Queen of Babble Gets Hitched

Because that’s what New York City is all about. Trees growing up out of the pavement, in the shade, where no tree should ever grow.

And I say, “I love New York.”

“You’ll love Paris too,” Luke says. “You’ve been there, remember? It’s just like New York. Only better. Cleaner. Nicer.”

“It’s so far away,” I say as a kid walking by with a dog fails to clean up after it, and a woman with a Chanel purse yells at him for it.

“From what, Lizzie?” Luke asks. “Your grandmother? She’s dead. Remember?” But Gran isn’t who I’m thinking about.

“I can’t decide right now,” I say. “I… I’ll have to think about it.”

“You do that,” Luke says. “You think about it. You take all the time you need. But I think you should probably know… I’ve accepted the job my uncle offered me.”

“What?” I think I must have misheard him again.

“We’ll figure something out,” Luke says hurriedly. “If you decide to stay in New York, we’ll just do the long-distance thing for a while. People do, Lizzie. We’ll make it work. Don’t worry.”

Don’t worry? My fiancé—on whom, it is true, I am cheating—informs me that he is going to move permanently to another country, but that I shouldn’t worry?

“And if you need a place to stay, you know you can always move back into my mother’s place on Fifth. She already said it was all right. She’ll just need to use the place one weekend a month, for her—you know… ”

He means her monthly Botox injections. But I don’t say that out loud, since Luke doesn’t need me to remind him about that.

I am standing there, openmouthed in astonishment, when a voice behind me says, “Hey.”

I spin around, startled, and see a flash of khaki and the brim of a baseball cap.

“Luke,” I say into the phone. “I have to go. I… I’ll call you later, all right?”

“Okay,” he says. “Honestly, Lizzie… I don’t want you to worry. About any of this. I’m going to take care of it. Of you. I love you.”

“I… y-you too,” I stammer. And hang up. Then I demand, “What are you doing here?”

“Standing in front of Vera Wang’s flagship store?” Chaz quips. “Oh, I come here most days, actually. I like to try on a few of the mother-of-the-bride gowns. They feel so smooth and slinky against my skin.” He blinks down at me. “Shari called me. What do you think? And then I called the shop when you wouldn’t pick up any of my calls on your cell. Tiffany told me I might find you here. She says you like to come here to clear your head.” He looks at the display window. “I can see why. It’s so… shiny.”

I stare at the shop window too. But what I’m actually looking at is our reflection, him so tall and lanky, with his University of Michigan baseball cap perched on top of his head, and his strong, muscular legs, so ta

If that’s what we are. Which I’m not even sure of.

And of course behind our reflection is the beautiful, perfect Vera Wang wedding gown of the week. In a size two.

“They’re closing the shop,” I say to his reflection. “The Henris. They’re closing it. And moving to Provence.”

“I know. Tiffany told me that too.” He shrugs, looking infuriatingly unconcerned. “So. What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” I yell at him. “What do you think I’m standing here trying to figure out?”

God! How can I be in love with him? How can he be so different from Luke, whom I thought I loved for so long? I don’t want you to worry. About any of this. I’m going to take care of it. Of you. That’s what Luke had to say.

Whereas all Chaz has to say is: So. What are you going to do?

Then again, I’m the one who was so keen on wanting to stand on my own two feet.

“Well, you’ll figure it out,” Chaz says now, with another shrug. “I’m starving. Have you had lunch?”

Have I had lunch? That’s all he has to say?

“How?” I demand. “How will I figure it out?”

He looks a bit startled by my outburst. So does the Chinese-food deliveryman hurrying by.

“I don’t know,” Chaz says. “You’ll open a new shop.”

“Where? How? With what money?” I demand, my voice breaking. Because that’s what I’m pretty sure my heart is doing.

“Jesus, I don’t know, Lizzie. You’ll figure it out. You always do. That’s what’s so amazing about you.”

I turn my head and look up at him. Him, and not his reflection.

And I realize—as I’ve been realizing over and over all summer… all year, actually—how hard I’ve fallen for him.

This is really it, I realize. There’s no turning back. I think I’ve just gone up a notch on the Bad Girl Scale.

“Luke is dropping out of medical school,” I say. “He’s taking a job with his uncle’s company in Paris. He’s moving to Paris.”

“Gee,” Chaz says tonelessly. “I’m so surprised to hear that.”

I stare at him, appalled. “You knew? He told you already?”

He shrugs yet again. “He’s my best friend. He tells me everything. What do you expect?”

“You told me,” I say, shaking my head in disbelief. “You told me he’s never been able to stick to anything in his life. And I thought you were nuts. But you were right. You were a hundred percent right.”

“Luke’s not a bad guy,” Chaz says mildly. “He’s just… confused.”

“Well,” I say, slipping my cell phone back into my purse. “Are you going to ask me?”

“Ask you what?”

“If I’m going to move to Paris with him? He wants me to, you know. He says his family will loan me the money to set up a shop there.”

“I’m sure they will,” Chaz says. “And no, I’m not going to ask you.”

I set my jaw. For someone I’m so crazy about, Chaz happens to be the most infuriating person I’ve ever met.

“Why not?” I demand. “Don’t you want me to stay here in New York?”

“Of course I do,” Chaz says. “But, like I said, what happens in the future is already unavoidable. So I’m just going to enjoy what time I have left with you.”

“That,” I say disgustedly, “is such crap.”

“Well,” he says in the same unruffled tone, “that’s probably true too. What do you feel like? I feel like Thai food. Do you feel like Thai food? Isn’t there a good Thai place around the corner from here?”

“How can you think about food at a time like this?” I yell at him. “Do you know—do you have any earthly idea—that every time I think about marrying Luke, I break out in hives?”

Chaz raises his eyebrows. “That,” he says, “is not a good sign. I mean, for him. And, I’m guessing, for Paris.”

“It’s a horrible sign,” I say. “What did you mean back in Detroit when you said Luke hasn’t exactly been a Boy Scout the whole time he and I have been going out?”

Chaz rolls his eyes. “Look,” he says. “I don’t really want to talk about this in front of the Vera Wang flagship store, okay? Let’s go home. We can change out of these hot sticky clothes and I can run you a cool bath and order some Thai food and fix us both a couple of gin and tonics and we can sip them while we discuss the vagaries of life and I give you a full body massage—”

“No,” I say, resisting the arm he’s put around me. “Chaz! I’m serious. This is serious. I don’t want to—”

But I never get the chance to tell Chaz what it is I don’t want to do, because at that moment, two women who were passing by stop in front of the window and gaze at the gown I was admiring.

“See, Mom,” the younger woman says. “That’s the kind of dress I want.”

“Well, dream on,” her mother says. “Because a dress like that costs twenty grand. Do you have an extra twenty grand lying around?”

“It’s not fair,” the girl insists, stamping her Steve Madden—clad foot. “Why can’t I have what I want? Just this once?”

“You can,” the older woman says, “if you want to be paying for it for the next thirty years. Is that how you want to start your married life?”