybe. Don’t forget to wear a button-down shirt for the hair and makeup.”

“Please,” she says, “like I don’t know that. I was in the last two weddings, too!”

As soon as I’m showered and dressed, I join Mom, Carolina, and Sofia as we try to calm Victoria down. Vicky absolutely refuses to eat anything, so Sofia and I split her doughnut between us. Carolina has brought stuff for Vicky’s eyes that reduces the puffiness, and by the time her makeup is on and her hair is done, several hours later, my sister looks beautiful, which I tell her.

“Do you really think so?” she says, studying herself in the mirror. We are at the manor in the botanical gardens, in the dressing room. Sydney and Alexandria have been sent to supervise the ceremony setup, Mom is double-checking the centerpieces and table settings, and Sofia is on a mission to get new stockings for the bridesmaids, because Victoria decided at the last minute that the ones we’d already bought were too dark.

“Absolutely,” I say, tucking a strand of hair behind the flower crown. “Kevin has no idea how lucky he is.” Why
anyone
would marry him, let alone someone as sweet and gorgeous and creative as Vicky, is beyond me, but of course I don’t say that.

She smiles. “Oh, I’m pretty lucky, too.” She shivers happily. “I’m so excited about marrying him.” I like hearing that. As long as Vicky is happy, I don’t have to like him, too.

Vicky catches my hand, beaming, and for a moment I catch a glimpse of the sister I liked before she turned into a crazy bride. For a
moment she looks sweet and starry-eyed, more excited about being in love than insane about planning a wedding. “Jack,” she says, “it’s been too busy to really say anything, but I want you to know how much I’ve appreciated your help with all this.”

“Seriously?” I say.

“You think I didn’t notice?” she jokes. Um,
yeah
. “It’s nice to have someone to rely on,” she goes on, turning back to the mirror and fiddling with her hair. “And you’re always there for us. So, you know, thanks.”

Awww. Man, I am such a sucker for that kind of thing. Alex and Sydney didn’t say anything like thank you, but maybe I was less helpful when I was fourteen and fifteen. Or maybe Vicky’s just a better sister. I wrap my arms around her shoulders and hug her.

“CAREFUL!” she shrieks. “The HAIR!” I leap back and she wrinkles her nose at me, which makes me start giggling. It’ll be great when this wedding is over and Victoria becomes pleasant to spend time with again.

Carolina bustles in with a box that’s overflowing with flowers. Right behind her is Leo.

“I beg your pardon,” I say. “This is a
girls’
dressing room, young man.”

He grins. “I just brought over the bouquets from the florist,” he says.

Victoria whirls around and looks him up and down. “I hope you’re not wearing that to the wedding,” she says to him.

“No, I’m on my way home to change,” he says.

“To the wedding?” I ask. “He’s coming to the wedding?”

“He’s your date,” Victoria announces, patting my head patronizingly. “Since you didn’t get one for yourself, I found one for you.” All my warm fuzzy feelings for her evaporate with remarkable speed. She leans in and whispers, “I’m sure you’ve never noticed him, but he’s actually quite cute.”

Yeah. I’ve never noticed that.

“When did this happen?” I ask, putting my hands on my hips and glaring at him. He lifts his
hands with an adorable, “What could I do?” expression as Carolina sets the box of bouquets on the table beside me.

“A few days ago,” Vicky says dismissively.

I’m trying to give Leo a severe, disapproving look, but the effect is ruined somewhat by the fact that I start sneezing my head off.

A-choo. A-choo! AAAA-CHOO!

“Uh-oh,” Carolina says.

“You should have—
achoo!
—told me,” I say to Victoria.

“Jack,” she says with a frown, but I can’t talk anymore, because my eyes are streaming, my nose is itching, and I’m bent over trying to contain another sneeze.

“This is not so good,” Carolina says.

“What is
wrong
with her?” Victoria asks, her voice going up several notches toward hysterical.

“Allergies,” Carolina guesses, whisking the box of flowers away from me. I take a deep breath and let out another explosive sneeze.

“She can
not
do that all through my wedding,” Victoria says.

I hope it has not escaped your attention, by the way, that the minute I got a date to Victoria’s wedding, disaster struck. Coincidence? I think not.

“We’ll fix it,” Carolina says. “Don’t panic, Victoria.”

I sneeze so hard I knock myself over.

“I’ll take her outside,” Leo says, looking concerned. He puts his hand gently on my elbow, tugs me to my feet, and leads me out through the manor to a secluded part of the garden.

“Wow,” I say, sinking down on a bench and pressing Kleenex to my face. “I bet I look really glamorous now.”

“You always look glamorous,” Leo says, sitting down next to me.

“My makeup must be running all over the place.”

“Psh,” he says. “You don’t need makeup.”

“This has never happened before,” I say. “I mean, at the other two weddings. I get allergies in the spring sometimes, but not like this.”

“It’s probably the hyacinths,” Leo says. “And bad news—they’re in the centerpieces, too.”

“Of course.” I lean my head on his shoulder, trying to breathe properly. He puts his arm around my waist and we sit like that for a moment. Suddenly he snaps his fingers.

