The Alphabet Wedding (Alpha #1.5) (3 page)

You know to worry when you make the bed and uncover a copy of Brides Magazine under the mattress at your fiances side. Not Playboy. Gabe has a secret Bridal Magazine. I flicked through it. There were no clues. No folded over pages. Just a corner of the magazine missing from the back page.

Seeing Gabe so enthusiastic about this project has shown me that it's time to get him back to work after the wedding. We both took time off after what happened. Decided to live off the inheritance Gabe was left from his father. With everything that took place we just wanted to make the most of being together. So aware that time is short. We wanted to spend as much time as possible with Athena. Gabe needs a role again now. I wonder if he'll go back into Law?

I head into the study and pick up the phone and dial Maddie. We spend a few minutes in general chit chat and then I ask her my burning question.

'Has he been in touch with you yet? About the wedding?'

'No.'

'Not even to ask you about the venue?'

'Not even to ask me if I'm still alive Stella.'

I sigh. Maddie had put in an immediate hold on The Plaza as soon as we had a date.

'I've been thinking anyway.' There's a pause.

'Yeah?'

'I realise I was just considering the wedding from my own selfish point of view. I really can't see you at home at a huge wedding venue. I gave up the deposit on The Plaza. I think we should see what Gabriel comes up with for a venue.'

I exhale in relief. I never wanted to be the focus of American Society attention.

'Thank you Maddie.'

'I'm sorry.'

'No. Don't be sorry. It's not your fault you've got the least Princessy daughter-in-law to be. You should have got Ronnie. She'll want the full Kate Middleton.

'The most important thing is I have you. You and Athena. You are everything I could have hoped for in a future daughter-in-law Stella. Where you get married doesn't bother me.'

'Thank you Maddie. I feel the same about you.' I bite my top lip. 'Anyway, just in case do you think you could do me a favour?'

I go on to ask her to do something for me. A safety net for in case the smug git fucks up.

I walk back out into the room and now Gabe is still dancing to
I'm Too Sexy
, but now he has a little bopping Athena at his side. Her little nappied bum shakes from side to side. I'm so in love with this scene playing out in front of me. I go and join them.

'I just spoke to your mum about the wedding venue.'

He places a finger over my mouth. 'Sssh. I have everything in hand. Just leave it all to me, my Bride.'

We carry on dancing.

CHAPTER THREE - F TO K

F is for Father of the Bride

Houston (or rather New York), we have a problem. Who is going to give Stella away? Her father is deceased and she has a very strained relationship with her stepfather. I really can't see her wanting Mitch by her side. I try and think of male significant others in my fiancees life. There aren't any.

I decide there is only one person who may be able to fulfil this role and I set off to his house to ask him. I call to pre-warn his father.

My little brother Samuel Lucas answers the door. It's been a tough couple of years for the handsome little fella (who by the way looks just like his older brother, ahem me). He lost his precious mother to drugs and we will never know if this was an accidental overdose or our father's doing. We decided to tell him about his real father. It wasn't easy, but Chris and myself wanted him to know he had two big brothers who were ready to step up for him at any time. His adoptive father Mike is also a top bloke.

'Gabe.' He flings his arms around me.

'You gonna let me in then bro?'

I shake hands with Mike and agree to a coffee. Then I go through to their lounge, pushing Lego further up the sofa so there's room to sit down.

'Right. I have a question to ask you Sam.'

Sam stands stock still. 'Oh-kay. You're not giving me a sex talk are you, cos Aunt Ronnie has already covered all that with me.'

Mike hands me my drink and shakes his head. 'Don't ask. She's his go-to girl for all things embarrassing. It saves me the shame.'

'Like anything about Ronnie surprises me.' I turn to Sam. 'No fella. Not sex talk. I wondered if you would give Aunt Stella away at our wedding?'

His forehead creases, 'Oh yeah, she hasn't got a Dad has she?'

'Nope.'

'Will I get a suit?'

Oh fuck something else to add to the list.

'
You sure will and we're all going to dress like James Bond. All three of us brothers.'

