Back at Pop's Chock-lit Shoppe, things were devolving fast at the corner booth of chaos.

Archie Andrews and his groomsmen—Jughead Jones, Reggie Mantle, Kevin Keller, John B. Routledge, and Spencer James—were on their third round of milkshakes and their fourth round of questionable conversation.

John B. was mid-sip of a double chocolate swirl when he blurted out, "Okay, I'm just gonna say it—who's got the better dick? Me or Reggie?"

Reggie snorted. "Please. Have you seen me?"

Kevin's straw fell out of his mouth. "Oh my God, why am I here for this?"

Archie laughed. "Wait—are we really doing this?"

Jughead raised an eyebrow. "This is either the weirdest or most honest groomsmen moment in history."

Kevin, mildly horrified but secretly curious, groaned. "Fine. It's Reggie. But only because the man lives in a gym and has the ego to match."

Reggie raised his milkshake like it was a trophy. "Thank you, Kev. I knew it."

Tabitha Tate, who had been wiping down the counter in Pop's with a perfectly neutral expression, rolled her eyes so hard they practically echoed. She wasn't trying to eavesdrop—they were just that loud.

What she was trying to do was mentally prepare herself for the inevitable fallout once Veronica found out Archie had gone behind her back and hired Kim freaking Petras to be their wedding singer. A move that was... bold. And very on-brand for Archie: passionate, impulsive, and completely uncoordinated.

Just as she was thinking how this secret wouldn't stay secret for long, her phone vibrated in her apron pocket.

Incoming Call: Veronica Lodge

"God help me," Tabitha muttered before excusing herself to the back.

She answered the call in the employee hallway, voice low. "Hey, V. What's up?"

"I'm gonna kill him."

Tabitha blinked. "Oh. So you know."

"Tabitha," Veronica growled, pacing furiously in her living room, designer pen still in hand from half-heartedly working on the wedding registry. "Archie said—he said—he wasn't hiring any pop stars. No Taylor. No Sabrina. No Kim. And you're telling me...?"

Tabitha sighed. "It's true. He hired Kim Petras."

Veronica's voice cracked from the sheer level of betrayed rage. "WHY?!"

"He thinks it's Paris, not Riverdale, and wanted a more 'global pop energy,' whatever that means," Tabitha said. "He didn't want to hurt you. He just… thought it'd be a surprise."

"Surprise?" Veronica spat. "This is not a surprise. This is a deception wrapped in glitter. I already confirmed Josie and the Pussycats. He knew that!"

"He panicked," Tabitha admitted. "And he told the boys not to tell you, which, by the way, they're not great at."

Veronica sat down hard on the edge of the couch, fuming. "This is my wedding. Mine and Archie's, yes—but this part was mine. He just… hijacked it."

Tabitha was silent for a moment, before offering, "What if Josie and the Pussycats performed first? Like, an hour before Kim?"

Veronica was silent for a moment. Then her voice returned, sharp and ice-cold.

"No."

Tabitha blinked. "No?"

"No Kim. Period. Just Josie and the Pussycats. This wedding is not going to turn into a glitter bomb disco just because Archie got trigger-happy with a credit card and a diva hotline."

"Why not Kim?" Tabitha asked, cautiously.

Veronica huffed. "Because she's not us, Tabitha. It's not personal. She's fabulous—iconic even. But this wedding has heart. Soul. A Riverdale origin. It's not about a show. It's about a story."

Tabitha took a breath. "Got it. I'll tell him."

She hung up and beelined back to the boys.

Archie was still trying to explain to Kevin why a confetti cannon needed "at least three settings" when Tabitha stormed up to the table.

"Archie. We need to talk. Now."

All the boys immediately sat up like kids caught talking in class.

Tabitha crossed her arms. "Veronica knows."

Archie blinked. "About… the milkshake contest or—?"

"Kim Petras."

The table fell silent.

Archie put down his milkshake. "Oh. That."

"Yeah. That." Tabitha snapped. "She's fuming, Archie. And not cute-fuming. Like, bridezilla-hitting-the-final-boss-level fuming."

Archie sighed, slumping in the booth. "Okay, but... it's too late. Kim's already confirmed."

"I told her that. She doesn't care," Tabitha said. "She wants Josie and the Pussycats. Period. No pop spectacle. No surprise guest stars. No blood pacts."

John B. leaned in. "Are we still doing the blood bag thing?"

"No," Archie muttered. "Probably."

Back at the apartment, Veronica stared at the wedding registry in front of her but couldn't concentrate.

Her cursor hovered over a Le Creuset Dutch Oven in "Mist Grey," but all she could think about was how Archie had gone behind her back. Lied to her face. And booked a literal pop icon without even talking to her.

It wasn't just the betrayal—it was the disrespect. The assumption that her vision wasn't enough. That their shared dream needed someone else to give it sparkle.

She picked up her phone and messaged her bridesmaids group chat:

Veronica: Kim Petras is out.
Archie is on thin ice.
Registry planning postponed. I need a gelato and a boxing class.

Olivia: WTH? What did he do?

Betty: Do you want me to fight him? I'll fight him.

Emily: I mean… I do love Kim, but he should have told you.

Mindy: Should we cancel the cannon order?

Tabitha (now back behind the counter): On it. I've got him cornered.

Veronica tossed her phone aside and curled up on the couch. She wasn't done. Not even close.

Because this wedding wasn't about glitter.

It was about love. Loyalty.

And no one—not even Archie Andrews—was going to take that away from her.

The milkshakes would settle.

But the bride was just getting started.