Chapter 7
On Friday, they rehearse on the rolling emerald lawn behind the resort.
Danny gives a thumbs-up to Eve in her running shorts as she processes down the aisle with her stand-in bouquet (reusable water bottle).
The whole time, three black-clad videographers from Miravelle, the agency Chloe hired, rotate around and around.
At one point, the actual wedding photographer has a hushed fight with one of them.
Everyone is determined to pretend they don’t hear.
Smiles remain plastered. The cameras never stop rolling.
The welcome drinks take place by the pool.
They’re serving his-and-hers-themed cocktails.
His is a paper plane. Hers is a French blonde.
Eve is busily chatting with Shannon, so Danny offers to go get all three of them drinks.
Unfortunately, this positions Danny alone in the bar line just as the Olsen parents descend.
“Daniel,” Cecilia says.
Danny turns. He tries to hype himself up.
He imagines saying, “Hey, so great to see you, but I thought I should probably mention that you always call me Daniel but technically my legal name is Danny! Just Danny! That’s all it says on the birth certificate!
” And then they would all laugh and no one would ever bring it up again. But shucks—Danny’s a coward.
“Mrs. Olsen!” he says. “You look so nice. That’s a lovely dress.”
“Oh, isn’t that sweet,” Cecilia says to Phillip, as if to settle a conversation from some prior moment. Is Danny the kind of person who could not say something sweet? Danny? The man who cannot even assert his own name?
“Quite the weekend,” Phillip says. “You must be thrilled about the app. I read about the funding round.”
“Julian did a great job,” Danny says.
“Your parents must be especially proud of you.”
It’s the emphasis on the word especially.
Your parents must be especially proud because they can’t have expected much from you.
Danny imagines how it would feel to say, “Just my dad, actually, but alas! He loves me regardless of my merit.” But he loves Eve and he loves Julian.
So he is doing his best to be stuck with these people for the rest of his life. He just smiles.
“Daniel, darling, I think it’s your turn to order.”
Danny does. He gets a beer for Shannon and a wine for Eve and a paper plane for himself.
“Sampling the menu?” Cecilia says.
“For Shannon and Eve.”
“Only joking.”
Danny collects his drinks. He feels awkward holding all three of them; awkward not knowing how to say goodbye.
When he was with Kyra, they used to take the train to Philadelphia, where she grew up.
They would arrive on a Friday night with their backpacks of toiletries, and Kyra’s parents would cook them a dinner of spaghetti and sauce out of a jar.
Her father would offer him a can of Yuengling.
Kyra’s younger siblings, all four of them, would trickle in and out of the house without warning.
Everyone would clean up, and then they’d all migrate to the old corduroy couch and watch the latest sitcom to arrive on the latest streaming service.
Kyra’s mom would get up every five minutes to get everyone tea, some cookies, an extra blanket.
It was so boring, and Danny had been so grateful to be allowed to be part of it.
As Eve’s parents smile placidly back at him and his three drinks, Danny wonders if he will ever be part of this family, really. If they will ever allow him to belong. He co-owns their son’s company. He is dating their daughter.
“Well, I better get these back,” Danny says, lifting the drinks.
Phillip says, “Okay,” chuckling, as if Danny has said something funny. Or, perhaps, as if the joke is just Danny.
Danny doesn’t see Eve and Shannon. He ducks his head and makes his way to a small table, partially concealed in ferns, by the pool. There, he sets down the drinks, lowers the brightness on his phone, and opens Pattern.
Bug: Hi hi! How’s it going?
Danny: I think Eve’s parents hate me.
Bug: But Danny! Who would hate you?
Danny: The people at the coffee shop when I order something too complicated.
Investors who want us to sell user data to advertisers.
Jeremy, from eleventh grade, because I accidentally went to prom with the girl he was in love with.
Nate, from sophomore year of college, because I didn’t let him cheat on my exam and then he failed and had to retake the class and he called me a narc even though I didn’t know he was trying to cheat on my exam and, frankly, I probably would have let him.
My mom. Anyone who believes Eve deserves better.
Bug: I see now I should not have asked that rhetorical question. It seems like there are a lot of complicated feelings about parents going around. Want to tell me more about that?
Danny: Eve and Julian’s parents just have impossible standards for their kids. And I am definitely not who they want for Eve.
Bug: In your view, who do they want for Eve?
Danny: Someone smarter than me. Someone who comes from a better family.
Bug: Based on your conversation history with Eve, you focus more on money and status than Eve does.
My analysis suggests that these concerns are more of an impediment to the future of your relationship on your end than Eve’s.
My advice is that you shouldn’t let this get in the way!
Keep being polite to Eve’s parents, but don’t let them discourage you. Does that help?
“Hey, Danny! Why are you hiding behind this plant?”
Danny immediately locks his phone screen as his old college friend Brandon moves one of the ferns aside to join him by the pool.
Brandon also studied computer science and then went to Silicon Valley to work for Apple.
He is six foot eight and looks down at Danny with his arresting, unblinking blue eyes.
When Danny and Brandon first became friends, Julian said, “He’s such a good dude, but man, we simply cannot stand next to him. ”
“Do I look like I’m hiding?” Danny says.
“For sure. Very clandestine.”
“Oh,” Danny says. “That’s what I told my barber I was going for this week. Give me something clandestine.”
“Hey, cheers to the launch, man. You have a freemium model now, yeah?”
Danny explains that freemium offers a relationship analysis, score, and five thousand weekly words of chat with Bug.
The paid subscription offers feedback (“You don’t communicate well when you’re hungry!
”), suggestions (“Have you considered getting her tickets to stand-up for Christmas?”), and unlimited chat.
“Will there be tiers?” Brandon asks. “Like, if I pay for a platinum subscription, will you tell me about my partner’s chats with Bug? Will you tell me if my situationship is still going on dates with other people?”
“We’re still trying to figure out some of the details,” Danny says. “But basically, no. We don’t want to share so much that users feel like they can’t trust the app.”
“That’s good. I keep telling my boyfriend we should get on, but he’s technophobic. He thinks his phone is spying on him.”
“I’m surprised you two can get along.”
Brandon laughs. “You know, on paper, we shouldn’t.” He glances over his shoulder, and Danny follows his gaze to the bar, where Gigi and Julian are clinking champagne flutes in front of the content crew to get the perfect shot. “They kind of are perfect for each other.”
“You think so?”
“Who but a professional influencer would’ve been okay with her wedding becoming an ad? But they both look really happy.”
“They’re a one hundred,” Danny says. “In the app. Like, they are a perfect hundred.”
“Do you genuinely believe that?”
“I look up to them, if that makes sense. Like, I wouldn’t want what they have, but also—I don’t know that I know anyone else as happy as them.
And once you see that that’s possible, you know you can raise your standards for your own life.
Does that make sense? That’s part of what I wanted to do with Pattern. ”
Brandon laughs. Shakes his head. “Fuck,” he says. “You know, I was going to try to poach you this weekend.”
“From my own company?”
Brandon tells Danny about his new start-up—green tech with a good profit model but a bad habit of unsuccessfully explaining their product offering.
He talks about how good the team is, and how he loves SF, and how nice it is to focus on something to do with climate.
But then he says, “So, yeah. We need more engineers, and I was going to try to convince you to come out, but now I’m remembering that you and Julian are actually my favorite couple. ”
“He’s my best friend,” Danny says, shrugging.
“And I’m no home-wrecker,” Brandon says.