Tom got ready alone in the suite he was still technically sharing with Megs. Whether it was to allay his nerves or because he’d really do anything to be his best self, he’d taken extra care showering, shaving, and dressing for the occasion.
The adrenaline spike of telling off his dad and quitting (God, he’d really quit the firm) had settled, leaving him with a sense of ease he hadn’t experienced…maybe ever. He’d spent the remainder of his afternoon on a rented scooter, seeing the island, carefree. Letting his mind wander to the great unknown, Tom had indulged the history major still kicking within, signing up to tour the island’s best-known historical attraction.
He listened intently to the costumed actor pretending to be a nineteenth-century soldier who told him how a war had raged between two camps, the American and the English. How the English camp had thrown parties with women and a surplus of food while American soldiers had faced isolation, supply shortages, and mind-numbing boredom.
How they’d never actually engaged in battle. And how a war that had stretched for fourteen years had been started, unbelievably, by the death of a pig.
Tom kept thinking about all the times he and Megan had opted not to fight, like two separate camps, two sides of the same island.
As he wound his way through the forests, he kept trying to envision what he’d do with his life if he ever got a true tomorrow. Switch to a more fulfilling type of law? Go to culinary school? Get a PhD in history? Run away to New Zealand and become a hermit? The possibilities were, quite literally, endless. They were also terrifying. Terrifying in the greatest possible way.
He was free. From expectation, from self-delusion and doubt and loathing. Today he was a man he himself could be proud of; something, he’d learned, that was more important than his father’s approval.
Tom wondered benignly if his father would show up to the dinner tonight.
Of course he would. John lived for appearances. And there was no way Carol would agree to sit at the table alone with the Givenses.
It was too early to leave, but Tom didn’t want to wait in the hotel doing nothing. He decided to take a stroll around the grounds to pass the time. It was a warm night, the end of summer, a full moon reflecting off the ocean. Soft folk music rolled lazily through the air as guests for the wedding on the front lawn found their seats. Tom sat down on the stub rock wall to watch from a safe distance.
If time had continued as it was supposed to and he and Megs had never fought, that would’ve eventually been them on that front lawn with their guests. He thought he’d feel regret watching the brides walk down the aisle together. But instead, he felt an enormous sense of gratitude. He and Megs had uncovered so many layers between them, aspects of their personalities, their wants and desires, their grudges and vexations; layers they’d been actively ignoring and burying for years.
They would’ve been saying “I do” in a state of denial. Disingenuously.
With a deep heaviness in his chest, resolute, Tom understood that if he could turn back the clocks and take control of time, he wouldn’t. Even if it meant missing the hell out of the woman he loved so much.
“Tom.” Leo ambled toward him, looking as though his usual confidence had been steamrolled.
Tom stood, nearly giving his oldest and dearest friend a hug out of sheer habit.
“Hey.”
“I’m glad I found you.” Leo quickly recovered from Tom’s aloof greeting. “I…I don’t know how much I should tell you, but I’m sorry, man. I can’t stay for your wedding.”
Tom nodded. He didn’t need to yell or punch Leo again. He didn’t need to let Leo off the hook either. He wasn’t sure when or if he’d be ready to forgive the brother he’d chosen, but now was definitely not the time.
Clearly uncomfortable with the lack of follow-up questions, Leo rambled on. “Again, sorry to leave you in the best-man lurch, buddy.”
“You’re not the best man.”
“I…what?” Leo chuckled nervously.
“You’re not the best man,” Tom repeated. “Not for me, and obviously not for her.”
Tom didn’t need to say which her he was referring to. Leo slumped, all bravado slipping.
An uneasy silence plunged between them. Tom made no move to speak. He had nothing else to say.
“For what it’s worth,” Leo began, raking his fingers through his hair before gaining the courage to look Tom in the eye. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t think you are, Leo. And that’s okay. I can’t blame you for falling for someone I fell for too. But considering everything that’s happened and everything you’ve kept from me, I’m not sure I can ever see you again.” The words no longer stung quite so acutely; they felt right.
Without another word, Leo left. Tom didn’t stay to watch him go. After all, he had a rehearsal dinner to get to.
Tonight Tom was going to absorb every detail. Everything he’d missed all the other times.
