“I respect that. They sound like—”
“They’re my family,” I said automatically, then paused. “But yeah, they’re also…”
Saturday morning, the day of the wedding, I went to the office. We were finalizing the press release with Goldman’s communications team. The announcement would go out Monday morning at 6:00 a.m. Eastern, timed perfectly for the market open.
Raj found me at my desk at noon.
“Dude. Saturday also? Isn’t there a wedding you’re not invited to happening right about now?”
“Ceremony starts at 2,” I said. “Reception at 5.”
“And you’re here because…”
“I was uninvited. Remember? The embarrassing cousin who codes for a living.”
Raj pulled up a chair.
“You know what we should do? We should crash that wedding. Show up in matching T-shirts that say: Embarrassing Coder. Net Worth $280 Million.”
“Tempting.”
“Or, and hear me out, we could just accidentally be at the Fairmont bar during the reception. Total coincidence. If we happen to run into your family, well, these things happen.”
I looked at him.
“You want to crash my cousin’s wedding.”
“I want to support you during a difficult family situation,” Raj said innocently, “from a nearby bar, where we might be visible despite everything.”
I smiled.
“That’s incredibly petty.”
“I prefer strategically supportive. Goldman’s announcement is Monday. They’ll all know in 48 hours anyway.”
“But you won’t get to see their faces in real time,” Raj pointed out. “You’re telling me you don’t want to see your mother’s expression when she realizes her embarrassing son is worth a quarter billion dollars?”
I absolutely did want to see that, which probably said something unflattering about my character, but I was only human.
“The Fairmont bar,” I said slowly. “Completely coincidentally. Wearing our best suits. Looking very successful. Making it very clear we belong in upscale establishments.”
“Raj, come on.”
“You’ve been humble and gracious for five years. You’ve let them think the worst. Don’t you want just five minutes where they have to confront the truth?”
I thought about my mother’s voice on the phone.
“Your situation would be awkward.”
I thought about my sister’s Facebook comment.
“At least one of our generation is successful.”
I thought about five years of condescension, dismissal, and assumptions.
“Hey,” I said. “Let’s go to the Fairmont bar.”
The Fairmont Grand Hotel was exactly as pretentious as I’d expected. Marble floors, crystal chandeliers, staff in formal attire. The bar was off the main lobby, elegant and dimly lit, with leather chairs and a view of the gardens where the ceremony was presumably happening.
Raj and I settled at a corner table.
I was wearing my Tom Ford suit, the one I’d bought for the Goldman Sachs pitch meeting, and Raj had gone with Armani. We looked, if I’m honest, like we belonged there.
“Scotch?” Raj suggested. “Seems appropriately wealthy.”
“Macallan 25,” I told the waiter.
Raj raised an eyebrow.
“Showing off a little bit?”
Through the bar’s windows, I could see the gardens, white chairs arranged in perfect rows, an arch covered in flowers that probably cost more than my first car. Guests in designer dresses and expensive suits.
My family was out there somewhere, celebrating Jessica’s perfect day with her perfect fiancé and his perfect hedge fund family.
And I was in the bar drinking $400 scotch, waiting for Monday morning when everything would change.
“There’s your mom,” Raj said quietly.
I followed his gaze. Mom was near the garden entrance, wearing a navy dress that I recognized from her special occasions collection. She was laughing with a woman in Chanel, probably Marcus’s mother. My father stood nearby, looking uncomfortable in his tuxedo.
“They clean up nice,” Raj observed.
“Still… but well-dressed.”
“That’s my family you’re insulting.”
“You literally just agreed they’re—”