They assured me that if I didn't want to, they wouldn't force me.
But I nodded firmly.
Not long after I left, Jonas sent me a message.
[Andy, come back as soon as you've thought things through.]
And then another message, a warning this time:
[But don't dare come back on my wedding day. Mitch doesn't like being disturbed.]
As if I'd go to his wedding just to make a scene.
Mitch also messaged me—a photo of my luggage dumped in a trash can.
[Andy, I've turned your room into our wedding suite. Hope you don't mind!]
I didn't bother responding to either of them. I was too busy planning my own wedding.
My parents hired the top designers to make my wedding gown and shoes.
Before I knew it, the big day arrived.
Washington is huge, but wouldn't you know it—our wedding cars crossed paths.
Jonas spotted my dad in the driver's seat of my car and immediately got out, walking over respectfully.
"Mr. Fitzgerald, whose wedding car are you driving today?"
The Fitzgeralds hold its reputation in Washington. Everyone in the business world knows Dad. Even top CEOs call him respectfully.
Jonas, as someone just gaining success in the business world, was no exception.