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“Well, as far as I remember, he wasn’t wearing flashy clothes.”

“No, it wasn’t about the clothes. Turns out, he doesn’t handle alcohol very well either,” Brenda remarked, throwing another judgmental look my way. “Apparently he was mixing his ‘juice’ with whiskey, in undisclosed proportions, so by the time you had gotten to the police station, he was looking like a three days old corpse! My poor baby!” Brenda squealed and, to my and mom’s surprise, burst into tears.

“Brenda, what are you on about? He’s a vampire! He doesn’t drink whiskey. As for having one too many, moderation is not a concept he’s familiar with.” My eyes moved over to mom, who had walked over to the fireplace and demonstratively lit one of dad’s cigars. “What are you doing, mom? You don’t smoke!”

“I don’t smoke, and my son is an angel. At least you graduated from university – only just… For that, I’m grateful,” she retorted before elegantly sinking into a high-backed leather chair like a vintage Hollywood sweetheart.

“So why is he in the morgue?”

“Because some smarty-pants had reasoned that when the ambulance arrived and the doctors saw a swollen, black-and-blue form that Derek was, they’d rush to save his life,” Mom explained. “And the first thing they’d do is check his pulse. Imagine the commotion when they found out he didn’t actually have one? So you, smarty-pants, came up with nothing better than to suggest to Derek that ‘passes away’ in the ambulance, which he did.”

“What a champ!” I exclaimed, mentally addressing myself, rather than Derek even. “And why are you crying, Brenda? Your little leech will be home soon, practically ‘alive’ and reasonably healthy.”

“He’s not going out with you ever again! I swear, Cornell,” she squealed, wiping away the tears. “When the two of you get together, there’s always trouble. I’ll do everything in my power to – ”

There was a sudden knock on the door, cutting Brenda’s fiery sermon short.

“Ah! There’s Sabrina!” mom sang, dragging out the words for emotional impact. “I still don’t get what she sees in you, son. Such a clever, beautiful girl…” “And then there’s you,” she added, stubbing out her cigar in the ashtray before hurrying to the door.

And there she was, standing in the doorway, like a ray of spring sunshine in a dark room. The girl who wanted to spend the rest of her life with me. A decision she had made entirely on her own. And it looked like she might well make another independent decision now to send me packing. I assumed a most innocent expression and started looking around for the hoodie I remembered wearing the night before.

“It’s behind the couch,” Brenda grumbled and headed toward the kitchen, where Mrs. Renton could already be heard bustling about.

Sabrina glided past me silently to take the spot where Brenda, who I’d apparently offended, had been wailing just a minute ago. I couldn’t think of anything more original than ‘attack is the best defence’, so right in I went.

“Okay, so I screwed up,” I declared, looking into the blue eyes of my beloved witch.

She sat opposite me, arms crossed, scanning every inch of my swollen face.

“Not the phrase Eric would use. You have a lot of apologising to do. He was furious when he found out you had ‘slayed’ a vampire – without his help!” Sabrina noted quietly, then burst into laughter.

“And just yesterday morning, you told me off for being wicked! Compared to you, I’m practically an earth angel! How are you feeling after your binge drinking? And then that fight… Are you really that bored with me? I can fix that easily.”

“It’s just that the drinks were too strong. And honestly, I hadn’t even had that much,” I stared at the floor to avoid looking at Sabrina who, I know, was enjoying tormenting me.

“No, sweetie, you had had much. And yes, the booze was strong. Tricia told me all about it—I began my shift right after you, idiots, had gotten hauled off to the police station.”

Seeing my reaction, she had to bite her lip to avoid bursting into another raucous laughter. To think of it! Organise a beer party at a bar where your girlfriend works and drink yourself into being booked for a brawl… That’s proper cringe material.

“Did Tricia call the cops then?” I enquired civilly, my eyes still riveted to the floor in front of me.

“No, she was curious to see how your little one-man show would end. But you really annoyed one of the frequenters, so he decided to turn you in.”

