Free My Big Fat Demon Slayer Wedding by Angie Fox

recovered. Perky, even. Well, until she saw what I had in my hand. Again.
    “I thought you two understood you have separate rooms,” she said, her expression and her voice ice cold.
    Dimitri sat up. “Listen, Hillary—”
    “We do,” I said tightly, cutting him off, holding his leg in a death grip.
    She opened her mouth and then closed it. Finally, she said, “I’m calling a meeting so that we can go over our exciting week to come,” she said. “Are you ready?”
    No.
    “Yes,” I said, taking Dimitri’s hand.

    ***
    I grabbed a shower on the way, a cold one, and changed into a lilac sundress and straw wedge heels. It was about the only thing that could halt this parade, and not for long.
    Hillary waited while I got ready, then escorted Dimitri and me to the sitting room where—curse our luck—she’d recovered enough to set up a large message board on an easel. It was draped in white cloth, like some sort of fabulous surprise. We all knew better than that.
    She stood at the front of the room, quite proud of her creation while the biker witches burrowed into various couches and chairs like students on a Monday morning.
    No surprise that the couch at the very front of the class was unoccupied. I sat, trying to stay positive, and was rewarded when Grandma joined me. Dimitri took the spot on the other side and Ant Eater, who was paying the price for wandering in late, plopped down into the chair next to us.  
    “Your fault for making her feel better,” I said under my breath to the gold-toothed witch.
    She didn’t even have the courtesy to look guilty.
    At least she’d changed out of that god-awful tea party dress and back into her leather pants and black T-shirt. She had her sleeves rolled up and was half-heartedly playing with a vial that contained a glittering gold spell.
    For reasons that escaped me, Hillary had changed clothes as well. She was a vision in white, with ivory skinny jeans and a lace shirt, set off with a thin gold chain around her neck and tiny gold ball earrings. Then again, this was the woman who gardened in sundresses.  
    What I’d give for a leather skirt and a matching bustier.
    My mom clapped her hands together. “Okay, everyone. It’s time to get started. Are you as excited as I am?”
    Dimitri leaned close. “I would have been more excited if she’d have given us a few more minutes,” he whispered in my ear.
    Oh, Lord. Imagine what she could have walked in on.  
    Hillary would have had a heart attack.
    With the flourish of a model from The Price Is Right , she unveiled a long dry-erase board. It was divided into subsections and meticulously filled-out in red, black and green ink, which frankly made it look more like an invasion plan than a wedding party schedule.  
    She tucked her blond hair behind her ears. “We have a packed week, and it’s going to be so much fun as long as you follow the rules.” She eyed the crowd, pleased as all get out to be running the show. “First off, in precisely seven minutes, we will begin the bonbon favor making party.”
    I swear I heard Ant Eater groan.
    Dimitri shifted in his seat. “You don’t need me for that,” he reasoned.
    “What? You only want to be here for the fun parts?” I asked him.
    “Yes,” he said, without hesitation.
    Too bad. If I had to do it, it didn’t seem fair for him to make an escape, simply because he had a penis. Even if it was a really nice one.
    Hillary was on a roll. “Tonight at six o’clock sharp is the fork and knife barbecue. With a live band playing jazzy renditions of your favorite country hits.”
    “Elevator music,” Grandma said under her breath.  
    I tried to ignore her because it was probably true.
    Hillary pointed to the next board. “Tomorrow, at nine a.m. sharp, Ixia Papos will arrive from the Greek Institute to teach us some lovely ways to greet Lizzie’s new in-laws. Then at eleven a.m. sharp…”
    Dimitri sat like a statue, muscled arms crossed over his chest, staring into