The first thing he noticed was the music. It was a song he’d put on a playlist for Megs in college, one they’d argued about the meaning of over bagels and cream cheese. Every time they heard the song afterward, Megs lovingly referred to it as “The Great Debate-Over-Bagels Song, or: How I Learned to Love Tom Despite How Wrong He Can Be.”
The second detail he noted was also song-related: a sign at the entrance of their private room that said BETTER TOGETHER. He remembered strumming the Jack Johnson song on his ukulele and singing it to Megs. Before he could get too choked up, he turned his attention to all the guests who’d traveled here to wish the two of them well. He wandered through the tables, greeting relatives and friends, lingering a little longer at Paulina’s and Hamza’s seats so he could tell them just how much he’d appreciated their support and sanity over the years. Tell them that London, to this day, had been one of the best trips of his life.
When Paulina pulled him in for a hug, the baby hiccupped between them, a small comical miracle.
“I’m so nervous to be a dad,” Hamza confessed. “But people keep saying kids are hilarious—sometimes by accident, sometimes on purpose—and that’s getting me through.”
An ache in Tom’s chest pulsed, a mourning call for the kids he thought he’d one day have with Megs. The little one growing inside Paulina would’ve been his own child’s playmate. Someone to make mischief with at family gatherings.
At the center of each table was a picture frame featuring a carefully selected photo of Tom and Megan: the two of them posing with the lion statues in Trafalgar Square; Megs, on the day they took possession of their SoHo apartment, trying to carry a large box that, on close inspection, revealed a folded-up Tom (only partially blurred by their laughing neighbor’s fingers); Megs and Tom kissing on a Boston duck boat sightseeing tour; the outtakes from their engagement photo session that scandalously depicted Megs grabbing Tom’s ass (that photo was placed at her grandparents’ table, which made Tom laugh).
When had she had the time to go through twelve years of pictures? A prickle of guilt rippled up his spine. Because he knew he hadn’t just abandoned her in the wedding planning; he’d abandoned her in a hundred different pocket-size ways.
His eyes were drawn to Megs as soon as she entered. She looked fresh, beautiful. Calm in a way she hadn’t in ages. But he knew her so well, he could see the telltale signs that she’d cried before reapplying her makeup. Her nose always turned bright pink.
For a millisecond, before guests swarmed her, a thread connected them. Like those telephones made from tin cans and string. Time slowed as they each sent a message along.
We made it, it said. Survived another day.
If this was indeed a day to be their best, then this was going to be the rehearsal dinner they’d wanted, not the result of a million compromises.
Tom took his seat beside his mother. “Is Dad coming?”
“He’s talking to your aunt Florence. Is this dinner really being served family-style?” When Tom nodded, the tiniest of shudders rippled through Carol.
“I’ve asked the kitchen to make you up a separate plate.” Megan sat down on the other side of Tom.
Carol wasn’t one to show emotion, but a small approving nod told Tom she appreciated Megs’s thoughtfulness.
They’d never discussed his mom’s debilitating germaphobia. Megs had obviously seen it on her own. It was a very Megs thing to do.
When he’d called off the wedding the first time, he hadn’t actually sat down to make a ledger of all the things he’d miss about her. The list had formed on its own and now it seemed infinite.
“Ah, Tom. You’re here.” John loomed over the table, waiting to belittle his second son before sitting down. “I wondered if you were quitting everything today.”
Before Tom could formulate a response or give Megs a reassuring look, Brody and Emmeline appeared. Tom stood to kiss Emmeline’s cheek and give Brody a hug. “You okay?” he asked. Not because he was trying to do things right, but because he was seeing his brother for what he was: a facade of success covering a man who didn’t know who he was.
“Fine, Spare Parts. Why? You wondering if I’ll be needing any of your organs anytime soon?” Brody replied a little too loudly. Then he stage-whispered, “Has Mom said ‘two planes and a ferry’ yet?”
Megs stood to greet a very somber-looking Donna.
“I suppose if anyone’s allowed to be late for the rehearsal dinner, it is the mother of the bride,” Carol trilled.
“She isn’t late, she’s right on time.” Megan delivered the polite but clipped response through a tight smile.
Had this been two days ago, Tom would’ve been sweating, worrying about juggling the many unpredictable personalities throughout the dinner. Tonight, Tom knew he was at a table of adults and he couldn’t be responsible for arranging an armistice among them all.
