Meg Cabot - Queen of Babble Gets Hitched

LIZZIE NICHOLS DESIGNS ™

Marriage is the mother of the world and preserves kingdoms, and fills cities, and churches, and heaven itself.

Jeremy Taylor (1613–1667), English clergyman

I am in a state of such advanced shock when I emerge from the Geck’s limo shortly before midnight that I don’t notice at first that the hall lights are on in the Henris’ building when I stumble through the door. I didn’t leave them on when I left, because I was in so much panic about my drawings—some of which were still only half-finished—I completely forgot.

But they’re on now. Who could have switched them on? Not a burglar, surely. Why would he want to announce his presence to the world?

Could it be Chaz? He has a key, of course.

But Chaz would never let himself in knowing I’m not there. Especially when I’d made it very clear I’d call him when I was ready to see him. He just isn’t the let-himself-in-unannounced type.

And while Sylvia and Marisol have been known to work late, they’ve never worked this late—and they don’t answer when I call out toward the workroom.

Great. This is the one disadvantage of living alone. The part where I could at any time be murdered, and no one in the building can hear my screams. Because I’m the only one in my building.

Gripping my keys so that each one protrudes from between a knuckle, my hand now resembling Wolverine’s from X-Men, I start up the stairs, my body tense as I strain to hear any heavy breathing or scraping of Freddy Krueger—like claws that will give away whoever is waiting to strangle me on the top floor.

But I hear nothing. The hallway is silent. Maybe I’m imagining things. Maybe, in the excitement of the evening, I did flick on the lights before I left.

I’ve almost convinced myself of this as I unlock the front door to my apartment, throw it open, and find a strange man standing beside my living room couch.

I let out a scream loud enough to wake the dead.

“Jesus,” Luke cries, laughing. “Lizzie! It’s me!”

It is. It’s Luke. Luke—my fiancé. Who is supposed to be in Paris, France.

Only he’s not in Paris, France. He is standing in my living room.

“Surprise!” he cries.

Oh, I’m surprised, all right. I’m very, very surprised.

Just not as surprised as Luke might have been, had I not come home alone. And it’s mere luck that I didn’t.

“What are you doing here?” I can’t help bursting out.

“I felt so awful about everything you were going through,” Luke says, coming toward me. “I heard Uncle Gerald had booked a private charter to the city for a meeting, so I grabbed a seat on it.”

He looks so handsome in his cream-colored linen suit, with his pale blue tie, and his dark tan and flashing white teeth. It’s almost as if he were another species from Chaz.

But not a species I care to know. Anymore.

I can’t help taking a quick step backward as Luke approaches me.

“Wow,” I say. “A private charter! How… luxurious!”

“Yeah,” Luke says, taking another step toward me. “I got here in six hours. Total travel time. From France! Can you believe it?”

“That’s amazing.” I take another step backward. If this keeps up, soon I’ll be in the hallway again.

“I know,” Luke says with another of his dazzling smiles. “Isn’t it?”

Luke takes another step forward, and I’m trapped with my back against the door. He twines an arm around my waist and leans down to kiss me. I have to use every ounce of self-restraint in my power to keep from jerking my face away from his.

And then his lips are on mine—those lips I used to love so much—and he’s kissing me hello.

And I feel… nothing.

Nothing! How can I feel nothing? I used to adore this man! I made love on a wine cask to this man! I wanted nothing on earth but to marry this man and have his babies and be with him for the rest of my life.

But I guess there’s more to a relationship than making love on wine casks. Like making the other person laugh until milk comes out of her nose.

And being there for her when she really, really needs you.

I guess that’s how, after not having seen him for nearly a month, when Luke kisses me, I’m capable of feeling nothing.

Luke lifts his head and looks down at me through half-lidded eyes—those eyes I’ve always found so dreamy, with those impossibly long, dark lashes.

“Is everything all right?” he wants to know.

“Sure!” I cry. “Everything’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know,” Luke says. “You just seem… nervous about something.”

“Oh,” I say, laughing like a hyena. I’m aware that his hands are on my hips. My hips that are unadorned by Spanx. I think this is the first time ever. Since last summer, anyway. I mean, that he’s touched my un-Spanxed hips and I haven’t been naked in bed. Lying down in a prone position. “I am. I just came from a meeting with the Gecks.”

“The who?” Luke looks confused.

“The Gecks. You know, Get it at Geck’s?”

“Oh,” Luke says. But I can tell he has no idea what I’m talking about. “And how did that go?”

“It went great,” I say. I can still hardly believe it. Suddenly my nervousness is forgotten in my excitement over recounting my incredible evening. “Luke, you don’t even know… your idea—offering brides beautiful dresses at prices they can afford—it was brilliant. A brilliant idea. Ava Geck and I—her whole family and I, as a matter of fact—we’re going into business together. My designs, their business savvy. We’re going to give brides across America beautiful, nice dresses that they can afford. Not just brides, either. Bridesmaids, mothers of the bride, flower girls, dogs—it’s going to be huge.”

Luke laughs—mostly at my enthusiasm, I think. It’s pretty clear he has no idea what I’m talking about. I don’t think he’s ever even heard of Geck’s. Well, his family probably never shopped there in their lives. Maybe his mom sent their housekeeper there to buy cleaning supplies.

But, ever the loyal fiancé, he acts like he knows what I’m talking about.

“Lizzie,” he says. “That’s great! I’m so proud of you!”

“Thanks,” I say. “This all just happened. Just now. I… I’m still a little shell-shocked, I guess. It’s exactly what I’ve always wanted, Luke. It’s going to solve everything. Mr. Geck made me an offer—you can’t even believe how much.”

“Well, that’s even better,” Luke says, grinning more broadly. “We can both fly back to Paris in style, then!”

I stare at him. And realize I need to sit down. Fast.

Oh God. How can I do this? I can’t—I can’t do this. I’m not a Bad Girl. I’m not!

And yet, for the past week, that’s exactly what I’ve been acting like. Maybe—deep down—I am a Bad Girl.

Either way, it’s time to pay the price for my actions.

“Yeah,” I say, heading for the couch, where I sink down before my knees can buckle beneath me. “Listen. About that.”

“Uh-oh,” Luke says. The grin has vanished. “I don’t think I like the tone of your voice right now, Lizzie. Should I be scared? Because suddenly I’m scared.”

I look up at him—his gorgeous, perfect face. I can’t help shaking my head.

“Luke,” I say, in a Who are we kidding with this? voice. “Come on.”

He spreads out both his hands in a What, me? gesture. “What?”

“Seriously,” I say. “Get real with me. For once. I know you’re Mr. Nice Guy and everything. But was that not the worst kiss ever?”

He drops his hands.

And suddenly he drops the pretense as well.

And I realize I may not have to pay anything at all.