Chapter 1
Five years later, Daria sat on her overstuffed recliner in her apartment as Tom sat cross-legged nearby on the floor. Both silently flipped through various wedding catalogues and magazines.
"What about puce centerpieces?" Tom asked with his eyebrows furrowed.
Daria kept her eyes on her catalogue. "What's 'puce'?" she said distractedly.
"I was hoping you knew." He flipped the page. "Oh, wait, here's a picture."
"Mm."
He examined the picture, then shrugged. "That's not bad. What do you think?" He held up the magazine so she could see.
"Mm," she said, still not looking up.
Tom raised an eyebrow. "Or we could skip the centerpieces and use the extra money to replace the band we hired with an all-girl mouth-harp and kazoo revue."
"Mm."
Tom sighed and waved a hand in front of her face, startling her into paying attention. "I didn't think it was possible, but I think you're more tired of this than I am," he said.
She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I was just…thinking." Before he could ask her what she was thinking about, she said, "Tired' is right, though. What time is it, anyway?"
Tom lifted his right sleeve up to check his watch. "12:47." He cursed under his breath. "I'd better get back. I've got a class at 8:00 tomorrow."
Both he and Daria got up and walked to the door. "Too bad we had to spend all night planning the wedding," Daria said.
Tom shrugged. "Yeah, but it's better than having your sister do the whole thing by herself." A month after they got engaged, Quinn had insisted that she help plan the wedding. If they didn't give her an idea of what they wanted, she'd just go with her own tastes.
"As God as my witness," said Daria, "I will never let my bridesmaids wear pink taffeta."
"That's the spirit," he said opening the door. He leaned in and gave her a long kiss goodbye. "See you tomorrow?"
"See you tomorrow."
As she shut the door behind him, she couldn't help but let out a smile, which soon faded as she felt her heart drop into her stomach. Everything with Tom was going so well, but a recent experience at her commitment ceremony had filled her with doubt about her relationship. Sure, she had written off her Holiday Island adventure as a dream before, but she had a sinking feeling that maybe it wasn't all a fantasy. And if it wasn't a fantasy, neither was Cupid's promise that he would set her up with someone.
Self-consciously, she glanced down at her oversized sweater and shapeless pants. 'Yep, you'd need a shot with the love gun before you looked twice…' She shook her head, trying to snap herself out of her funk. 'I've got to do something….talk to someone.'
She made her way into the kitchen, grabbing the phone on the nearby wall. She hit the second speed dial number and waited for an answer.
After three rings, the call was picked up. "Yo. Lane residence."
"Hi Jane," said Daria. "I didn't wake you, did I?"
"Are you kidding? It's not even 1:00 yet."
"That's what I thought." Daria paced across the kitchen floor. "Listen, can I come over? We need to talk about something."
"Sure thing. About what?"
She twirled the phone cord around her finger. "Just…a couple of old friends of ours."
"We had other friends?"
"Sort of. Jane, I think it's time we talked about Holiday Island again."
