Page 108 of My Best French Wedding

“Yes,” Walter agreed, though he wasn’t entirely sure what they were talking about. “Do you have a minute? I was hoping we could chat.”

“You too?” Robbie sighed. “I mean, yeah. No problem.” He gestured at the empty place setting across the table. Most of the other guests had been whisked away on a boat cruise, or kayaking if they wanted something more athletic, so they had the place to themselves.

“How are you holding up?” Walter asked, watching Robbie reach for the dish of sugar cubes before changing his mind.

“Good.” Robbie sipped his black coffee, wincing a little. “You can just dive right in, you know. I don’t need the whole warm-up.”

“I’m sorry?” Walter’s best guess was that Hildy must have already spoken to Fiona.

“You want to give me some man-to-man advice, right?” Robbiecalmly sliced his melon into bite-size pieces. “Before I get married. And become a man.”

The “disguise” suddenly made sense. “I take it you’ve been getting a lot of that?”

Robbie nodded. “Mostly about investment strategies.”

“I wouldn’t be the one to speak on that.”

“Sometimes it’s about other things.” Robbie speared a piece of melon with his fork. “Holidays. In-laws. Gift-giving. Communication styles. Sex.”

“That’s… very personal.”

“Yeah. I didn’t know Pastor Chris had it in him. But I guess he hears a lot of stuff, from counseling married couples.”

On balance, Walter thought he’d prefer advice about the stock market.

“And then I feel bad,” Robbie continued, dabbing his mouth with a napkin, “because they don’t know about the—” He glanced behind him before mouthing the words “secret wedding.” “It’s like I’m being dishonest even though I’m not saying anything.”

“A lie of omission.”

Robbie looked impressed. “I guess that’s part of your job, knowing the words for everything.”

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Improving my vocabulary?” Robbie grimaced at the prospect of adding yet another item to his Becoming a Man checklist.

“Keeping secrets,” Walter corrected. “Maybe there’s a way you don’t have to feel bad.”

“That sounds nice. Between you and me”—he pointed his fork at Walter—“I’ve been a little worried we got caught up in a moment and it snowballed. Me and Fee tend to get excited about stuff and go all in, like ‘yes, let’s do this!’ And then later we look at each other like, ‘wait, why did we think we wanted a hydroponic garden?’ It’s a lot of work. And you have to keep doing it, over and over.”

Walter nodded. That tracked with what he knew about gardening—and Robbie and Fiona.

“And that’s fine if it’s something we do with our balcony,” Robbie continued. “We can change our minds. There will still be tomatoes in the world. But with the wedding, people came all this way. They’re going to be disappointed.” He looked to Walter for confirmation.

“There could still be tomatoes. Figuratively speaking.” It seemed best not to linger on that moment of brilliance, so Walter hurried on. “Let’s look at the big picture. As someone who’s been to a lot of these things the last few years, I’ve had some realizations about weddings, and relationships, and priorities. There are parts that seem important in the moment that don’t matter in the long run.” He broke off when Robbie raised his hand. “Yes?”

“So youaregiving me life lessons?”

“I’m building to something concrete.”

“Oh, good!” Robbie sent a longing look at the breadbasket.

“Why don’t you have a piece, with some of this fresh butter?”

“Is that the advice?”

“It’s nottheadvice. That was more of a general suggestion. Don’t deny yourself things you really, really want.”

“As in this actual bread or is that another metaphor?”