He pulls his arm down triumphant.'Yeaaah. You hear that Dad? I'm going to give Stella away.'

'I heard son.'

'There's just one thing Sam. I know it's difficult but you have to keep it secret.'

'My Dad says it's bad to keep secrets and I have to tell him everything.'

'Well your Dad knows doesn't he? But I don't want your Aunt Stella to know. I want her to be surprised when you turn up in your sharp suit, ready to walk her down the aisle.'

'Where are you two getting married anyway?'asks Mike.

'The Plaza. My mother's sorted it.'

'The Plaza? Get you two. No simple wedding then?'

'I think Stella would have preferred it, but my Mother booked it the minute we had a date.'

'Well I hope everything you're organising is lavish then, to match your surroundings.'

As Sam runs off back to his Xbox, I fill Mike in on the details so far.

'Wow. It sounds like you do actually have this Gabe. I'm amazed.'

'I said it'd be easy. I don't know why they go all Bridezilla, there's nothing to it.'

'You got a notebook or something then? To keep track?'

'Not necessary. I've only needed to scribble a few things on a little bit of paper.'

'Take my hat off to you Gabe.'

I grin. Then I remember that I didn't empty my pockets before I put my pants in the wash. What was on that list again? It wasn't much. Meringue cake. That was it. Ice sculpture. No problem. I've done to F already. The dress is sorted. Venue sorted. Best man and Father of Bride done. Car organised. Band in progress. I don't think there's much left to do to be honest. I'll think of something for every letter though. We are having The Alphabet Wedding and the Alpha is organising.

I get back in my car, stick on Van Halen's
Jump
and headbang and sing all the way back. I'm totally rocking this.

G is for Guests

I'm at my Mother's. We're in her kitchen where she has insisted on making me a sandwich, despite the fact I told her I'd grab some lunch later.

'Mother. Can you let me have your invite list for the wedding, with peoples addresses?'

She wipes her hands on a cloth and pushes the sandwich towards me.

'Oh I've decided not to interfere darling. You invite who you like. It's yours and Stella's wedding. She just wants it small doesn't she?'

What? My mother's booked The Plaza. It's huge. It's going to look a bit dumb with only a handful of people in it.

'No, Mom. Seriously let me have the list. It'll be fine.'

'No Gabriel. You need to keep it small.'

'But what about The Plaza?'

'They understand. Arrangements change.'

'They do?'

'Of course. It's The Plaza.'

'So just a few guests?'

'I think that's best. When I last chatted to Stella, she sounded delighted about a small gathering.'

'Right. Thanks Mom. I'd better get a list together.'

I sit with the small notebook I now have. It's in my pocket at all times and annoys me, but at least I won't wash this one.

Guest list:

Stella.

Athena.

Mother.

Chris.

Sam.

Mike (plus one as he's been seeing a friend of Ronnie's.)

ABC - Reception only. They might stay for some food (fingers crossed).

Fran and Mitch.

Ronnie plus one, for in case her and Col make up.

Wow. That's one small list.

I've had an email back confirming ABC are available.

Holy fucking crap!

I email the Organiser back and let him know the venue. I agree that we'll sort out air fare etc in due course. I write it on my To-do list at the back of my notebook. See how organised I am? Yeah, general notes at the front. To-do list at the rear.

Current To-do list:

• Meringue cake.
  
• Ice sculpture.
  
• ABC air fare.
  

Just noticed those initials spell MIA. Just like my dear fiancee with these arrangements. Luckily for her I am used to building complicated law arguments so this wedding stuff is childs play.

H is for Hen Night

Well I've had a lovely refreshing break from Wedding Planning as it was going so well. It's now October and I'm back with the programme (also known as Stella asked me how it was going and I realised I hadn't done anything for four months).

I've decided to move on from a pocket notebook. Largely because I've misplaced it. I have a feeling Athena may have used it to scribble in. I now have a lovely spreadsheet. This has reminded me of what I haven't been using the last year or so. My business brain. Time to take it for a workout.

