Mark nodded, knowing that Glibt was right. They couldn't cater to their family and friends on their day. "If you want to have it here, we can have it here." He squeezed her hand. It was as nice as any of the homes his mother would thrust upon them up and down the Eastern seaboard, wasn't it? Well, Mark knew it to be true. He'd picked the place out, and as much as he haded to admit it, he did have some of his mother's taste in him. It was as American a design as it could be.
"I don't want to rush it," he said. "I know you're excited about the planning and everything, and I meant it when I told you that I would make time to go to at least some of those --the bridal shows?-- those thing with you. We're not going to have it late November if that's not good for you, and December, you're right, it might be too Christmasy." And that would have him prickling during the entire ceremony, if the bright red and greens that inevitably came with a Christmas wedding didn't blind him first.
Mark squeezed Glibt's hand again before tugging gently on her arm. "C'mere." He moved his legs, letting one dangle over the side so that Glibt would have room to join him and lean back against his chest.
"January means we can't have it outdoors, but if it's New England or-- how do you feel about DC as an option?" Mark raised an eyebrow teasingly, "I... might let you have access to the White House social planner to help things along. If you --and Media and Mom-- thought that would help."