He’d never thought that wedding planning would be so much work; perhaps it was his determination to do the minimum in order to get the most out of every instance that had left him grossly under-prepared. James quickly realized, upon launching into preparations -- for Lily had quite the agenda, and so he could only hope to match it -- that he was, in fact, unprepared, no matter how thoroughly he was convinced that he could marry her in a paper bag in their backyard. They needed suits, dresses, cake, decorations, a guest list, which would have to be whittled down and trimmed of much extended family; James hardly knew where to start -- but he had to start somewhere.
And, it seemed that the first hurdle would be to pick a proper bow tie. He’d always thought that he looked quite dapper in a bow tie; he could look dapper, he supposed, and the rest would come from there. Twilfitt and Tatting’s, however, was rather overwhelming in their selection, and he’d spent the better part of the afternoon strangling himself with tie after tie, one of a more ridiculous pattern than the one before.
“Come on -- give me something, here,” he sighed, discarding what felt to be the hundredth bow tie he’d gone through that afternoon, hands lax and malcontent at his sides, “Polka dots? Hearts? The one with the little pineapples?” James looked to his commandeered partner in crime and gave a dramatic flop onto the adjacent chaise lounge. “Who knew bow ties could be so bloody complicated?”
