Wendy Markham - Slightly Married

No danger of that. Will never was the marrying type. He told me that right from the start. I just chose not to hear him. I didn’t stick my fingers into my ears and sing “Love and Marriage” at the top of my lungs whenever he opened his mouth, but I might as well have.

If Jack had told me from the start that he wasn’t the marrying type, I wouldn’t have believed him, either…but not because I was delusional. I’ve just never had any real doubt that Jack loved me and would marry me sooner or later.

Okay, I may have had some doubt.

And all right, at one point, I may have suspected him of having a secret girlfriend in Brooklyn to whom he was planning to give the ring.

But like I said, that’s all behind me now.

The diamond is on my finger. Mine.

I’m a fiancée, tra la!

Amazing what a difference a day makes.

You know, if I thought there was any chance I’d find my mother at home right now, I’d call her and tell her my news if for no other reason than to ease her worries about my eternal salvation.

But a glance at the clock ensures me that my parents are currently at their regular Sunday-morning mass at Most Precious Mother. My mother is probably praying for me and my sins at this very moment. I know she does that every week because she likes to keep me apprised of her religious intentions.

The sooner I tell my mother the news, the sooner she can resume praying for something more relevant, like world peace, or a price break in imported almond paste.

Last night, I suggested to Jack that we try to get a cheap Jet Blue flight to Buffalo for next weekend, and he agreed.

What I strategically neglected to tell him is that while we’re up there, we can also find a caterer, talk to the priest, choose a band or DJ and start the paperwork with the florist, videographer and photographer.

Over the next few days, I’m positive Jack will come to realize that we should absolutely get married in Brookside, in which case firming up our plans while we’re there will be an added bonus of the trip.

I pour my coffee, grab a notepad and sit down on the couch to get the basics on paper.

Fortunately, I’m really good at organizing details.

Or maybe a better way to put it is, A control freak.

Whatever. The important thing is to approach this wedding with a cohesive plan of action.

That’s why I immediately decide to use a technique I learned back in junior high when I started writing for the school paper. As I recall, the key to researching a solid article is answering the five W’s: Who, What, When, Where and Why.

Can the same formula be applied to a wedding plan?

Why, I believe it can.

In this case, Who would be the guest list.

Oh, and the bridal party—though I’ve already picked out my eight attendants. Yes, eight. You don’t expect me to leave anyone out after the way they’ve all stood by me, do you?

My sister, Mary Beth, will be my matron of honor, of course. Then there’s my sister-in-law, Sara; Jack’s sister Rachel, and my friends Raphael, Kate, Brenda, Latisha and Yvonne. I’ve even matched them up with the guys Jack will be having. Not that he’s ever said who his groomsmen would be, but I have a good idea. So I jot down their names on the list, opposite each of my bridesmaids—or bridesman, as the case may be.

I’m careful not to match up Raphael with any of my homophobic brothers or Jack’s old frat brother, Jeff, whom Raphael once insisted is a closeted gay man. I shudder, remembering how he attempted to give Jeff a lap dance in an effort to prove the point.

I strategically link Raphael with Buckley, who is as comfortable with his sexuality as he is with Raphael’s. The only possible hitch would be if Jack protested to having Buckley as an usher, but I doubt he will. Buckley might have started out as my friend, but now he’s a pal of Jack’s, too. We hang out together a lot as couples.

Not that I’ve got any intention of having Buckley’s fiancée as one of my bridesmaids. It isn’t that I dislike Sonja, or that I’m jealous, which would be so My Best Friend’s Wedding.

Really, my relationship with Buckley is strictly platonic and always has been.

Except that we kissed a few times. Passionately. But that was over two years ago.

And yes, I may have, on occasion, wondered if Buckley and I were falling in love.

But that speculation ended the moment Jack came along.

Okay, maybe not the moment.

But definitely within a few weeks.

Naturally, I ended it because of Jack.

Naturally, Jack will never know that I had an unplatonic era with Buckley while I was embarking on a relationship with him. Presumably, Sonja is equally clueless.

And I like her. I really do. There might just be a part of her that’s secretly, instinctively jealous of my entirely platonic-these days friendship with her fiancé. Or maybe on some subconscious level she suspects that there might have been something between us at one time.

Whatever it is seems to keep Sonja from ever entirely opening up to me—not that I want her to, because then I’d have to.

I’ll admit it: there might be a teensy part of me that wonders if Buckley and I might have wound up together if the timing had been different. If Jack hadn’t come along just as Buckley and I were starting to notice each other in a different way.

None of that matters now.

Because we’re both in love with other people.

We’re both about to get married.

And what happened between us wasn’t exactly unresolved.

Not really.

Faced with the choice between Buckley and Jack, I chose Jack. Buckley handled it just fine, and went back to Sonja shortly afterward anyway.

In any case, that’s all ancient history. And I’m sure Jack will want Buckley to be in our wedding party, as long as he doesn’t find out that we kissed.

More about that later. Now is not the time to be dwelling on past loves. Not that Buckley was ever my “love…”

Oh, let’s drop it.

Next on the list is What. This one will have to wait for Jack, but I do make some notes. Afternoon or evening reception? Sit-down dinner or buffet? Black-tie optional or out of the question?

When? I can answer that right now: the third Saturday in October, if at all possible. I’ve had my heart set on an autumn wedding since before I ever laid eyes on Jack, so as far as I’m concerned, the timing is nonnegotiable, provided we can find a place. The last time I checked, Shorewood Country Club in my hometown was available that particular day, but that was a few months ago. I’m sure it’s since been booked.

Which leads me to…

Where? I write Brookside and underline it three times. Then, in case Jack wants to read my notes, I add an obligatory question mark. Then, to be fair, I put down NYC and, of course, follow it with a question mark. A few of them, actually, to reflect my imaginary doubts about that particular locale.

And now we’ve arrived at…

Why?

What the hell kind of question is that?

Since I’m asking myself, I guess I can’t complain.

Okay, so why are Jack and I getting married?

The answer is obvious: because we love each other. Because we want to spend the rest of our lives together.

Nothing else really matters, I remind myself with a guilty glance at the pad in my hand.

Not who, what, when or where.

Nothing but the why.

The phone rings as I’m contemplating that profoundness.

I grab it, and it’s Kate, of course.

“Where have you been?” I ask, glancing at the clock.

Good thing I wasn’t bleeding to death and calling on her to save my life.

Not that I ever would, because she’s not good with blood, or heroics. She’s the kind of person who runs screaming from the room if there’s an insect, loud noise or the slightest hint of gore….