I'm up to the letter H and in this instance it's H for Hen Night. Now as you know, in the USA we call them Bachelorette parties, but my bride to be is English and so she is a Hen. I've taken to conversing with Ronnie by email now as she's never at home, (goodness knows what the woman is up to now). I've checked Athena's clothes size and asked Ronnie to bring her a dress that matches her own. I've been suitably informed via Email that British hen parties now take up the best part of a weekend and consist of lots of drinking with an appearance by a male stripper.

I've had a bit of a problem with the last one. I told Ronnie firmly that Stella couldn't have one. She replied that it was a bit of fun and if I didn't arrange it, she would. So now, currently, on my screen I have two stripper profiles. One is in my opinion what women would want in a stripper. A golden Adonis with oiled muscles. The other looks more like one of Snow White's Dwarves. He's muscly, but pasty white and about four foot tall with the weirdest sticky out eyeballs. I know I'm being pathetic. Jealous and pathetic. I just have a hard time imagining my fiancee gyrating on the Adonis' lap (and not that kind of hard at all). I am visualising turning up and throat punching the stripper. I even wondered about
being
the Stripper. Except I don't want molesting by a group of drunken women, one of whom will probably be my own mother.

So I bite the bullet and cursor down the screen for the email address.

'Dadadadadadadadada.'

'Hello Princess. Have you come to help Daddy? Watch those keys. Just let me write down this number.'

'Dadadadadadadadadda.'

'Okay. Does Athena want to watch a DVD?'

'Dadadadadadadadadada.'

I've phoned the stripper. His name's Steve. I've booked him and so now I need a venue. As advised in an online article, I'm arranging the Hen Night for two nights before the wedding. Thus hangovers on the morning of the wedding can be avoided. I've told Chris to come round to ours for a beer. I can't be bothered with any Bachelor Party shenanigans. We'll just look after Athena.

I add details to the spreadsheet. Bachelorette and Bachelor parties twenty-second of December. Next task, internet searching for a evening venue and a spa.

Jesus! The prices. It's only a bit of steam and someone rubbing some oil in. Four hundred dollars each. I need to book for Stella, Ronnie, my mother, and Nina (Mike's girlfriend). I make the arrangements. They all get a massage, facial, manicure, pedicure, shampoo and blow dry, and lunch, with champagne and chocolates. I have no idea what half this crap is, but that's what it says on the website. Why is having your hair dried with a hair dryer called a Blow Dry? At these prices I think the Employees should actually use their own breath. Some blokes wouldn't pay that for a blow job.

Now for the Restaurant and subsequent alcohol bingeing. I type in Bachelorette Restaurants into the Search Engine and the first thing it brings up is a Restaurant called Lips. Complete with drag act. That should be a great evenings entertainment for them all. A good laugh. I make four reservations. They are fine with the stripper arriving as long as its not during the show, so I time it for the beginning of the meal and let Steve know.

I get an email from Ronnie later that evening, congratulating me on the choice of venue. She also approves of the stripper. She says she's arranging the ladies a little surprise. I'm now in full panic mode, because Ronnie does not know the meaning of small. She is also bringing over a fake bridal veil and some L plates, as apparently it's the brides role to wear these all evening.

Crap. Bridal veil. Where's that spreadsheet?

I is for invitations

Apparently a plain pad with twenty invites plus plain white envelopes is 'not good enough,' according to my mother. There are only ten of us in this wedding party. Therefore I need an invite for my mother; Mike, Nina and Sam; Ronnie and any plus one. Chris told me to text him the details. So why do I have to go to such extreme measures for the invites? Because my Mother and Stella apparently want to
save them
as a memento of the occasion. I'm not being funny but sometimes women are strange.

I am therefore currently designing my own invitations on the internet. At first this seemed like a remarkably good idea. I've selected a tab called theme. There are hearts, ribbons, flower themes and even beach. No winter. What I do however notice is that down the left side of the page are the headings Order of Service, Table Plans, Place Cards, Menu Cards, Table Decorations, Guest Book. What the hell are all these things? I add them to the spreadsheet to look at another time.