“Alright, forget that guy. So, when are you going to start chastising me for being a complete and utter jerk about Derek? It was my idea to ‘kill’ him, by the way. And do it behind Eric’s back, too”

“I’m not. You’re already feeling – and looking – bad enough,” Sabrina said softly, brushing a stray lock of dark hair away from her angelic face. “Besides, my bachelorette is coming up soon,” she added with a mysterious smile, seeing a surprised look in my now-almost-sober eyes.

“So you’re planning to one-up me?”

“Anything’s possible…” my bride-to-be whispered ominously, then smiled again. But, Jack, if Derek doesn’t finish my dress in time for the wedding, I’ll kill you. And I won’t care that you’re my fiancé,”. I kept staring at her in disbelief.

“Are you for real? You have entrusted your wedding gown to a laid-back leech?” I boomed, drawing mom’s attention.

“He has excellent taste,” Mrs. Renton chimed in, coming to Sabrina’s (or rather Derek’s) defence.

“Sure, when it comes to friendship bracelets and other hippie crap – I mean, accessories, then I suppose he does…”

“Weren’t you the one telling me you didn’t care much what dress I wore?” Sabrina asked teasingly.

“Sabi, it’s my wedding, too! How could I not care?” I even threw up my hands, which earned me one of the warmest smiles from Sabrina to date and gave me a fresh wave of headache.

“You should go clean yourself up. You smell like you just crawled out of a dumpster. And your face… Come here,” Sabrina chirped, sitting down next to me on the couch. She gently touched my battered face. I heard a faint crack and felt a sharp pain come and go. “There, that’s better,” she said, planting a soft kiss on my stubbly cheek.

“That’s why I adore you,” I whispered. The next moment my attention was drawn to the front door, behind which loud, incoherent singing could be heard…

Chapter 3

Back from the Other Side

The singing intensified. A few minutes later, the front door opened, and a tall, stout, burly man with thick, silver-grey hair and matching moustache appeared on the threshold. He was breathing and snorting heavily, while constantly clenching and unclenching his fists. This could only mean one thing: Mr. Cornell Sr. was beside himself with rage.

“Gabriel, dear! I think I’m about to kill someone!” my father said through gritted teeth as he walked into the living room. On seeing me, he smiled and was about to step into the room when a long, drawn-out wail sounded behind him from the direction of the front door. “Derek! Stop howling!” father exclaimed, throwing up his hands, and then silently walked past Sabrina and me, collapsing wearily into his favorite high-backed leather armchair.

“I’m not howling, I’m singing, Mr. Cornell. The difference between the two is colossal,” the vampire declared, finally entering the house. “Let me explain it to you.”

“My God!” came a cry from the kitchen. Sabrina and I exchanged glances and, our mouths agape, stared at the strange creature that was cuddling and stroking his beloved dog.

“Abby! Ugh!” father barked. “Derek, leave the dog alone. She’s not a stuffed toy, you know.”

Derek hesitated but finally released the excited canine from his tight embrace and marched into the living room, grinning broadly. I felt Sabrina freeze in place, gripping my hand tightly. Brenda burst into even louder sobs and disappeared into the kitchen again. Mom clicked her tongue disapprovingly, while Dad, unable to control his emotions, stood up and began pacing the room. As for me, I stared wide-eyed at what used to be my drinking buddy from the night before. Standing before me now was a tall, bloated, blackened corpse, his skin covered in dried blood, wrapped in my father’s old brown dustcoat. Underneath the dustcoat, apparently, there was nothing else. His hair was dishevelled, his eyes resembling two overripe plums that someone had trampled on. The long claws that had adorned his bony fingers just the day before were now gone. On his bare feet sat a pair of tattered hospital overshoes, and a name tag was still attached to his left toe, sticking out ominously.

