Let It Go

61.

"Do something," Alex whispered to Meredith. "You do something. She's your fiancee," she whispered back. "She's already pissed at me. I can't risk pissing her off anymore." "So I should get her pissed off at me?" Meredith countered. "You're like, her best friend or whatever, her new George. She won't get pissed at you." "You're her fiance, if she'll get pissed at you she'll get pissed at anyone," Meredith shot back. "And what you mean her new George?" "Her and George used to be BFF. Then he got married. And according to her, I'm not her fiancee, I'm the bastard that put a rock on her finger." Meredith snorted.

"Seriously, do something," Alex pushed. Meredith glared at him. "If she bites my head off, chews it up, then spits it out, I'm coming back to haunt you," she warned him. "If it gets Izzie back from the three headed wedding monster, you can haunt me all you want." Meredith rolled her eyes, looked at Izzie, and braced herself.

"Iz?" she asked, approaching someone who looked like the Isobel Stevens she knew and loved but certainly wasn't acting like her. "What?" Izzie snapped. "I um... Help. Do you need help? I can help you. Or better yet, put the wedding planner down. Yeah... Put it down and we'll go... We'll go across the street to the Sweet Spot. That's a good idea. We only have a couple of hours left in our shift. I'll get Shaffrey to cover me, Tucker or someone can cover you, and we'll go get a sundate or a milkshake and just... Take a break...," Meredith stopped rambling. Izzie was glaring at her. She was going to die. Tomorrow, it would be front page news that she, a neurosurgeon, was killed by a raging bridezilla.

"A sundae or a milkshake? Seriously Meredith? Seriously?" Izzie's voice rose as she built up her momentum. "I... Yeah. Sundaes. Good. Good sundaes. Sundaes make you happy and yeah.. Sundaes. Or not sundaes. We could... They have cake. We could get cake...," Meredith shot an evil look at Alex as he retreated back a few steps from Izzie. "Cake Meredith? Cake? I'm getting married in five weeks! I have to fit into my wedding dress in five weeks! Sundaes and milkshakes and cake are not going to help with that!" Izzie fumed. "I was just... They have diet soda. You can have a diet soda. You can have a diet soda and I can have milkshake," Meredith tried again.

"NO!" Izzie snapped. "I don't want a sundae, a milkshake, a piece of cake or a freaking diet soda! I want to plan my wedding and get married, and live happily ever after. Is that too much to ask?" Meredith glanced at Alex who looked as though he'd had it with Izzie. "Possibly," she mumbled, hoping Izzie didn't hear. "What?" Izzie asked. "Oh, um, no, that's not too much to ask," Meredith answered quickly.

"Iz, take a break. Go with Meredith to the Sweet Spot. Even if you don't eat cake, just take a break," Alex said in a gentle voice. Izzie rounded on him, Meredith stuck between the two. "TAKE A BREAK?" she shrieked. "Take a break? SERIOUSLY? Alex! We are getting married in five weeks. FIVE! You need to have your ass sitting at this table, working on a seating chart instead of trying to convince me to go get freaking cake with Meredith!" People in the cafeteria were staring, trying to pretend they weren't. Meredith chewed on her thumb, her eyes darting between the two.

"And I will help you. At home this evening, not in the middle of the cafeteria. I sent you down here to get a snack after your surgery, not to work on wedding plans," Alex said in a lowered voice. "I just wanted a coffe," Meredith mumbled. "You've got two more hours left in your shift, I have three. We can work on this at home." "It's being done now," Izzie said through gritted teeth. Alex let out a frustrated sigh.

"What?" Izzie demanded. "What?" Alex countered. "What was the huffing about? Are you huffing over my seating chart?" "Yes," Alex nodded. "Oh God...," Meredith muttered. "Yes, I'm huffing over the seating chart. And not just the seating chart. I'm huffing over the whole damn wedding. If it's not seating charts it's chair coverings. 'Let's fold the napkins in the shape of swan. No, don't fold the napkins in the shape of a swan. My shoes aren't the right shade of white, the table cloths should be deep red. No they should be brown, it's warm and inviting. Let's change our vows. Actually let's write our own vows.' On and on and on it goes! I thought I was marrying Isobel Stevens not freaking Bridezilla!" Izzie's jaw dropped.