Something Blue - Emily Giffin [27]
"I guess so," he said reluctantly.
I chose to ignore his tone and pressed on. "Okay—so when do you think we should do it?"
"I don't know. In six months?"
"When I'm totally showing? No, thanks."
"Five months?"
"Marcus!"
"Four?"
"No. Too long. I think we should do it right away. Or as soon as we can get some plans together."
"I thought you said that we were going to just get a justice of the peace?"
I had, in fact, said something like that somewhere along the line. But that was back when I actually worried about Dexter's feelings. Back when I wasn't even sure that Marcus and I were going to end up together. Now I wanted to have a big wedding just to spite Dex and Rachel and invite all of our mutual friends. I'd invite Rachel's parents too, and then they could report back to her how beautiful I looked, how thrilled I was in my new relationship, how moving Claire's toast was.
"Well, I was actually thinking that we could have a little ceremony. Just something small. Like fifty people or so." My count was more like one hundred, one twenty-five, but I would ease him into the idea.
"Fifty, huh? So pretty much immediate family?" he asked as he scratched the back of his neck.
"Yeah, pretty much. And our closest friends."
He smirked. "Like Dex and Rachel?"
I gave him a look.
"No?" he asked, grinning. "Not Dex and Rachel?" "Be serious! What do you think about having a real wedding?" He shrugged and then said, "I'm not sure about all that. That's not really my thing. I'm still kind of thinking that the justice of the peace is the way to go. Or we could elope. I don't know. Do we have to talk about this right now?"
"Okay, fine." I sighed, resigning myself to the fact that he probably wasn't going to be satisfying about a wedding. But what guy really is? Other than those repulsive, girly types on TLC's A Wedding Story who blubber their way through the ceremony. And who wants a guy like that?
Later that evening, after Marcus and I came back from dinner, I checked my messages. I had twenty-two at work, fourteen at home. Thirty-six messages in eight hours. And only two were work related. Which meant thirty-four personal messages. Likely an all-time personal record. I sat at Marcus's table, listening to the words of support as I took notes on a pad. When I got to the very last message, the third one from Claire, I looked up at Marcus. "They didn't call," I said, shocked. "Neither one of them."
"Did you think they would?" Marcus asked.
"Yes. They owe me a call. Especially Rachel."
"But didn't you say that you never wanted to speak to her again?"
I shot him a look of annoyance. "She should still try to call and apologize…"
Marcus shrugged.
"And as for Dex, I have to talk to him. About logistics. The wedding stuff," I said. "I just can't believe neither one of them called."
Marcus shrugged again. "I don't know what to tell you."
"Okay. For the record, I abhor that statement."
"What statement?"
" 'I don't know what to tell you.' "
"Well, I don't know what to tell you."
" 'I don't know what to tell you,' " I mimicked again. "It's what repairmen say when they can't fix what's broken. 'But I just bought this car/computer/dryer last month!' you say, at their mercy, and they shoot back with an 'I don't know what to tell you.' Translation: 'It's not my problem and I really don't give a shit.'"
Marcus smiled. "Sorry. I won't say it again."
"Thank you," I said, still clutching the phone. "So do you think I should call Dex?"
"Do you want to call him?" Marcus asked as he inspected the bottom of his foot and picked at a callus.
"It's not a question of want. It's a question of need. We have logistics to work out," I said, slapping his hand