Big Boned

by Meg Cabot

  “If you insist,” Cooper says grudgingly.

  “And Frank and Patty?”

  He rolls his eyes. “Why not? The more, the merrier.”

  “And Tom and Steve? They’d be really hurt if we didn’t invite them. So would Sarah. And Sebastian, if she’s still seeing him. And Magda. And Pete, too. His daughters would make cute flower girls.”

  “Heather. If we have that many people, it won’t be an elopement. It will be a wedding. And I hate weddings.”

  “It’ll be okay,” I say. “As long as your parents and my mother aren’t there. We have to have witnesses anyway.”

  “In that case,” Cooper says, “it’s a deal.”

  “And I think we should keep the cat,” I say.

  “What cat?” Then Cooper sighs. “Oh, that cat. Fine. Just so long as we don’t have to call him Garfield.”

  “I know,” I say, grinning. “Let’s call him Owen.”

  “After your boss?”

  “Yeah. Since in a way, his death is what finally brought us together.”

  “I can assure you,” Cooper says, “that that is categorically untrue.”

  “Whatever you say. Can we kiss some more now?”

  “That’s the best idea you’ve had all night,” he says.

  After a while, still kissing, we move out into the hallway, where we knock over a lot of the picture frames Cooper’s grandfather left behind after he died. So then we move out into the front hallway, near the stairs leading to the second floor, where we run into real danger of falling over, especially since we’re both shirtless and some of us have lost our pants.

  “No,” I say without elaborating why, when Cooper suggests that making love for the first time on the hallway runner wouldn’t be such a bad thing. “It really would.”

  We make it upstairs to his room.

  But barely.

  23

  * * *

  You opened my eyes

  Now I can finally see

  What it is

  You’ve always seen in me

  “Happy Song”

  Written by Heather Wells

  * * *

  I’m humming as I make my way to work the next morning.

  I can’t help it. It’s a gorgeous spring morning. The sky overhead is achingly blue, the birds are singing, the weather is warm, the flowers are blooming, and the drug dealers are out in full force, happily toting their wares. Let’s face it, there’s a lot to hum about. I’m happy—actually genuinely, one hundred percent happy—for the first time in—well, forever.

  And not because I’m full of a high-calorie confection from the nearby coffee shop, either. But because I’m full of love.

  Cloyingly sweet? Disgustingly trite? I know. I can’t help it though. He loves me. He’s always loved me.

  Well, okay, maybe not always. But he definitely started liking me back when Jordan and I were going out. It wasn’t entirely coincidental that Cooper showed up with his offer of a job and a place to stay exactly as I was being shown the curb by his brother.

  He claims he extended the invitation merely as a chivalrous gesture to a woman whom he thought was being shabbily treated by a family member. The friendly feelings he’d felt for me at the time grew, over the course of the year we’d lived together, into romantic love.

  But I know the truth: He had only the vaguest idea how hot he was for me until he saw me with another guy, and realized (however wrongly) that he was about to lose me. And not to some murdering psychopath this time, but to a nearsighted vegan math professor. Then, POW! It was all Heather, all the time.

  However big a goober Tad may have turned out to be, I definitely owe him one (and I don’t mean for the passing grade, either).

  Of course, in the end, who even cares how long Cooper’s loved me? He loves me now, and that’s all that matters. He put in a dog door just for me. Oh, and we’re getting married.

  And we have a cat named Owen that last night crept into bed with us and slept on Cooper’s side, while Lucy curled up next to me. And they didn’t fight. Not once.

  I’m so busy humming and being full of love that I don’t even see the woman jogging next to me until she sticks her face almost directly in front of mine and goes, “Hey, there, Heather! I’ve only said hi three times already! What’s the matter with you, anyway?”

  It’s only then that I recognize Muffy.

  Only she looks completely different than the last time I saw her, because her hair has been deflated. It’s tied back in a ponytail, and she’s in leggings and a tank top and running shoes, not high heels. This makes her about four inches shorter.

