3
Holding out a snausage, Jem said, “Wait. Wait. Good boy.”
Scipio actually was a very good boy. And he was very good at sitting.
But he did lean forward a little. Sniff the air, trying to get an extra good whiff of the snausage.
And, in the process, the ring that had been balanced on his nose fell to the floor.
Maeve scooped up the ring, and Jem passed the snausage to Milo, who fed it to Scipio with a huge grin.
“How formal are we talking, Jeremiah?” Brigitte asked on speakerphone. “If it’s too formal, people will be uncomfortable. But if it’s too casual, it won’t have the right tone.”
“The right tone is ‘We’re getting married on the cheap,’” Jem said. “There’s nothing too casual for that. Milo said he’s going in his underwear.”
“No, I didn’t!” Milo said, but he burst out giggling.
Maeve, who had recently entered a scary phase involving eye shadow, gave Jem and Milo a look that said they were both crazy.
Spending time with his little brother and sister—technically, half-siblings—was one of Jem’s favorite things. Unfortunately, the price included talking to Brigitte, who was, technically, his mom.
Right then, Brigitte’s voice sharpened, “What do you mean, you’re doing it on the cheap? What does that mean?”
“What do you think it means?”
“It’s your wedding, Jeremiah. It’s your special day.”
“Yup,” Jem said. “You’re right: it’s my special day. And I think Milo had a great idea. I think it’s going to be an underwear-themed wedding.”
Milo started laughing again as he got another snausage for Scipio. The Lab nosed into him, trying to get at the treat Milo clutched in one hand.
“You can’t have an underwear-themed wedding,” Maeve told him. “That’s not appropriate.”
“Jem,” Milo said, squirming away from Scipio as Scipio licked his hand, trying to get him to open his fingers. “Jem, it would be like Captain Underpants!”
Brigitte was trying to sound casual. “I think if you want to do an affordable wedding, that’s very responsible. I think it’s entirely possible to do a perfectly lovely wedding without spending gobs and gobs of money.”
Which was easy for her to say, since she had gobs and gobs of money of her own.
“Not affordable,” Jem said. “Cheap. We’re making Maeve’s dress out of Taco Bell wrappers.”
Maeve’s jaw dropped.
“Jem, help,” Milo squealed—amusement and excitement more than actual panic. Scipio had lovingly but relentlessly nuzzled the boy up against the sofa, and now the Lab was trying to pin Milo’s hand but putting his paw on top of it. “He’s using his hand!”
“Dogs don’t have hands, dummy,” Maeve said.
“But you’re inviting people,” Brigitte said. “You’re inviting guests.”
“Not very many,” Jem said.
“That’s part of being a good host, Jeremiah. Making sure your guests have a good experience. You want this to be a special time for them too.”
“I thought it was my special day.”
“Milo, stop! You’re being annoying!” Maeve’s voice was high and sharp. “Jem, make him stop!”
Scipio had finally managed to get Milo’s hand open. The snausage was gone, and the Lab was enthusiastically licking Milo’s palm.
“It’s a special day for everyone,” Brigitte said. “I’m the mother of the groom—”
“One of the grooms,” Jem said. “Because it’s a gay wedding.”
Brigitte’s silence, on the other end of the call, was like pressure building.
When she spoke again, her voice had the same sweetness she used the one time she’d met Scipio and pushed his nose away from her designer jeans.
“Sweetheart, I understand how stressful it is, planning a wedding. Why don’t you let me help?
I’ve got some money set aside for something special like this. I want to help you. I’d love to do it.”
“Thanks, but we’ve got it covered. Our friends are helping.” Before Brigitte could follow up on that, Jem hurried to add, “I’ve got to go; we’re in the middle of something. I’ll talk to you when I drop the kids off.”
He disconnected.
Maeve was checking her makeup in the mirror as she said, “She’s just worried what all her friends are going to say.”
“Probably,” Jem said. “But we’ve got bigger fish to fry. We still haven’t made your Taco Bell dress, and Milo needs to figure out which underwear he’s wearing to the wedding, and I’ve got to teach Scipio how to carry Tean’s ring.”
“You should tie it to his tail,” Maeve said.
“Jem,” Milo asked, mid-pet, “can I hold Scipio’s leash at the wedding?”
“I’m going to be the flower girl,” Maeve announced.
“Well, we hadn’t really figured out—” Jem began. But Maeve was staring right at him, and the eye-shadow phase was terrifying, so he changed it to “Yeah, right.”
“And someone needs to be in charge of Scipio,” Milo said, in case Jem had forgotten.
“Well, you’re right, someone—”
But his phone buzzed with an incoming call from Brigitte.
Maeve made a sound of annoyance.
Milo rolled backward onto the couch.
The phone kept buzzing.
“I’m just going to ignore that,” Jem said to nobody in particular.
The phone stopped buzzing.
And then the screen flashed as Brigitte called again.
“She’s not going to stop,” Maeve said.
Jem scratched his beard.
The phone was still buzzing.
“She’s going to keep calling until you answer because she doesn’t want her friends to think she’s poor.” And then, after a pause, Maeve added, “I could help. If you want.”
Jem stared at his little sister. His calculating, devious, diabolical little sister.
“I get to be the flower girl,” Maeve said. “And I get my own song when it’s my turn to walk down the aisle.”
“I don’t think they call it your turn—”
“And Milo gets to walk Scipio down the aisle with the rings.”
A second. Three. Five.
The call ended. And then it began again.
“Deal,” Jem said.
Maeve snatched up the phone, answered the call, and screamed, “Jem said I can’t get my ears pierced, and Milo won’t stop singing!”
As though on cue, Milo started singing, “Ninety-nine barrels of beer on the wall.”
“Because he’s being rude!” Maeve said in answer to some question Jem hadn’t heard, carrying the phone toward the back of the house. “And Jem won’t do anything!”
“I really get to walk Scipio down the aisle?” Milo asked. When Jem nodded, Milo said, “With the rings?”
Jem nodded again.
Milo rolled off the couch and sprinted after his sister. “Mom! Mom! Maeve won’t let me watch SpongeBob! Mom, I gave Scipio a treat. Mom, let’s FaceTime so I can show you how he eats a treat!”
Scipio was sniffing the bag of snausages. Just in case.
The door to the garage opened, and Tean stepped inside. He tilted his head toward Maeve’s and Milo’s raised voices. “Everything okay?”
Jem laughed. “Yeah. Just normal family stuff.”