Specs is on the phone with the eight-thousandth florist of the day. He seems to like this guy, because they're discussing flowers now, which he hasn't done with any of the other florists so far.

"Um, I'm thinking blue and white."

I pipe up from the kitchen. "Red, not blue!"

He goes back to chattering with the florist. "Well, I don't know. Maybe roses?"

Poking my head out the kitchen door, I grin at him. "Carnations."

Specs rolls his eyes, sighing. "Yeah, and some kind of accent flower."

"Baby's breath," I say, as I come out and sit down across from him with my sandwich.

He pulls the phone away from his head. "Do you want to do this?"

I smirk. "No, thanks, honey."

"Then would you can it?" I pout a little and then eat my sandwich. Poor guy's stressed out. He continues on with the conversation, then eventually hangs up, setting the phone on the table beside him. "Carnations and baby's breath. Matching boutonnières. Red and white. Delivery's at eleven on the twenty-first, to the gallery. You happy?"

"Yes... are you okay?"

He folds his arms on the table and rests his forehead on them. "I'm just exhausted. This wedding stuff is stressful."

"I know." I pick up the half of my sandwich I've been eating and slide the plate across the table. "Hungry?"

"Thanks." He picks up the sandwich and takes a bite. "So, any luck in finding the elusive Mr. Higgins?"

I shrug. "Tried calling every Higgins in the book, no luck. I still have his number in my yearbook and his mom might still live there..."

Specs shakes his head. "Nope. She moved three, four years ago."

"Oh." I take a drink of my soda and sigh. "Well, I have no idea, then. I figure I'll check with the alumni association up at J.P.'s tomorrow or the next day."

"Well, he never comes to the reunions."

"That doesn't mean they don't send him invitations."

"Good point." Specs nods and finishes his half of the sandwich. "So, what do you want to do tonight?"

I lean back in my chair and shrug. "How about we just stay in, watch a movie, maybe order some pizza?"

Specs grins. "Thanks."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Joseph Pulitzer Academy for Artistically Gifted Youth Alumni Association."

"Hi, this is Johannes Visser, class of oh-six," I say into the phone, feeling like the biggest loser on the planet for having worded it like that.

"Hi, what can I do for you?"

"Um, I'm looking for someone in my class, I'd like to invite him to my wedding and he appears to have dropped off the face of the planet."

The woman on the other end laughs. "Alright, do you have a name?"

"Anthony Higgins."

She laughs again. "Tony? You're looking for Tony?"

I blink. "Um, yeah." Scratching my head, I sit down on the couch and open up my address book. "Can you give me his address?"

"I can. I'd put you through to him right now, but he's in class."

"I'm sorry, he's what?" I cock an eyebrow at no one in particular. "Has it taken him this long to graduate?"

"Tony's our drama teacher here."

I laugh out loud. "You're shitting me."

"'Fraid not." She chuckles, then reads off the address to me. I write it down. "Anything else I can do for you?"

"No, I think that'll do it. Thanks."

"No problem, and congratulations on your wedding."

"Thank you," I say, and then I say goodbye and hang up.

"Hey Specs," I call over my shoulder. "You'll never believe this!"