“Hey, buddy!” the vampire greeted me. “Looks like you’ve regained your senses, too! What a night, huh? I’m still buzzing that I managed to get drunk! I just had to keep you company. I always thought the stuff would just transit through, leaving me unaffected… Should have thought again, should have known better! Getting sloshed for the first time in a hundred years… Wish I’d known sooner. So much fun wasted.”

Derek chirped cheerfully, breaking into a blissful smile that revealed his blood-stained fangs.

“What do you mean, ‘known better’?” Sabrina enquired judgementally, watching her “fashion designer” float around the room, mimicking Cornell Sr.

“Dad, how did you get him out?”

“He threw up right in the morgue,” Dad remarked, ignoring my question. “Can you imagine? Right there! Threw up! A vampire! And you know what happened to the doctor who tried to examine him?”

“Me!” the vampire in question interjected. “I happened to the doctor,” he chuckled. “Like in the good old horror movies. I open my eyes, push the dude in the white scrubs aside and dash to the sink! I heard the loud thud behind me as he fainted, of course, but I didn’t think he’d be so impressionable. He deals with stiffs daily, after all…So unprofessional of him. People used to be different back in the day. They weren’t afraid of anything! But now? Everyone’s gone soft,” the bloodsucker mused, settling into my father’s armchair.

“And what about you, Cornell? You did show your true colors last night: ‘Give me a lever long enough and a fulcrum on which to place it, and I shall make a toast!’” the vampire mimicked me and guffawed. “Your toasting skills leave a lot to be desired. And – you’re hardly Archimedes.”

“Anyways, Jack, the next time you decide to get drunk—and I hope there won’t be a next time—choose a more mortal companion, will you,” uttered a quiet, unfamiliar voice behind us. “You’re drawing too much attention. To yourselves, and to the things regular people shouldn’t know about.”

I turned around to face a tall stranger standing in the dark corner of the hallway. The man stood like a statue, observing us silently and intently, barely moving. How did he enter the house unnoticed?

“Felix, if my memory serves me right, you haven’t met my son, have you?” my father addressed the stranger.

“No, Elliot. But I assume you’ll introduce us now. Although I’ve heard quite a lot about the exploits of Mr. Cornell Jr.,” the man said in the same quiet, raspy voice, moving further into the living room and allowing the rays of the setting sun to give us a better view of our new acquaintance.

Before us stood a tall, stately man in his mid-forties. Clean-shaven, neatly combed, and elegantly dressed. He looked and carried himself like a typical, successful businessman, except for one small detail: his unnaturally greyish skin and a thin, slightly opaque film covering the whites and pupils of his eyes. The stranger stepped closer, tilting his head slightly to greet us, then smiled broadly, revealing a row of sharp, razor-like fangs.

“Felix Timmons,” he introduced himself. “Curator of the Ancient Letters Department at the ‘Guardian.’ And, incidentally, chief mentor of this… misfit,” he nodded toward the armchair in which Derek was lounging, feeling a little too comfortable. “I’ve spent centuries trying to hammer some sense into him – all in vain.”

“Don’t take it to heart, Felix. This guy here, my son (God help us), is also a walking disaster,” my father chimed in, pointing his index finger at me. “I can’t even imagine what would have happened if Eric had been there too. Sabi, sweetheart, no offense, but that would be quite a crew. I’m almost afraid to think what they’d have gotten up to. We’d have to declare a state of emergency across the entire state!”

“That’s exaggerating, Dad,” I muttered.

“Not in the least! And do try to ensure a party like this never happens again!”

“I promise, Mr. Cornell, it won’t happen again,” Sabrina reassured, cutting in before me. “And if it does, I’ll be the reason why someone ends up with a sore jaw,” she looked me straight in the eye and smiled suggestively.

“Let’s hope it won’t come to that,” my father grumbled, glaring at Derek. “And that goes for you too, ‘son.’ What were you even thinking… You bunch of fools.”

“So how did you get him out of the morgue?” I’ve been itching to know the whole time. It must have been an extraordinary feat of planning: to extract this shaggy excuse for a human from the hospital freezer, and without anyone noticing.