  “Muffy,” I cry. “Hi! Wow. Sorry. You startled me.”

  “I guess so,” she says with a laugh. “What are you so happy about this morning? You look positively glowin’.”

  “Oh,” I say, restraining myself from throwing my arms around her with a smile. “Nothing. Just…it’s a beautiful day.”

  “It is, isn’t it? And you heard about the strike, right? Isn’t that great?” Then Muffy sobers. “Listen, I heard what happened to you last night. You’re okay, right? I can’t believe it was the ex-wife, and not that Blumenthal boy, all along. What a bitch!”

  “Yeah,” I say. “Tell me about it.”

  “She’s going to be all right, I hear. It was just a whadduyacallit. Flesh wound. They’ve got her in for psychiatric examination. Apparently that’s why Dr. Veatch left her in the first place. ’Cause she was a little batty in the old belfry. Poor man. I guess they’re going to go for an insanity defense. Well, they’re going to have to. I mean, to go postal like that, over wedding china? Hello? Oh my God, and did you hear the other thing? About Reverend Mark?”

  I raise my eyebrows. “No. What?”

  “Submitted his resignation,” Muffy says. “Just like that. No one knows why. I mean, I know there was some kind of misunderstanding last night at the memorial service with that cute friend of yours. But for him to resign! Do you have any idea why he’d do that?”

  I can’t help it. I’m grinning ear to ear. “No idea. I guess he just figured it was time to move on.”

  “I guess,” Muffy says. “But what a shame! He was so cute! Thank God for that other friend of yours, Tad. I mean, at least there’s ONE good-lookin’ guy left on campus. He’s a real sweetie pie. Well, except for the vegan thing. But I’ll have him cured of that lickety split. I cannot date a guy who doesn’t appreciate my mama’s fried chicken recipe, know what I mean? Anyway, he wants to meet for a run tonight after work, so I figured I better whip myself into shape, you know? I’ve completely let myself go. Anyway, I better get goin’. Now that the strike’s over, I’ll be working on the president’s initiative to improve New York College’s image in the media. I guess we need it, what with all the murders that go on all over the campus. I’ve got to do somethin’ about the fact that they call that place you work in the Death Dorm. That is just ridiculous. Well, ta ta.”

  Muffy jogs away. I look after her, admiring the way she keeps her uterus from falling out as she runs.

  Some women are just lucky that way, I guess.

  I reach Fischer Hall and pull open the door. The first thing I see is Julio, buffing the Rollerblade scuffs on the marble floor.

  “Welcome back,” I say to him.

  He just shakes his head sadly. “Look at this,” he says, looking down at the scuffs. “It is disgusting.”

  “Yes,” I say happily. “It is, isn’t it?”

  I get a few more feet inside before I run into Jamie, hurrying off somewhere.

  “Heather!” she cries, brightening at the sight of me. “Did you hear?”

  “About Reverend Mark?” I nod. “I sure did. Congratulations. You scared him away.”

  “Not about that,” she says, waving a hand in a pooh-poohing gesture. “Although that rocks. No, it’s about my dad. He’s dropped the charges against Gavin. I guess Chief O’Malley convinced him he didn’t really have a case. So now your friend Cooper’s going to get all t
hat money he posted for Gavin’s bail back.”

  I smile at her. “Oh,” I say. “That wasn’t Cooper’s money. It was from a bail bondsman. Cooper just put down ten percent.”

  Jamie frowns. “No,” she says. “That’s what he told you, but I was standing right there when he paid it. You were over talking to Gavin, so maybe you didn’t notice. But he paid the whole amount. He asked Chief O’Malley if a personal check was all right, and he said it was, just this one time. So Cooper paid it all.”

  I stare at her. Then I smile.

  Then I burst out laughing.

  Jamie looks at me like I’m a mental case. “Uh,” she says. “I’ve got to go. I’m meeting Gavin for a film shoot he’s doing uptown. I’ll tell him you said hi, and, um, see you later, Heather.”

  I’m still laughing as I turn around and see Pete behind the security desk. He grins at me.

