Chapter 31

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We, meaning Marianne, John, and I, got to the venue early to let the decorators in. Marianne wanted to make sure everything was perfect, so she had us supervise the crew as they were setting up and instructed us to find her immediately if something looked off to us. I was not the right person for the job. Everything looked expensive and bougie and the decorators were professionals. They would have fixed errors before I would have even caught them. Marianne didn't need to know about my inadequacy on top of her stress, though. The lavishness of the ambience simply dazzled me too much to be detail-focused.

Andrew and Laura, and I suspected to a large extent their parents, had chosen a beautiful estate on the Hudson which would have fit up to 150 guests, but they had put their foot down and insisted on inviting "only" about a hundred people. To compensate, they had gone overboard with the menu and thus catering expenses, Marianne had told me in confidence. I had tried to get a good night's sleep which had proved easy with my exhaustion from the long drive and willing myself not to speak to John more than what was necessary. Marianne hadn't outright asked me about it, but her knowing looks said she still had a pretty good idea of what was going on. Maybe John had even talked to her about our falling out. They were closer than he let on.

John and I and the five feet of strained silence between us were watching the decorators preparing the tables in the ballroom, careful not to scratch the hardwood floor—when from across the room, someone called: "Johnny? Little Johnny, is that you?"

I turned around curiously. The textbook TFB to whom the voice belonged was about Andrew's age, a few inches taller than John, buff, and had dark, wavy hair which was meticulously done. He was a classic case of a man wearing a suit and not a suit wearing a man. My guess was: a lawyer at a gigantic New York firm in which he was essentially invisible but was grateful for every degradation they offered him, thinking it would make him tougher and valuable to the firm until he'd be promoted to partner one day.

"Hey, Tom. Long time no see." John's response was less enthusiastic, no doubt due to the nickname.

Tom engulfed him in one of these bro hugs you didn't usually see at formal occasions like these: the kind of hug where you thought the men were going to shake hands and then they patted each other on the back while never once letting go of each other's hand. It was a bizarre ritual.

After letting go of John, he gave me a quick once-over.

"And who might this be, your girlfriend?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm right here. That gives you the privilege to talk to me instead of about me."

The laugh John suppressed turned into a smirk.

Tom donned an amused attitude. "Oh-ho, alright then. Who might you be, Johnny's girlfriend?"

"A friend of John's from college if you must know. Grace." I didn't get into the nuances.

Staying polite, I extended a hand to him which he shook firmly like a normal person.

"Tom. I'm Andrew's best friend from high school. God, how time flies, eh? I haven't seen Johnny here," he clapped his back forcefully, "since he was the tender age of 10 or 11."

John opened his mouth, possibly to inform Tom that he went by John, but closed it again. I couldn't blame him. This guy wasn't worth his time. It was hard to believe that respectful straight-shooter Andrew had been friends, let alone best friends, with a guy like Tom, and was apparently still friends with him if he had invited him to his wedding. A short period of silence ensued as Tom eyed me benevolently.

"Tom, why don't you go instruct the decorators how to set up the arch in the other room?" John eventually suggested, impatience lacing his syllables.

I narrowed my eyes at him and shook my head ever so slightly to say 'what are you talking about?' Apart from the fact that this was a bullshit task, Tom couldn't have and wouldn't have helped with it even if it had been meaningful. Marianne would have slapped John over the head with her clipboard if she had known he was attempting to put guests to work.

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