The Best Man Holiday

---

Robyn?

Will you marry me?

Yeah.

I want to make

love to you tonight.

Don't be scared, Murch!

I just thought we had

a connection back there.

We are doing what we must

to build a school where we

can really teach excellence.

And that's really

what I wanted to do.

Who was that pop-tart?

Shelby, it's over.

Oops.

I am a pimp.

So my future looks mighty

bright, thank you very much.

A long, long, long time ago,

Mia slept with your best man.

I could've killed you last night.

I still could right now.

It wouldn't change anything.

You can hate me forever, man.

But not Mia.

She loves you so much.

Man, you're staring

your ideal woman in the face.

You two are made

for each other.

Daddy's on! Daddy's on!

Let's go down to the

field and start with Pam Oliver.

Wow, Lance,

another 100-plus yards.

That all-time

record is in your sights.

Yeah, it's nice,

but the win is better.

You are fighting for

your playoff lives.

How much pressure do you feel

to perform at a high level?

You know what,

it's no pressure at all.

I love football, but it's my job.

It's not life or death.

I just continue to do my best with

what God gave me, that's all.

- Congratulations. Appreciate it.

- Thanks a lot.

All right, y'all?

And back to you

guys in the studio.

Baby's still breech.

This one is determined to come

out feet or buttocks first.

Everything looks

okay though, right, Doc?

Mmm-hmm. But we need to

schedule a C-section.

It's just safer.

There goes my Sports

Illustrated swimsuit cover.

Airbrush.

- You're due...

- New Year's Eve.

Right.

Great way to celebrate.

And you're still working?

Yeah, she's on her

feet a lot, so...

Is there cause for concern?

Not really,

but given your history,

I'd err on the side of caution.

You're not saying

bed rest, right?

Look, if that's

what it takes, then...

Nothing like that.

Just, if you can, see if you can

take your maternity leave now.

It's nesting time.

Look, it's been

a long journey, you guys.

We are almost there.

HARPER; Oh.

It's the baby.

Oh, hey. Um.

We got another

invitation from Mia.

Ah. I guess she really

wants us there.

Maybe we should go.

Oh, so now you're

interested in going, huh?

It's not my first choice for a holiday

weekend, but it might be fun.

Especially for you.

You've been so

preoccupied with your book.

Yeah.

It'd be good for you

to be with your friends.

Yeah.

Might be a cause

for celebration.

Well, let's not get

ahead of ourselves.

Never that.

Always the pessimist.

Well, that's why

I married an optimist.

I can't sell this.

What? Why not?

Well, because nobody's buying it.

And I've tried everybody.

And I mean nothing.

All right, well, can we self-publish?

Harper, I don't even think

your loyal fans want this.

If they even know you're alive.

You don't even tweet,

for Christ's sakes.

Come on, Stan,

you know I hate that shit.

Harper, people have the attention

span for 140 characters,

not 140 characters.

Look. You're only as

good as your last book.

And that was a mild hit back

when Obama was first elected.

Senator Obama.

We need another one of these.

Millions sold.

Months on the New York Times

bestseller list. Months! Look.

"It's groundbreaking.

Sexy, funny, smart. "

And not just

"black people" smart.

You set a very

high bar here, Harper.

Look at that guy.

Vibrant, handsome, hair.

What happened to him?

NYU just laid me off.

Jesus Henry Christ.

When it rains, it pours.

Yeah.

I haven't told Robyn yet.

Why not?

Was there a scandal?

Was it a young, nubile...

Shit.

It's too bad. Sex sells.

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