28 - Wedding Stressed

"Come on, babe," Marty groaned, following his fiance out of the kitchen. "That's not what I meant!"

"Well, it certainly sounds that way to me," the musician cried, her Southern accent coming to the fore in her current state of aggitation like it always did. "You basically just said that I'm not pullin' mah weight in the wedding plannin', Martin!"

"I was just reminding you that we still have a lot of things to do before the wedding," he explained, trying to keep his temper in check. Andy could be so infuriatingly stubborn at times. "I mean, we still haven't finished hammering out the final details with the manager of the Hilton on the ballroom, and you want to take off with Lexie and the band to Los Angeles for almost an entire week?"

"First off, it's four days, not an entire week. Second, we're going to be performing on Conan O'Brien," she corrected, spinning around on a heel to point her index finger directly in in face. "And thirdly, I said we didn't have to get the ballroom at the Hilton, but it was you who insisted on it. So don't be tryin' to pin that on me!"

"I only insisted because I thought that's what you wanted!"

"And now we're back to it being mah fault, huh?"

"Don't put words in my mouth, Andrea!"

"Ah, I can't talk to you right now," the blonde shouted, once more turning away. "Leave me alone!"

"Fine, then I'll just go for a walk," Marty screamed back, finally losing his temper. He stalked towards the door, grabbing his coat along the way. "I'll come back as soon as you're done being a freaking psychopath!"

"Oh, go to hell, you condescending prick!" Andy shouted as the door slammed shut.

About ninty minutes later found a now slightly less angry but still fairly annoyed Marty several blocks from his and Andy's usual haunt, the Comet Club, in favor of some pub called O'Malley's. After briefly wondering at why almost every Irish pub he'd ever been in started with an 'O', Marty entered and grabbed himself a stool near the bar.

A slim looking woman with black hair, obviously the bartender, stopped in front of him. "What'll you have?"

"You got Rickard's Red?" Marty asked.

"Coming right up," she nodded.

"Thanks," he muttered, his fingers drumming on the hardwood while awaiting the bartender to return with his drink. He began to reach for his wallet to money to pay for his drink when the bartender returned, only to have the dark haired woman shake her head at him.

"On the house," she simply stated before walking away.

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Marty gave a little shrug then brought the bottle up to his lips to take a long swig. He leaned forward with his elbows against the polished wooden bar counter, the beer bottle held lazily in one hand as his brown eyed gaze fell on the many liquors that lined the walls in display. In between the bottles of Wild Turkey and Captain Morgan a familiar figure caught his attention in the mirror's reflection, who quickly noticed the architect as well, much to Marty's chagrin. Damn it, just what I need.

"Well, if it isn't the groom-to-be himself," Tristan greeted, their eyes meeting in the mirror. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Go away, Dugray," Marty warned, the half empty beer bottle near his lips once again. "I am not in the mood for your particular brand of bullshit right now."

His fiance's ex-boyfriend snorted. "When are you ever in the mood for it, Harrison?" The blonde man sat in the stool next to Marty, waving the bartender over. "I'll have what he's having please."

"Sure thing," the dark haired woman nodded, then motioned to Marty. "You want another?"

Marty glanced at his nearly empty bottle in surprise before nodding in response. When she returned with the beers, Tristan handed her a twenty and told her to keep the change. The bartender thanked him and walked away, the two men now left to share a relatively awkward quiet between them.

"Andy's pretty upset," Tristan stated after a long pause. "Lexie texted me to come find you."

"What happens between my fiance and myself is none of your business," Marty replied in annoyance. "And I'd appreciate it if you kept your mouth shut about her because I haven't forgotten what you tried to do the last time you were here, Dugray. And I'm not against taking my bad mood out on you right now."

"Guess that's fair enough," the other man nodded as though remembering his failed attempt to win back Andy two years earlier. "But if I may be so bold to remind you, Andy did choose you back then, remember?"

"Where's Rory tonight?" Marty asked, desperate to change the subject.

"Your guess is as good as mine," he shrugged. "Probably hanging out with her new roommate."

Marty quirked an eyebrow at that. "She has a new roommate?"

"Yeah, some girl from Florida named Sarah," clarified Tristan with a chuckle. "They look a lot alike, too. Almost like sisters with those incredible blue eyes of theirs."