“Felix and I went to ‘identify the body.’ We walked into the morgue to find the doctor unconscious on the floor. Meanwhile, Derek was belting out songs and rummaging around in a little side office for something to wear. I then darted back to the car for my coat, and while Felix was charming the pants off a nurse, I managed to sneak Derek off the premises. I must admit, we got damn lucky,” Mr. Cornell Sr. concluded with a smirk. “Yeah, boys, you must have conspired there to spice up our quiet lives. And you nailed it. Pray my grandchildren won’t inherit their parents’ ways, right, Felix?”

“That’s true. Elliot won’t survive this,” Derek the chill guy vampire chimed in, glancing curiously at my girlfriend.

“Solange de Manshand!” Felix exclaimed, once again nodding his head in greeting.

“Or, as your friends call you, Sabrina! It’s a great honor to meet such a talented descendant of a legendary family! I’ve known many women from your lineage, but I must admit, none of them were as charming and talented as you!” Felix proclaimed with undisguised admiration. I didn’t fail to notice how his previously lifeless, dead eyes glinted with near-human passion. “Derek told me he designed your wedding dress for you. Honestly, I was surprised…”

“You know, so was I. Surprised is putting it mildly. In fact, I was shocked!” I thought it appropriate to join the discussion at this point. I instantly regretted my decision, seeing Sabrina knit her beautiful, arched brows at my remark. A sure sign she was starting to get angry.

“What do you mean, Jack?”

“Well, to tell you the truth, I expected anything and was prepared for everything – except a hippie-style wedding.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean, Jack? Have you absolutely no faith in me?”

Derek exclaimed, offended, and slowly rose from his armchair. “So, you think braided friendship bracelets are my limit, huh? Sabrina! Come on, tell him!”

Felix looked at everyone in confusion. A tense silence fell over the room. Considering that Sabrina had so far remained silent and avoided getting into spats, now was the moment when her patience could finally snap. Sensing that a controversial subject had been raised, Felix excused himself and, following my father’s example, disappeared into the kitchen, shutting the door firmly behind him.

“You two are driving me crazy!” the girl said coldly and took a deep breath. “You!” she barked, pointing a finger at Derek. “If my dress isn’t ready in four days’ time, I’ll cremate you alive! And no amount of Brenda’s sobs will save you! Rest assured. And you!” Sabrina turned to me, striking a warrior pose with her hands on her hips. “You’re not getting off lightly either! Don’t you doubt it for a second! Now get your things! We’re going home!”

She spun sharply on her heels and headed for the front door. Derek and I exchanged understanding glances.

“Tell dad that mom’s now smoking,” I instructed the now-quiet bloodsucker.

Pulling on my hoodie and swaying slightly, I shuffled after Sabrina.

Chapter 4

Pre-Wedding Torture

Two days later, our small family safely landed in Paris. It was here, in the province of Île-de-France, at the ancestral home of the de Manshands, that our grand wedding ceremony was to take place. Mom kept trying to lift my spirits, and every now and then, she would tug me at my sleeve and dreamily go over the details of her own wedding decades ago. She chattered nonstop about how, not so long ago, Sabrina and I hated each other so much that we were ready to tear each other’s throats out. So considerate of her!

I endured her babbling stoically, all while stealing glances at my beloved out of the corner of my eye. In fact, I have been trying to keep my distance for now – to avoid idle arguments about the wedding’s insignificant, minute details, thus souring everyone’s festive mood. My nervousness didn’t escape dad, when, just before boarding, I had politely asked mom to swap seats with me so she could sit next to Sabrina. Mr. Cornell Sr. tried hard to keep his composure and not give me a lecture, but in the end, he couldn’t hold back.

“Don’t stress so much, son. It’s just a wedding,” was his idea of cheering me up. “It’s natural to be nervous in the run-up to it. But there’s no need to torture yourself like that.”

