She returned with giant bowls of ice cream. Liz happily ate her chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream as Brea launched into yet more tedious details of the wedding, such as who was attending and how the invitations were going to be styled. Liz wanted to have a magnet that was like a scrapbook. Then Brea wanted to know if the corners should be squared off or chamfered, and they spent thirty minutes talking about the pros and cons of each.
I was half wondering if it would be feasible to hurl myself through the large glass window. It was probably solidly built. But if I could knock myself out, I might be able to go to the hospital.
My phone beeped with a message. Hopefully it was an office emergency so I could leave.
Wes:If you’re throwing yourself out the window, please take me with you!
Mark:This is supposed to be your dream wedding.
Wes:This is all for Liz. But let’s just say I may be traveling more than normal the next few months.
Mark:Conveniently on the wedding-planning days.
Wes:It’s an unavoidable tragedy.
The women had moved on from the save-the-date notes to talk about the schedule of wedding events. Because apparently it wasn’t enough to have a wedding, there were showers, bachelorette parties, bridal teas, and special shopping excursions that all had to be meticulously planned. I stifled a yawn and looked at Brea. I watched her pick at her ice cream while Ivy talked, carefully excavating each piece of chocolate chip cookie dough and then digging out all the chocolate. It was irritating.
“Why don’t you just eat cookie dough?” I snapped, unable to contain my aggravation.
Brea looked up at me.
“Because then it wouldn’t be chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream.”
“You’re just picking everything out!”
“And then I mix all the ice cream with the coffee, and it melts into an ice cream coffee syrup,” she retorted.
Could I make it to the window before Wes stopped me?
“Unfortunately,” Wes said, standing up. “As much fun as the last three hours have been, Mark has a very important meeting.”
“I do?”
“Or did you want to cancel and continue the wedding planning?” Wes asked blandly.
Fuck. Speed dating. It was like the trolley problem—did I want the acid-in-the-face option of spending the rest of the day wedding planning, or did I want to pull out my own fingernails and suffer through speed dating?
“We’re about to talk about the pros and cons of tulle versus chiffon for a drapery in the venue,” Brea said.
Pulling out my own fingernails it was.
“Let’s go, Wes,” I said.
He gave Liz a kiss.
There was that pang of jealousy.
“Holy shit,” Wes said, slumping against the far wall after we had escaped to the elevator. “I knew weddings were a big deal to women, but holy hell.”
My brother Carter was waiting outside in a bright-yellow Hummer. “You need to arrive in style,” Carter told me, opening the door with a flourish.
“I’m not riding around Manhattan in that!” I said in horror.
Finn was waiting inside the Hummer. I had been in the Marines, and I knew from experience that Humvees were not roomy. To top it off, my cousins and I were not small men. We crammed in as Carter peeled into oncoming traffic to the blares of horns.
“You’d better slow down,” I warned.
“Now, Mark,” he said, turning back to look at me. I cursed as Carter almost rear-ended a FedEx truck.