"Huh," the architect grunted, uncomfortably guilty for not knowing what was going on lately in his friend's life. He'd been so caught up in planning his wedding to Andy that Marty had neglected his friendship with Rory. Then again it wasn't like he was the only one to blame for that happening. The reporter had done the same, neither of them making contact with the other since the engagement party almost three weeks ago. He frowned at that realization. Has it really been three weeks? Damn.

"She's in love with you," said Tristan, his sudden statement reminding Marty that his former rival for Andy's affections was still seated beside him. "You know that, right?"

"Well, I should certainly hope so," Marty scoffed, assuming that the blonde man had returned to the subject of Andy. "Seeing as we're getting married in a few weeks."

"You're an idiot, Harrison," a visibly frustrated Tristan sighed, finishing his beer. "An extremely lucky idiot, but still an idiot." He stood up, his steely blue gaze meeting Marty's confused brown. "And I can't help but envy the hell out of you right now. How sad is that?"

Without saying another word Tristan walked out of the pub to leave a perplexed Marty seated by himself. After a brief moment Marty chose to disregard Dugray's words and just head home to see if Andy had cooled off from their argument. He dropped a five dollar bill on the counter before exitting through the door Tristan had gone. When Marty arrived home to an almost completely darkened townhouse, he immediatly began to get worried.

"Babe?" Marty called out. "Where are you?"

"She's up in your guys' bedroom," Lexie answered from atop the landing, silhouetted against the hallway light coming from upstairs.

"How is she?" Marty asked.

"She's pretty pissed at me," the band manager sighed, her expression one of guilt. "You know, for causing your argument and all." Then added under her breath. "Sorry about that."

"It's not your fault, Lex," he said. "This has been building for a while and we were overdue for an argument sooner or later. Wedding planning stress is a bitch."

"Remind me never to get married," she joked, descending the stairs. "I'm going to head home. I'll see what I can do about re-scheduling the Conan gig in the morning."

"No, don't do that," Marty shook his head. "At least, not until I talk it over with Andy."

"Both of you are lucky that I love you guys so much, or I would have ditched you crazy kids a long time ago," smirked Lexie, now close enough to lay a hand on his shoulder. "Go check on our girl, Harrison. Good night."

"Good night," he returned with a nod. The architect let out a breath to help gather his resolve before beginning the trek upstairs to the bedroom he shared with his fiance, where Marty found the gorgeous blonde musician gazing out the window. "Hey."

Andy turned to him with a weak smile on her lips. "Hey."

Marty dropped his gaze, unable to see her so down. "How are you doing?"

"Honestly? I feel like an asshole," she stated, her answer surprising Marty enough that he couldn't help but meet her gaze again. Andy took a step towards him, her lithe arms brought up to hug herself as though she was cold. "You were right earlier. I haven't been pulling my weight in this wedding planning stuff. While you've been busting your butt with the caterers and photographers, dealing with our demented families and all that other important stuff, what have I been doing? Nothing, that's what," she muttered bitterly. "I've just been carrying on like nothing's going to change. I mean, just this morning I did an interview with Spin instead of meeting you for that wine tasting thing. And before that, I've been completely too caught up with my career to actually listen to you about the Hilton ballroom." Her green eyes shone with unshed tears, an earnest expression displayed on her face. "Which is another thing you were right about, by the way. I really do want the reception held there."

"Andy," Marty began, not comfortable with how his fiance was blaming their entire argument on herself. "Look, you're not-"

"I've been a real shitty fiance as of late," the straw haired woman interupted, index finger pressed on his lips to prevent Marty from continuing. "But that crap ends now. From here on out I promise to start pulling my weight, but if I start to slack again, Martin, I need you to promise that you'll call me on it, okay?"

Marty reached up and grasped her hand within his own, then let out a small breath before continuing. "We could postpone if you want, Andy. Because if it feels like I'm rushing you, we can postpone everything." He kissed her hand. "It doesn't matter to me when I marry you, just knowing that it will happen is enough for me."

"You'd really do that for me, wouldn't you?" Andy asked, a couple of tears tumbling from her green eyes down her cheeks. She shook her head. "No, don't postpone the wedding. You've already sacrificed so much for my dream since we got together." The blonde smiled. "I know about the Dallas offer, Martin. And I love you so much for giving up that huge promotion in order for us to stay in Chicago."

"The huge bonus I got instead bought the down payment on this house, so I think it all worked out for the best," he joked weakly.

"Yes, I suppose it did," she agreed, leaning up to kiss him softly. "Fight over?"

"Fight over," Marty confirmed with a nod.

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