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“What’s a hurricane vase? And how the hell does Jere know what one is?”
“I didn’t mean Jere and I decided, I meant me and Taylor.” She grabbed the cart and walked ahead of me. I followed her to aisle twelve.
“See?” Belly held up a fat glass vase.
I crossed my arms. “Very nice,” I said in a bored voice.
She put down the vase and picked up a ski
“It’s not—that lame,” I said. I started grabbing vases off the shelf. “How many do we need?”
“Wait! Should we get the big ones or the medium ones? I’m thinking maybe the medium ones,” she said, lifting one up and checking the price tag. “Yeah, definitely the medium ones. I only see a few left. Can you go ask somebody who works here?”
“The big ones,” I said, because I’d already stacked four of the big ones in the cart. “The big ones are much nicer. You can fit more flowers or sand or whatever.”
Belly narrowed her eyes. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want to go find somebody.”
“Okay, yeah, but seriously, I think the big ones are nicer.”
She shrugged and put another big vase in the cart.
“I guess we could just have one big vase on each table instead of two medium-size ones.”
“Now what?” I started to push the cart again, and she took it from me.
“Candles.”
I followed her down another aisle, then another. “I don’t think you know where you’re going,” I said.
“I’m taking you on the scenic route,” she said, steering the cart. “Look at all these fake flowers and garlands.
Good stuff.”
I stopped. “Should we get some? They might look good on the porch.” I grabbed a bunch of sunflowers and added a few white roses to the bunch. “This looks kind of nice, right?”
“I was kidding,” she said, sucking in her cheeks. I could tell she was trying not to smile. “But yeah, that looks all right. Not great, but all right.”
I put the flowers back. “All right, I give up. From now on, I’ll just do the heavy lifting.”
“Nice effort, though.”
Back at the house, Jeremiah’s car was in the driveway.
“Jere and I can unload all of this later,” I said, turning off the ignition.
“I’ll help,” she offered, hopping out of the car. “I’m just go
I grabbed a couple of the heavier bags and followed her up the steps and into the house. Jeremiah was lying on the couch watching TV. When he saw us, he sat up.
“Where have you guys been?” he asked. He said it casually, but his eyes flickered at me as he spoke.
“At Michaels,” Belly said. “What time did you get here?”
“A little while ago. Why didn’t you wait for me? I told you I’d be here in time.” Jeremiah got up and crossed the room. He pulled Belly toward him for a hug.
“I told you, Michaels closes at nine. I doubt you would have made it in time,” she said, and she sounded pissed, but she let him kiss her.
I turned away. “I’m go
“Wait, I’ll help.” Jeremiah released Belly and slapped his hand on my back. “Con, thanks for pinch-hitting for me today.”
“No, problem.”
“It’s after eight,” Belly said. “I’m starving. Let’s all go to Jimmy’s for di
I shook my head. “Nah, I’m not hungry. You guys go.”
“But you didn’t have any di
“Just come with us.”
“No thanks,” I said.
She started to protest again, but Jere said, “Bells, he doesn’t want to. Let’s just go.”
“Are you sure?” she asked me.
“I’m good,” I said, and it came out harsher than I meant it.
I guessed it worked though, because they left.
Chapter Thirty-four
At Jimmy’s, neither of us ordered crabs. I got fried scallops and iced tea, and Jeremiah got a lobster roll and beer. The server asked for his ID and smirked when he saw it, but he still served him a beer.
I shook a few sugar packets into my iced tea, tasted it, then added two more.
“I’m wiped,” Jeremiah said, leaning back into the booth and closing his eyes.
“Well, wake up. We have work to do.”
He opened his eyes. “Like what?”
“What do you mean, like what? Tons of stuff. At David’s Bridal they were asking me all these questions.
Like, what’s our color palette? And are you going to wear a suit or a tuxedo?”
Jeremiah snorted. “A tuxedo? On the beach? I probably won’t even wear shoes.”
“Well, yeah, I know, but you should probably figure out what you’re going to wear.”
“I don’t know. You tell me. I’ll wear whatever you and Taylor want me to wear. It’s your guys’s day, right?”
“Ha ha,” I said. “Very fu
Through a mouthful of food, he said, “I was thinking white shirts and khaki shorts. Nice and simple, like we said.”
“Okay.”
Jeremiah gulped his beer. “Hey, can we dance to “You Never Can Tell” at the reception?”
“I don’t know that song,” I said.
“Sure you do. It’s from my favorite movie. Hint: we had the soundtrack on repeat in our frat house media room all semester.” When I still stared at him blankly, Jeremiah sang, “It was a teenage wedding and the old folks wished them well.”
“Oh, yeah. Pulp Fiction.”
“So can we?”
“Are you serious?”
“Come on, Bells. Be a sport. We can put it on YouTube.
I bet we’ll get a shit ton of hits. It’ll be fu
I gave him a look. “Fu
“Come on. You’re making all the decisions, and all I want is this one thing,” he said, pouting, and I couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. Either way, it pissed me off.
Plus, I was still pissed he hadn’t made it in time to help me at Michaels.
The server came by with our food, and Jeremiah dug right in to his lobster roll.
“What other decisions have I made?” I asked him.
“You decided that the cake was going to be carrot,”
he reminded me, mayo
“I don’t want to be the one making all the decisions!
I don’t even know what I’m doing.”
“Then I’ll help more. Just tell me what to do. Hey, I’ve got an idea. What if the wedding was Tarantino themed?”
he said.
“Yeah, what if,” I said sourly. I stabbed a scallop with my fork.
“You could be the Bride like in Kill Bill.” He looked up from his plate. “Kidding, kidding. But this whole thing is still go
“Yeah, but people still need to, like, eat.”
“Don’t worry about the food and stuff. My dad will hire somebody to take care of all that.”
I could feel irritation start to prickle beneath my skin like a heat rash. I let out a short breath. “It’s easy for you to say don’t worry. You’re not the one pla
Jeremiah put down his sandwich and sat up straight.
“I told you I’d help. And like I said, my dad will take care of a lot of it.”
“I don’t want him to,” I said. “I want us to do it together. And joking about Quent Tarantino movies doesn’t really count as helping.”
“It’s Quent in,” Jeremiah corrected.
I shot him a dirty look.
“I wasn’t joking about the first dance,” he said. “I still think it would be cool. And Bells, I have been doing stuff.
I figured out what to do for music. My buddy Pete dee-jays on the weekends. He said he’d bring his speakers and just hook up his iPod and take care of the whole thing.
He already has the Pulp Fiction soundtrack, by the way.”
Jeremiah raised his eyebrows at me comically. I knew he was waiting for a laugh or at least a smile. And I was about to give in, just so this fight could be over and I could eat my scallops without feeling angry, when he said i