Page 125 of The Statistically Unlikely Reunion

Lucas leans in as if to share a secret. “I’m always pining for Lorelai.”

And then he winks at Vera, and I find myself wondering again, Who is this guy? I can’t remember a single time Old Lucas winked. But as he backs away, taking the opportunity to drop a quick kiss on my shoulder, I realize that perhaps this is who Lucas was always meant to be. It’s not the wealth or position that’s changed him, just the security of knowing and believing in who he was always meant to be.

It isn’t that he didn’t use to be playful, it’s just that now he allows it to peek through more consistently.

In front of our half circle, Brody and Vi appear, stepping out of the lush foliage holding hands and dressed in their full groom-and-bride splendor: He’s in a dark-blue tuxedo with understated piping, a perfectly done-up bowtie, and velvet buckle suede dress shoes. Vi is wearing a classic ivory gown, with a strapless sweetheart neckline that cinches at her waist before flaring out into a gorgeous floor-length traditional ballgown. It’s not breaking any barriers, but it’s the perfect fairy-tale princess dress executed perfectly. Her layered hair has been half tied back so that the half veil rests there, where orchids have been woven in.

They are glowing, picture-perfect the way the cover of bridal magazines are. A photographer I hadn’t noticed steps in front to get some candid shots.

“We have a problem.”

One of the influencers shouts in response, already tipsy. “Besides inviting us all to your unwedding?” He high-fives another similarly bro-dude guy standing next to him.

“We had the most epic honeymoon planned. A fifteen-day Indonesian extravaganza: Four Seasons Jimbaran Bay in Bali, the Uluwatu Temple, full of ancient battle reenactments, cooking classes, and private yachts so you get to explore Sebayur Island, do some more extreme snorkeling. Spa treatments, the whole shebang.”

“Except now, I don’t really want to get a couples massage with my friend Brody.” Vi takes over effortlessly, and I wonder about how much of this is staged. When it’s eventually realized, it’ll likely do wonders for Vi’s social media, and Brody isn’t giving off serious politician vibes, but for all I know this is how he’ll activate younger voters.

“I told Brody he really ought to just let me have it—” She’s still holding his hand, because this is the weirdest breakup ever.

“I no longer feel incentivized to be the nice guy. And I haven’t been to Bali in years. So⁠—”

Vi reaches down for a bag I hadn’t noticed until now, which is full of those plastic bead necklaces you see at Mardi Gras parties. She takes out a purple one and lets go of Brody’s hand long enough to place a green one over his head.

“We’ve already done the coin flipping thing, and I get first pick, Vi the second and third pick, and so on⁠—”

There are groans from the audience, and Qi mutters something about the horrors of high school PE, but Brody gets our attention again by announcing, “Vi and I are obviously fighting for the honeymoon in Bali, but for you guys, the top three survivors on each team will get a $5,000 donation to the charity of your choice.”

Several of the women look down at their dresses and heels, obviously rethinking their wardrobe decisions.

They explain the rules: Three strikes and you’re out. Brody’s team will have green-paint-loaded guns, Vi’s purple. The Four Seasons has agreed to allow for all of the original wedding-booked space (the fairly open expanse of both the Luau Gardens and the dense, bordering Wailele Gardens) for our game.

“And of course, music!” Brody claps his hands, and from the corner of the lawn, the string quartet I had seen but not really processed starts playing Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries.” The reaction from the Techers is immediate; this was always the prefinals wake-up music, and you can see from the way Wendell, Qi, and the Techers clench up, they’re now having a visceral PTSD flashback. Brody claps three times, and the quartet switches to Linkin Park, which is not only a relief but kind of revelatory? Maybe “Numb” is better via strings.

“Sorry, guys, little joke.” He smiles and then looks at us. “I pick Lucas Murray.”

I’m a little surprised—I certainly don’t remember Lucas being . . . athletic, but maybe it’s for moral support?

Vi smiles and declares, “Khloe,” which is no surprise. And then, “Lorelai,” which makes my mouth hang open in that instant-meme way.

Brody turns to Vi as well, genuinely shocked. “You’re picking Lorelai?”

“I have my own strategy.”

Because I can’t think of a way out of this and because this is apparently my life now, I trudge over to Vi and allow Khloe to place a string of purple plastic beads over my dark-green suit.

We get as far as the twelfth pick before Brody turns to Vi. “Should we just let them choose? Other than stealing Lorelai—who, by the way, has no coordination—it’s pretty quickly becoming my guests versus your guests.”

“Girls versus boys!” the same influencer from before shouts.

Brody gives him an I’m disappointed in you look.

Vi gives a delicate shrug. “Why not.”

It’s pretty clearly his versus hers, but since she invited more younger people and Brody had more relatives who sat out, Vi’s team outnumbers Brody’s, 62–47.

“I could switch—” I start but am instantly cut off by a look from Vi, who apparently really wants me on her team.

Brody looks around. “Close enough.”