“I know what we can do,” he says, jumping to his feet. “Don’t go near the bouquets, and I’ll be right back.”

He dashes down the path to the parking lot. I sit there for a minute, patting my face, but it makes me anxious not to be helping with wedding preparations, so I eventually get up and go back into the dressing room.

Victoria is standing in the center of the room with Mom and Alex pulling on her dress and buttoning it. The bouquets are nowhere to be seen, so I guess Carolina has taken them away somewhere. “Are you done sneezing?” Victoria snaps at me. “Oh my God, Mom,
look
at her face. She’s totally
ruined
her makeup.” As if this is a diabolical scheme I’ve been planning for months.

“Oh, sweetie,” Mom says with a sympathetic look.

“Wow, Jack, you’re kind of a mess,” Alex says.

“Thanks,” I say.

“Well, get dressed!” Victoria orders. “We have to be ready for pictures soon.”

I slip into my hideous flower sack as Sofia and Sydney pile in and put on their dresses, too. Our shoes are these grotesque pink sandals that match the color of the roses with green bows on the heels. Victoria was
so
excited when she found them.

“Yikes. What happened to you?” Sofia whispers.

I give her the short version, and she offers to fix my makeup as much as she can in the fifteen minutes before the photographer arrives. As terrible as I look, I must admit I’m grateful that we’re doing the photography before the wedding this time. Alex and Sydney both decided to have the photos taken during the cocktail hour at their weddings, which meant we basically
missed all the hors d’oeuvres and half the party, it felt like.

“Okay,” Victoria says. “Now, we have to hold our bouquets for the photos, so Jack, do you think you can contain yourself this time?”

“I’m not doing it on purpose,” I say.

“Just hold your breath or something,” Vicky says. “Come on, everyone.”

We follow her out to the gazebo, where Lucille and Kelly are already waiting for us. Carolina is there, too, holding the box of bouquets and looking concerned. As we get closer, I can already feel my eyes and nose reacting, and even my throat starts to close up a bit.

“Ruh-roh,” I whisper to Sofia, pulling out my Kleenex again.

Then suddenly, like a superhero sweeping in from the sky, Leo comes racing down from the parking lot. His arms are piled high with hyacinths, which is puzzling, to say the least. I’ve never heard of treating allergies with even MORE of the offending item.

“Here,” he says, gasping, as he reaches his
mom. “Replace them with these.” He takes one of the bouquets and carefully removes the hyacinths. With deft fingers, he shoves the stems of the new flowers into the ribbon instead. Then he rearranges it a little to look nice again and brings it over to me.

“What do you think?” he says. I take the bouquet and realize that the new flowers are not real—they’re made of silk. But from afar they look exactly the same as the old ones. I beam at him.

“You’re a superstar,” I say.

Victoria peers over my shoulder at the bouquet.

“Silk flowers?” she cries. “Isn’t that kind of tacky? I want only
real
flowers at my wedding!”

“Victoria,” Carolina says firmly, “either you accept the silk flowers, or Jack won’t be able to breathe for your entire wedding.”

Vicky actually hesitates, and I get the strong impression that my personal suffering is not being included in this particular calculation.

“Vicky, you can’t even tell they’re silk,” Sofia
says. “And this means they won’t wilt. And they’re really pretty.”

“I suppose,” Vicky relents. “But hurry, we need to do the pictures.”

Carolina and Leo work fast, switching out the flowers in all the bouquets and handing them to each of us. There are a truckload of bridesmaids here, but they finish quickly. Then they run off to change out the flowers in the centerpieces too.

Leo catches my hand before he goes. “See?” he whispers, pulling me to the side. “Disaster averted. Maybe we beat the curse, huh?”

I can’t help but smile. “That was pretty amazing,” I admit.

“So you’ll forgive me for being your surprise date?” he says, his green eyes sparkling.

“After this?” I say. “I’d forgive you for being my surprise serial killer.”

He grins, glances over at the flurry of bridesmaids who are paying no attention to us, and then kisses me quickly on the lips. I can still feel the warmth of his mouth and the feel of his
hand in mine as I watch him run off after Carolina.

The ceremony is a little bit painful, especially in those shoes, which Victoria absolutely forbade us to break in because she wanted them to look perfectly perfect, so none of us have even worn them before. We stand there, trying not to fidget, as the minister drones on for a whole HOUR, interspersed with Victoria’s friends reading Shakespeare sonnets and epic medieval poetry and goodness knows what else they’re going on about, except that it seems to involve the words “thee” and “thou” a lot.

It’s an enormous relief to get to the cocktail hour, and it doesn’t hurt that Leo is there waiting for me, looking shockingly gorgeous in a dark gray suit and a lavender silk tie.

“Hey,” I say, feeling weirdly shy all of a sudden. How am I supposed to act with a guy Victoria set me up with, but whom I would happily date in
any
other situation but this one?

“You look…really great.”

“Thanks,” he says, sounding genuinely pleased. “You look great, too.”

This makes me laugh, which breaks the tension. “You big liar,” I say, shoving him. “No one could possibly look great in this dress—not even Sydney, my super-fit sister, or Sofia, my super-beautiful sister.”