I didn’t argue but just smiled back and turned on my MP3 player, signalling the end of the conversation.

“It’s just a wedding…” The words weighed heavy on my heart, and I turned even gloomier. I had naively hoped that our wedding would be a modest affair: a small chapel in my hometown, only close friends and family. Not some grandiose ball type gathering with a bunch of strangers, “thanks to whom you haven’t been kicked out of the Order yet,” – quoting dad. With my reputation in the Order being, putting it mildly, not-so-great, I was genuinely worried that I may not be able to keep my cool on my own wedding day. And Sabrina… Oddly enough, although it was entirely expected, all Sabrina was fretting over was her wedding gown. After all, the long-awaited masterpiece was being created by none other than the greatest fashion designer of all time, Derek. But Derek, as I had thought he might, had disappeared from our radar more than 24 hours prior, after first switching off his mobile.

We stood in silence at the baggage carousel at Charles de Gaulle Airport. My parents were discussing something in hushed voices; Sabrina was glancing around nervously, searching for her self-confessed couturier. Whereas I was biting my tongue not to deliver another round of “Didn’t I tell you so?”

“Jack! I don’t know what I’ll do to myself if Derek doesn’t show up!” whispered my wife-to-be, gripping my hand tightly. “Promise me that if he disappears on us, you’ll find him for me, so I can kill him!”

Well, I tell her he would?! Why does this girl never listen to me?

“You know, darling, even if he doesn’t show up—which, by the way, I’ve warned you about more than once—there’s nothing to worry about! What do you even need Derek for? We’re in the fashion capital of the world, for heaven’s sake! Don’t you think there are enough dresses to choose from here? I’m certain we can find one so stunning that Derek himself would drop dead – pun intended – at the sight of it. And that he’s quite good at.” I finished my impromptu rant under Sabrina’s scorching glare.

“Are you saying my dress, and what I want to look like on my wedding day, doesn’t really matter?” she hissed, not taking her eyes off me.

“Oh, did I imply that? No, my dear. That’s not what I meant. I’m just saying I can’t wait till this damn circus is over!” I snapped, not holding back anymore. I freed my hand from hers abruptly and rummaged around in my pockets for a cigarette. “Come on, did you really pack all my cigarettes in our checked luggage?” I exclaimed angrily, finding my pockets empty.

“I hate you so much right now, Jack. You have no idea!” Sabrina hissed furiously, heaved a sigh, and headed toward the exit, where cars sent by the Order were awaiting us.

“Yeah, things are spiralling out of control,” stated Brenda, who always showed up at the ‘right moment’ to rub it in. I glared at her and silently trotted to the exit.

The entire ride to the De Manshand castle, Sabrina and I played the quiet game. I stared blankly out the window, struck from time to time with pangs of remorse. We were lucky—France greeted us with beautiful sunny weather.

“They say September is going to be unusually warm this year,” Brenda broke the silence. “The weather forecast for your wedding day is also looking good.”

I heard Sabrina heave a sigh in reply to Brenda’s comment. I didn’t turn my head either and kept staring out the window. Brenda was right. The weather was glorious. Rays of golden sunshine were making its way through the red, yellow, and, in places, still green trees, dancing on the brown grass, scorched by the summer heat. Nature was valiantly sharing its beauty with us, but this mesmerizing sight only deepened the sorrow in my heart. What am I doing? What’s happening to me?

“Nearly there!” Brenda said cheerfully, apparently still keen to lighten up everyone’s mood.

I stole a glance at Sabrina, who was still silent and oblivious to everything around her. I looked out the window again and was stunned to see a line of parked cars stretching from that point all the way to the castle gates.

“Holy crap,” I muttered, swallowing a lump in my throat. The gates stood wide open, letting our car drive through to the inner courtyard. I clambered out of the car and looked around. Where did all these people come from? Who are they?