  “What’s so funny?” he wants to know. Then he glances at his watch. “Hey, what do you know? It’s a new world record! Right on time! And what’s this? No enormous caffeinated beverage laden with whipped cream? What gives?”

  “I just didn’t feel like it this morning. I am so glad to see you back where you belong,” I say. “You have no idea—”

  I rush at him, and impulsively throw my arms around his neck. Startled, Pete hugs me back, awkwardly patting me on the back.

  “Whoa, I have a pretty good idea,” he says. “Jesus Christo! A lady tries to shoot you, and you go all girlie on me! What’s the matter with you?”

  “Nothing,” I say, pulling back and just standing there, blinking down at him with tears in my eyes. I’ve completely lost it, but I don’t care. I’m just so glad to see him, and that everything’s back to normal. And yet, not back to normal. A new normal—the best new normal there could be.

  “Yeah,” Pete says, cocking a finger, then twirling it around by the side of his head to indicate to the student worker behind the reception desk that he thinks I’ve lost my mind. “Can we get back to earth now?” He immediately starts pulling open his desk drawers. “All right. So who cleaned while I was gone? What happened to all my doughnuts? Everyone says it was you—”

  “Please,” I say with a sniff, as I turn on my heel and make my way to the cafeteria. “The Board of Health would have shut down that desk if they’d seen it, it was so foul. I did you a favor.”

  “Some favor,” Pete calls after me. “That’s harassment, you know! I’m calling my supervisor! I’m reporting you!”

  Laughing, I find Magda at the register running a resident’s meal card through her scanner.

  “Look at all the byootiful movie stars who come to eat here,” she’s cooing. “We are so lucky to have so many byootiful movie stars in Fischer Hall!”

  “Magda,” the student says. “Please. Not now. I just came down for some coffee. I don’t have time for your patronizing—”

  I’d recognize that surly tone anywhere. “Sarah?”

  The student turns. It’s Sarah, all right, her hair back to its normal enormous state. She’s in flannel pajama bottoms, slippers, and a huge sweatshirt. Her contacts are gone, and her face is makeup free. Cinderella’s out of the ball gown, and back into her rags.

  But there’s no mistaking her inner beauty shining through when she recognizes me. Her face transforms from its I-just-woke-up snarl to a thing of joyous wonder as Sarah’s breath catches and she throws her arms around me.

  “Heather!” she cries, squeezing my neck so tightly I can barely inhale. “Oh, Heather! Thank you! Thank you!”

  “Um,” I choke. “You’re welcome?”

  “You don’t know,” Sarah breathes into my hair. “You can’t even imagine what you’ve done for us. But because of you catching Owen’s real killer, all the charges against Sebastian have been dropped. He’s free…free to go back to his classes…to his teaching position…everything. You saved him, Heather. You saved him. You were the only one who believed in him. The only one! I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to pay you back. He spent the night with me last night…I mean, really spent the night with me. And it was heaven. I’d given up on the idea of my ever finding a man with whom I could have a really satisfying physical as well as intellectual relationship—but with Sebastian, I’ve found it. I’ve never been happier in my life. And it wouldn’t have happened if we’d had that hanging over us, I think. But thanks to you…I don’t know what we’ll ever be able to do to thank you—”

  “Well,” I say. “You can start by not strangling me.”

  Sarah lets go of me at once.

  “Oh,” she says, backing up and looking embarrassed. “Sorry.”

  “That’s okay,” I say. “I’m glad things worked out with you and Sebastian.”

  “Worked out,” Sarah says, with a laugh. “Worked out! Oh my God! They’ve so much more than worked out. I can’t even tell you—it’s like a dream. I just came down to get bagels and coffee. Then we’re going to continue making sweet love all day to celebrate our victory over the criminal justice system as well as the president’s office.”

  Magda and I exchange glances. Neither of us is having much success at keeping a straight face.

  “Okay,” I say. “Well, good luck with that, Sarah. Safe sex, right?”

