“I’m not. I’ve got my office manager on everything until I get back. There’s nothing important enough to distract me from getting the most out of this weekend,” I reassured him.

And that was partially true. I’d landed one of the biggest and most prestigious contracts of my career before we left Chicago. Signed the paperwork on it right before I got on the plane. But as the owner of my own fledgling architecture firm, it was difficult to pull back entirely. I was gonna give it my best effort for my best friend.

I spotted my and Jared’s bags on the turnstile and grabbed them both. “Car’s waiting out front.”

The driver took us the long way around from the airport, which was fine because it was a great reintroduction to the city I came of age in. He turned on Meeting Street and drove right through the thick of it, past Marion Square, all the way down to South Battery. Charleston and its small-town charm rolled out before us. I fell in love with the city and its historic architecture all over again.

The reason why — well, one of the reasons why — I’d wanted to attend the College of Charleston was that the B.A. program had a focus on historic preservation and community planning — which was the exact mission of my firm, Son of Martin. The other reason was that it was far from Chicago and so different from the steel and concrete urban environment that I grew up in that it forced me to open my mind to new experiences.

College of Charleston was on the coast of South Carolina in Summerville. The air was hot and heavy with water, time moved slower, and even the most stressful parts of my course of study seemed like languid, dreamy days when I looked back on them now.

Driving to the MacFarland family home filled me with nostalgia as well. The palmetto trees, magnolias heavy with fragrant white blossoms, and colorful flowers that poured from the window boxes of narrow townhomes on cobblestone streets were quaint and quintessentially Southern. I rolled the window down and breathed in the mix of floral and brackish-scented air coming off the Ashley River. I could already feel that second hand slowing. This was my first vacation from my high-stress life in over a year. I was well overdue.

The wedding was on Saturday evening, but we’d flown in early because Darcy had stressed that it was important to her to spend some time with her son before the nuptials. Jared was also worried that Brandi and his mother hadn’t bonded enough…whatever that meant. But I was glad to have a little extra time on our schedule so all of the pre-wedding preparations wouldn’t feel rushed.

“Fuck,” Jared groaned while thumbing out a text.

“What’s up?”