“Eric!” Sabrina’s cry made me turn around quickly. She rushed toward the castle steps and literally threw herself into the arms of a young man in dark sunglasses. The man gave her a tight hug and laughed.

“God, Sabi, sis! I’ve missed you so much! You look stunning! Absolutely stunning!” Eric was beaming, his wide grin revealing a pair of the habitual sharp fangs. “How are the happy bride and her hopeless groom doing?”

“We’re fine. But right now, I hate him,” Sabrina declared, shooting me an icy look. “He’s driving me crazy!” She turned back around, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed her brother on the cheek. “I’ve missed you too,” she added, then let go of him and disappeared through the imposing, medieval castle door.

“Same old, same old, huh? What is it this time?” Eric the-now-vampire asked, clearly amused. “Good to see you, by the way.”

“Likewise,” I replied, clapping Eric on the shoulder. Finally, I was reunited with my best friend, my partner in crime, my rock, who I knew wouldn’t lecture me or preach proper etiquette. The friend I’ve been missing so this past year. “What the hell are you doing out in the sunshine? You can barely see anything during the day.”

“Because I’d rather be out in the sun than inside, with Derek running around like a headless chicken, trying to make everything ‘perfect’. Can’t take this anymore!” Eric grumbled.

“Derek’s here?”

“You bet! And he’s been driving us all nuts for days now. And it’s not just him… So, what’s up with you two?” he deflected, sitting down on the wide marble slab at the bottom of the steps running up to the castle doors.

“Eric, is that… a ponytail?” I asked, eyeing my friend’s new hairstyle in disbelief.

“Renee thinks it suits me,” the vampire smirked and rummaged around in his hoodie pocket for a pack of cigarettes. “Old habits die hard, right?”

“Weird to see a vampire smoke. But then again, Derek managed to get plastered, so I guess nothing surprises me anymore,” I said, sitting down next to Eric.

“At least I won’t die of lung cancer,” Eric chuckled, handing me a cigarette. “So, what happened? Second-guessing the whole getting married thing amidst all the chaos, and she realised that?” Eric persisted, glancing at a party of newly arrived guests making their way in – people that we were seeing for the first and, likely, last time in our lives.

“How do I put this? You know your sister hates it when I voice my dissatisfaction, also known as opinion.”

“That’s her signature stance. But sometimes, brother, you’ve got to put her in her place.”

I smirked, remembering how Eric used to tease Sabrina back when he was still human and living in New Orleans. Ah, those were fun times!

“You’ve spoiled her,” Eric concluded, taking a drag on his cigarette.

“Oh my God, Jackie! I’m so happy to see you!” boomed someone on my left. I jumped up in surprise and turned my head, but no one was there. “What a wonderful occasion!

Your wedding! I can hardly believe it! Are you excited?”

Now the voice came from my right. What the hell was going on?

“Endlessly,” I replied to the invisible speaker. “Though I’d love to know who I’m talking to.”

“It’s me, Stella, a relative of Sabrina’s,” the voice chimed in cheerfully from somewhere above me. “I lived in the twenties of the last century, but that’s not important! Just look at how many people have come! And it’s only noon!”

For a moment, the air around me sort of rippled and shimmered, and I could make out the faint silhouette of a woman in a simple, flowing beaded dress.

“So much to do! See you later, boys!” the phantom made a kissing sound and vanished, leaving behind only a light breeze.

“For a ghost, she’s way too lively,” Eric muttered. “Let’s head inside, buddy! And smile! The day after tomorrow, you’ll be married! And to whom? My own sister!

Never thought I’d live to see the day!” Eric clapped me on the shoulder and let out a raucous laugh. I forced a crooked smile and trudged after him.

We entered the main hall with the grand fireplace, also known as the “Crimson Room.”

