But did Flip and I stop reading? Not on your life. That text thread was a box of delights.

In the first place, I was fascinated to learn that Mark opposes his sister’s wedding. Most men would be over the moon to welcome Phillipe “Flip” Dubois III to the family. My friend is both loaded and head-over-heels for Hannah. He’s a good man, and she’ll never want for anything.

He owns a full-floor condo on Park Avenue, a Mercedes E-Class, and has a membership at Maidstone. Material wealth aside, I’m here to tell anyone who asks that he cried actual tears of joy when she told him she was pregnant.

But all that’s not good enough for our boy Mark, I guess. He wrote—in shouty caps, no less—that the marriage was DOOMED LIKE THE TITANIC. I’M AFRAID FOR YOU ON THAT FLOATING DOOR.

Now that’s just dark. Besides, it’s not even a good metaphor. Everyone knows there was plenty of room for Leo on that thing. The MythBusters even proved it.

The whole ugly blowup was, however, entertaining. The next five minutes will not disappoint, either, since our buttoned-up Wall Streeter now wears the abashed look of a man who’s about to do the right thing and apologize to his sister and her fiancé.

I should probably walk away and give them some privacy. But I think I won’t.

“Hannah Banana,” Mark says in a rough voice as he approaches. “God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of it.”

His sister grabs him into a hug. “Yes, you did, Marky Mark. You meant every last excruciating thing, including the mullet comparison. And I forgive you anyway.”

“Thank you.” He groans, sounding relieved. “I just don’t handle change all that well.”

“Gosh, you think?” she asks. “I know we just sprung this on you. The baby. The wedding.”

He grunts in acknowledgment as he hugs his sister. “How can I ever make it up to you?”

She pulls out of that tight hug and looks up at her brother. “Hold that thought. Because I do have a favor to ask a little later.”

“Anything. Whatever you need. But I do need to apologize to your fiancé,” he says.

“Good. I’d appreciate that,” she says, patting his arm.

Mark obviously left the rep ties at home tonight in favor of a dress shirt in a deep blue color that makes his eyes pop. I’m such a sucker for eyes. And he’s wearing a very sharp pair of glasses that accentuate instead of hide them. His glossy dark hair is cut in an attractive style that works with the whole boss man look he’s got going on.

Fine. If I’m being objective, he looks good tonight. Hot, even. I’ve always thought so.

But he’s still a stuck-up banker who doesn’t like my BFF. And now he’s got to grovel for Flip anyway.

This should be fun.

Slowly, Mark turns toward my friend, his expression chastened. “Flip, man, I’m sorry. There was no excuse for the lack of faith I showed last night.”