I Hate Grapejuice

I stared at the empty apartment, tears running down my face. He wouldn't come, I knew he wouldn't, but I wanted him to.

"Baby, you knew he wouldn't be here," Garret said, looking in the fridge. He pulled out, sticking his tongue out. "Ew. Booze and grape juice."

"No shit, Sherlock. It's all he ever has," I said, going to my room. I grabbed some of the many clothes, throwing them in a duffel bag. I blew my nose, sitting on the bed.

"Mae, don't worry about him. You're beautiful, have a good life, you're a freakin' movie star… and you're marrying the most eligible bachelor in Gotham City," he said, sitting next to me. He brushed the tears out of my face, giving me a hug. "Your dad loved you at one point."

I looked at him, glaring into his eyes. "Don't tell me that."

"I wasn't done. Your dad once loved you, but hey… I once thought that I had a chance with Bruce."

I smiled, trying to be mad at him. "Okay. You have a point."

"I know, right?" he smiled and got up, taking my hand. "And anyways… maybe one day Bruce will come out of that lovely little dressing room of his, straight into my arms."

"Not helping the situation, Garret. God, kid. If you were any more flaming, you'd have caught the clothes in the closet on fire." I said, looking at his blue eyes. Seriousness stayed etched on his face until I poked his semi-rosy cheeks.

"Mae, I'm saying that your dad might change his mind. You know… metaphoric crap."

I smiled, and then burrowed my eyebrows together. "What should I wear?" I asked, looking at my dresser.

"Huh?" He looked at me. "I don't know… maybe the wedding dress that I spent days and nights pouring my soul into?! The one I practically and literally bled over, I gave my sweat—"

"Tonight… I wanna look nice, but not like a slut," I said, getting up and looking through the lingerie drawers.

He rolled his eyes. "That's impossible," he joked. He walked over and pulled out a few options as my phone rang.

"Hello?" I answered hoping for a second it would be my father.

"Mae, are you planning to be late to your own wedding?" Alfred's calm and collected voice asked into the phone.

"No… I was just checking to see if my dad will show… and getting stuff for tonight, Alfred. Anyways, I've already done my own makeup, and Garret did my hair. I'm almost aisle-ready."

I heard Alfred sigh, but he said, "Let your little friend pick out an outfit for you, he'll probably have a better outfit than you could."

"I'm guessing you're already here to pick me up?" I asked, looking outside. Sure enough, Alfred was leaning on Bruce's Lamborghini. "Good God, Alfred. Make it any more noticeable," I mumbled, hanging up the phone and waving. "Gar, I'll see you at the wedding. I'll let you pick something out," I said, rushing out the door to finally go get married.