After Afterall

34

I'm doing my fiancé's job, despite the fact that he promised me he'd take care of the additional hundreds of people he's inviting to our wedding. I knew this was going to happen, but I hoped it wouldn't. It's my day off and I'm trying to figure out what table to put international dignitaries, who are from countries I've never even heard of before.

"Where should the President of Kiribati and his wife go?" Sarah asks, ever patient. She hands me the small post-it note with their names written in neat print.

"Kiribati? Where the hell is that?" I've asked this question as least a dozen times, but with a different nation each time.

Sarah shrugs. "Maybe it's somewhere near Balochistan or Degar."

I look down at the seating chart. My family, Derek's family, and our friends were easy to place. We chose traditionally with their tables; each family has their own table and our friends are sitting together. The White House staff was also easy to place. Even the members of Congress and their families who were invited were easy to place; I kept families together and political parties together.

But putting a seating chart together for countries that I'm never quite sure where they stand with one another—now that's impossible. Which I voice again, for the upteempth time, "I can't place any of them. Derek has to do it."

Sarah looks uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, Doctor Grey, but we need this done today at the very latest."

"Why? We have almost two months."

"The invitations need to go out today and we need to fit everyone in before we send invitations."

"Why can't we just put everyone down in a seat for now and change it later?"

"We could do that, but if we run into trouble with one country feuding with another and we can't place that one country, we might have to cut someone. And we won't know who to cut until we put together a seating chart." She looks apologetic. "I'm sorry, but it has to be today."

I stare down at all the post-its we still haven't done—dozens and dozens—and I feel totally discouraged. "I can't do this. It has to be Derek."

Sarah nods. "Yes, but, he's in meetings all day."

"I am going to kill him."

The door to the conference room opens and Sarah stands as Derek walks through the door. I don't stand for Derek when we're just us in the White House. I do stand in formal situations because it seems like I'm supposed to. Although, no one has ever explicitly told me I should stand for him.

Derek smiles at me. "Hey, how's it going?"

"Not good," I tell him honestly.

He leans down and kisses the top of my head. "I'm sorry I left you with the seating chart," he says to me and then to Sarah, "Thank you for coming today. I know we hadn't had it on the schedule."

"You're my only client, sir, so I'm happy to be here when you need me."

I practically glare at Sarah. She's nice and she does a great job, but I'm currently mad at Derek and she shouldn't be so nice to him. I know I'm being irrational, but it's still there.

I hand Derek the Kiribati note. "You have to do this. I can't."

Derek reads the note. "Well, I wouldn't put them with anyone from the United Kingdom. Still some bad blood there. I'd say any UN member would be safe. President Mamau and his wife are very low-key. I think it's the warm air at the equator." He smiles at me, as if he's being cute or funny.

I take the note from his hand and write "UN-ok/UK-bad" on the back. "I need you to do the rest of these."

"And we need this done today," Sarah chimes in.