Queen of Babble Gets Hitched
Chapter One
Whatever souls are made of, his and mine are the same.
—Emily Brontë (1818–1848), British novelist and poet
Chaz," I say, poking the man in the tuxedo who lay sprawled across my bed. "You have to get out of here."
Chaz brushes my hand away as if it's annoying him. "Mom," he says. "Stop it. I told you, I already took out the trash."
"Chaz." I poke him some more. "I mean it. Wake up. You have to go."
Chaz wakes up with a start. "Wha— Where am I?" He looks blearily around the room until his unfocused gaze finally comes to rest on me. "Oh. Lizzie. What time is it?"
"Time for you to go," I say, grabbing hold of his arm and pulling on it. "Come on. Get up."
But I might as well be pulling on an elephant. He won't budge.
"What's going on?" Chaz wants to know. I have to admit, it's not easy, being so mean to him. He looks downright adorable in his tuxedo shirt, all stubbly faced and confused, with his dark hair sticking up in tufts all over his head. He squints at me. "Is it morning already? ... read full excerpt from: Queen of Babble Gets Hitched ebook