  “Of course,” she says, with a sniff. Then, because apparently she can’t help herself, she darts forward and gives me one final hug before turning around and running for the bagel bar. “Oh, Heather,” she says. “I just hope someday you can find the romantic happiness Sebastian and I have!”

  “Yeah,” I say, patting her on the head. “Me, too.”

  Then, to my great relief, she drifts away to the bagel bar.

  “She is such a pill sometimes,” Magda observes, as she fluffs up her already enormous hair.

  “Tell me about it,” I say, with a happy sigh.

  “Well,” Magda says. “You’ll never guess.”

  “No,” I say to her. “You’ll never guess.”

  “I already know about you,” Magda says, waving a heavily manicured hand. “You caught Dr. Veatch’s real killer, and she tried to shoot at you, and you nearly died. So what else is new? I got something really important to share.”

  I put one hand on my hip.

  “Fine,” I say. “That’s not what I was going to tell you. But go ahead. Tell me your news. I’m sure it’s a lot more important than mine. Not.”

  Magda looks right, then left, to make sure no one is eavesdropping. Then she leans forward across the register to whisper, “My news is…you were right!”

  I raise my eyebrows, surprised. It’s not very often that someone tells me that I was right about something. So this really is news. “I was? About what?”

  “About Pete!” Magda cries, leaning back. She’s grinning ear to ear. “You told me I should just tell him how I feel. Well, last night, after the pizza, I finally worked up the courage, and…I did. And…”

  I am not generally a squealer, but letting that sentence trail off like that is just plain cruel, and has me squealing.

  “And what?” I shriek.

  “And he said he feels the same way about me,” Magda whispers, happily. “We’re going out now.”

  I stare at her. “You’re lying.”

  She grins at me. “I am not lying. Oh, we’re not—what did she call it? Making sweet love all day?—yet, like Sarah is. We’re taking it slow—you know, because of the kids. But we’re definitely right for one another. Now. What do you have to say about that, Miss Heather Wells?”

  I smile.

  “That I knew it all along,” I say.

  An Excerpt from The Bride Wore Size 12

  1

  Your Wedding Day Is: Four Weeks Away. By Now You Should:

  Mail rehearsal dinner invitations

  Visit the dressmaker for your final fitting—

  Friday!!!

  Get your marriage license

  Contact guests who haven’t yet RSVP’d

  Finalize seating arrangements

&nbs
p; Write your vows

  Everything’s going to work out.” That’s what I’ve been saying all month to my fiancé, Cooper. “Everything’s going to be great. Wait and see.”

  Each time I say it, Cooper looks at me in that adorable way he has, one dark eyebrow lifted slightly higher than the other one. He knows exactly what I’m talking about, and it has nothing to do with our upcoming wedding ceremony at the Plaza Hotel in New York City.

  “You do know that statistically, more young adults end up in hospital emergency rooms than any other age group?” he points out. “At least for accident-related injuries. And more of them die of those injuries than any other age group as well.”

  When you live with a licensed private detective, you can count on many things. One of them is that sometimes he’s going to keep odd hours. Another is that there will be firearms in your home.

  A third is that occasionally he will trot out random facts you probably never cared to know, like how many registered sex offenders live within a five-mile radius of your home, or that more young people end up in hospital emergency rooms than any other age group.

  I glare at him. “So?”

  “So it makes sense that in a student population the size of the one at New York College,” Cooper says, “you’re going to have at least one or two deaths a year.”

  “Not this year,” I say, shaking my head vehemently over our Chinese takeout. Everything we’ve been eating lately has been delivered in a carton, because with freshman check-in looming, my hours are so long. I’m coming home from work later and later every evening, bone tired from sorting keys and supervising room cleanings. Cooper has a case as well, so his hours haven’t been very regular either, although out of respect to his client’s privacy, he won’t tell me exactly what his duties entail. “This year, everything is going to be different. No one in Fischer Hall is going to die this year. Not even accidentally.”

  “How are you going to manage that?” Coop asks, gnawing on a Chinese sparerib. “Bubble wrap all your residents?”