Inside, there was complete aesthetic chaos. Everywhere you looked, there were huge vases with hydrangeas and roses in pastel pink and beige. The flowers were everywhere: on the floor, as if growing out of the soft pile crimson carpet; on the massive antique table; and even on the tall chairs. The sweet fragrance filled the entire room, mingling with the scent of old wood and history. To the left, on a small, gilded bench upholstered in crimson satin, were sitting the ghosts of Alex and Vivienne, my grandfather and the first witch of the De Manshand clann. The ghosts were whispering to each other and exchanging furtive glances.

“Did I not make myself clear enough zat we still need peonies and lots of greenery?

The keyword is lots, Derek! And I also requested carnations for ze ballroom. And what did you bring? Roses and hydrangeas!” came a high-pitched female voice with a subtle French accent. I couldn’t see the speakers, as they were in the adjacent hallway, but judging by the woman’s tone, we arrived just in time for the start of a heated argument.

“And I think roses and light blue hydrangeas will look far more dramatic when reflected in the tall mirrors. Carnations don’t belong here at all! But if you insist, we can add some deeper shades,” retorted the familiar, irritated voice of our prodigal designer.

“Derek! Don’t push me!” the woman snapped back resolutely, stepping into the drawing room. Before us stood a petite young woman with chestnut hair styled in an intricate updo. Her skin was pale, and her deep brown eyes, framed by thick lashes, were sending sparks flying in every direction. She ran a slender hand through her hair and tilted her head slightly in resignation.

“Alright, we’ll figure something out,” she mused, before finally noticing Eric and me.

“Mr. Cornell! Finally! I was starting to think Eric was keeping you away from us on purpose,” the stranger chirped, flashing a friendly smile that revealed a pair of sharp, perfectly shaped pearl-white fangs.

I was genuinely surprised by the turn of events. Never before had I met such a charming-looking vampire. And, judging by her demeanor, even she seemed annoyed with Derek today, meaning I needed to make quite an impression on this delightful lady—and fast.

“My name is Angelica Timmons,” my new acquaintance introduced herself, extending her hand in greeting.

“You must be Felix’s wife?”

“Exactement,” Angelica replied in her native tongue, smiling still. “Jack, I understand that most men don’t care about festive decor. Trust me when I say it… centuries may change, but men never do. And yet… What do you think?”

“I back your choice fully! Carnations should look perfect here,” I assured her and paused, involuntarily recalling the events that took place in this very ballroom only last year.

Eric tugged at my sleeve and gestured for me to look at the door, through which appeared the familiar head, adorned with dishevelled hair to which a multi-colored shoelace was attached.

“Carnations are so last century,” Derek grumbled, stepping into full view.

“Your suit is last century!” Angelica retorted teasingly. “What flea market even sells zis stuff anymore?”

“I bought it in the early forties, in Glasgow, Scotland. But that’s not the point. Cornell, are you for real about the carnations? Weren’t you the one telling us you couldn’t care less about wedding preparations and wedding theme?”

He was right, of course. Awkward. I scratched the back of my head and looked Derek straight in the eye, nodding silently.

“You disappointed me, Cornell,” Derek said pompously. “And by the way, roses are known for their vibration-raising and space-cleansing frequency.”

“For what?”

“Roses can purify the energetic field, also known as aura. You know – that invisible thing around them that all living humans have? Except you, buddy. You live shrouded in thick nicotine fog.”

“Well, then keep your nose out of my fog, go sniff some flowers, cleanse your chakras, and leave me alone!” I snapped.

Derek shot me an angry glance but didn’t argue further.

“I’ll go ask Sabrina if she liked the dress,” he changed the subject, casting another pitiful look at the hydrangeas that Angélique started removing from the vases to make space for carnations. With a theatrical roll of his eyes, he left the hall.

“Poor guy. He’s having a tough time,” Vivienne murmured with a gentle smile.

“Believe me, sometimes you just have to tell him to stop. Otherwise, trying to do everything at once, he’ll either accomplish nothing or create complete chaos… You should have seen what he had got himself into in the early seventies of the last century,” Angelica giggled, carefully tying a ribbon around a flower bouquet.