But he could still stand up for what he believed.
“Ease up, Mom.” Tom was keeping his voice low, though he felt Megs shift beside him.
“Watch your tone with your mother,” John said, also keeping his volume low so as not to cause a scene.
“For years I’ve listened to you criticize my fiancée and her family.” Tom’s voice was steady. Grave. “That ends now. You’ll treat them all with respect or you’ll stop seeing us.”
Tom heard Megs inhale sharply beside him and risked a glance at Donna, whose cheeks were flushed, eyes glassy with emotion. Brianna gave him a thumbs-up and mumbled something about glass houses.
Brody, meanwhile, gave him a small wink and appeared to be smiling behind his drink.
His parents said nothing.
As people found their seats, and salads began circulating, Tom stood, tapping a fork against his glass. The room hushed.
“We’d like to thank everyone for coming this weekend. Travel days, like relationships, are rarely smooth, and so we want to acknowledge the efforts you’ve made to get here.”
“Two planes and a ferry!” Brody bellowed, raising his glass, clearly deciding he no longer had to wait for Carol before he could drink.
Tom raised his own glass good-naturedly to his brother. He scanned the room of family and friends before landing on the most important person. “Most of all, I’d like to thank Megs. There are a thousand details in this room that are a testament to her capabilities, her dedication to those who are lucky enough to be loved by her.”
He smiled sadly at his once bride-to-be and saw the gratitude in the quirk of her mouth, the soft blush in her cheeks.
“Whatever happens, whatever else the universe has in store for me, I am grateful now for the journey I’ve taken to get here. For the many ways my partner of the past twelve years has taught me to be a better person, even if I didn’t always listen.”
A murmur of soft laughter rippled through the crowd and they applauded.
Tom took his seat just as John stood.
He felt his fingers grip his seat, his body on high alert, ready to interrupt or attack.
“My second son,” John began, his impressive baritone carrying through the restaurant—this was a man who needed no utensil to get the crowd’s attention—“has never been what I expected. Always trailing behind his older brother, Broderick, never making his own decisions—until he met Megan Givens, a young woman from a town in Montana who made him happier than we’d ever seen him.”
In his peripheral vision, Tom saw Megs blush.
“I’ve given my son everything. Tonight I planned to announce I was even going to give him a house in Kirkwood, Missouri.” There was a tittering among the crowd. “But then he stomped onto the golf course this morning and quit his job.” He held a hand to the side of his mouth as though he were telling the crowd a secret. “I hear his boss is a real hard-ass.”
The crowd laughed nervously.
“I will say, despite the audacity of his tone and the surprise I feel about Thomas leaving Prescott and Prescott, I’m proud of him. Because he is clearly determined to pave his own path. And he couldn’t have a better woman at his side as he does it.”
John raised his glass and the guests joined him, applauding.
He’d done it. Tom had finally gotten his dad’s approval. He tried settling into the victory of the moment and was struck with a surprising epiphany: He didn’t actually feel any relief. And perhaps this was the greatest gift his father could have given him today.
“Well, that was some speech.” Brianna, who’d scurried off to lurk at Paulina’s table, retook her seat. “A tad heteronormative at the end, but nice.”
“Agreed,” Megs said to her sister before raising an eyebrow at Tom. He was about to respond when Alistair walked in.
“It’s sure quiet in here for a party! What’d I miss?”
Donna bolted to his side, weeping and calling him her baby. Apparently whatever had happened to her over the course of the day had left her more emotionally unstable than usual.
Remembering Megs’s accusation that he’d left her alone to deal with their families, Tom crossed the room to greet Alistair. Clasping his right hand firmly and sneakily guiding his shoulders with the left, he led Alistair and Donna to the table.
“You have no freaking idea what it took to get here,” Alistair said, indicating his story of intrigue and terrible decisions was to follow.
“We don’t, Al. But we’re sure glad you’re here. Let me get a plate started for you.” Tom heaped food onto a dish, knowing that if Alistair’s mouth was full, he’d be less likely to embarrass Megs.
She squeezed Tom’s hand under the table.
Once again he got the strange feeling that even though they might have unlimited hours in this day, there wasn’t enough time to fix everything that needed fixing, to say everything they needed to say.
But this day wasn’t over yet.