Of All the Taco Bells in All the Towns …

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One night in 2001, when she was just 15, Jessie Della Femina threw what was meant to be a private party at her Hamptons home. The precocious Ms. Della Femina was a fashion upstart who that summer ran a trunk show with a friend, who had diabetes, to raise money for research. She ended up with a clothing line in more than 300 stores.

“She was doing off-the-shoulder before anybody did off-the-shoulder,” the makeup entrepreneur Trish McEvoy said.

That night, three young strangers crashed her party. One was Ben Gliklich, a Horace Mann student and the son of two Manhattan doctors — “a neurotic, anxious Jewish boy from the Upper East Side,” according to his childhood friend Nathaniel Hochman.

Mr. Gliklich spotted Ms. Della Femina and said to his friends, “We’re out of our league here.”

Yet Ms. Della Femina gravitated to him immediately. By the end of the evening, she knew “he was my person,” she said. They spent the rest of the summer together.

Ms. Della Femina, even with her devil-may-care sashay, is organized and responsible. Her quirks may be the result of an upbringing with her mother, the former broadcast journalist Judy Licht, and her father, the advertising titan Jerry Della Femina, whose book, “From Those Wonderful Folks Who Gave You Pearl Harbor: Front Line Dispatches From the Advertising War,” was an inspiration for the television series “Mad Men.”

“Hyperorganization and discipline are not what Jerry and I specialize in,” Ms. Licht said.

Ms. Della Femina, who is now 31, spent a year as a child eating Campbell’s tomato soup for breakfast. She haunts tag sales on the East End for hopeless furniture and wallows in neon colors and carbohydrates, including the Asian duck pizza at World Pie in Bridgehampton. She knows what she likes, and she knew she liked Mr. Gliklich.

Despite her early foray into fashion design, she preferred home furnishings to fashion, eventually founding Jessie Della Femina Design, a residential real-estate development and home design firm in Sag Harbor, N.Y. She is also a broker for the Corcoran Group.

As thunderstruck as he felt in Ms. Della Femina’s presence when they were teenagers — “she had this precocious elegance,” he said — he broke up with her at the end of the summer. Even at the tender age of 17, he felt compelled to honor a commitment to a school-year girlfriend.

Mr. Gliklich, 32, does not make commitments casually. He grew up in a household built on structure: His parents taped over the saltshaker to discourage its use; dessert was cucumber and cantaloupe. On family vacations, they dragged him to museums. “I hated it,” he said.

But age instilled perspective: Mr. Gliklich majored in art history at Princeton.

Every time Mr. Gliklich returned home, he contacted his friends, including Ms. Della Femina. New York became a matchmaker for the couple; each time they reunited in the city or in the Hamptons, sparks flew. Yet despite the privileged New York script that they were following — private Manhattan high schools and Ivy League colleges for both — the more radical Mr. Gliklich always craved new landscapes. Ms. Della Femina, the New York loyalist, stuck to her roots.

And he was always waving goodbye. In August 2008, he left for Sydney, Australia. He needed, he said, “to rupture the umbilical cord.”

Mr. Gliklich’s parents, like Ms. Della Femina’s, are also grounded in New York. His mother, Dr. Jane Salmon, is a professor of medicine at Weill Cornell Medicine who was recently inducted into the National Academy of Medicine. His father, Dr. Jerry Gliklich, is a professor of medicine at the College of Physicians and Surgeons at Columbia University and a cardiologist at NewYork-Presbyterian.

They could not understand the wanderlust of Mr. Gliklich and his brother (who moved to California). “We asked ourselves, ‘What did we do wrong?’” Dr. Salmon said. “We were clinically depressed.”

For two years, Mr. Gliklich worked for Goldman Sachs in Australia. He traveled, dated and detailed his adventures in group emails that read like travelogues. “Sydney summer is every man’s dream woman: hot, bright and fun,” he wrote in one. “Consistent, but just wild enough to keep things interesting.”

He visited New York in 2009 for Thanksgiving and spent the weekend with Ms. Della Femina. She told her childhood friend and roommate at the time, Jamie Davidson, that if Mr. Gliklich returned to the United States, she would marry him. It was a big if. And she had no intentions of leaving New York, the font of her energy and enthusiasm.

In 2010, New York called Mr. Gliklich back. And Ms. Della Femina was there, waiting.

They couch-competed while watching “Jeopardy!” almost daily, went on food tours of the boroughs, including in Flushing, Queens, where they ate 75-cents-a-cup lo mein from a stall underneath the elevated train, and dated regularly though not exclusively.

“Immediately getting into a relationship just wasn’t what I wanted,” Mr. Gliklich said.

Early in 2012, she considered calling an end to whatever it was they had. One evening, after going to a party in Manhattan, they had words regarding where their relationship was going, and went their separate ways. At 4 a.m. Mr. Gliklich found himself the sole customer of a Taco Bell on 14th Street, at the other end of the city from where he lived. As he stood alone at the counter, he heard the door open.

Ms. Della Femina walked in. By chance. At 4 in the morning. Nowhere near where she lived either.

They sat together, their dispute forgotten, and they talked and laughed like the friends they had long been, in the city where she had always been sure they both belonged.

He suggested they take a trip from Los Angeles to San Francisco on the Pacific Coast Highway, a cliff-hugging screamer of a car ride that had Ms. Della Femina hoarse from the exhilaration. They ate Mexican food in Santa Barbara, discussed design at the Hearst Castle and marveled at the jellyfish exhibits at the Monterey aquariums. Mr. Gliklich saw what Ms. Della Femina had seen from their starting point.

In December 2015, on a day when Ms. Della Femina had planned a meeting in the Hamptons with contractors and a homeowner, Mr. Gliklich flew in from Florida, where he was working and living part time. He arrived on site with a ring tucked into a box of rainbow-colored bagels Ms. Della Femina had long wanted, all the way from the Bagel Store in Williamsburg, Brooklyn.

He said, “I love you so much,” and opened the box. “Ms. Della Femina spotted the ring wedged between the bagels and said, “I love it, I love it, I love it.”

Mr. Gliklich stood for a moment, then asked, “Is that a yes?”

Ms. Della Femina asked: When should we get married? He said: As soon as we can. Ms. Della Femina said she recalled thinking, “After 15 years, there’s a rush?”

Yet rush they did. They planned a November wedding in Palm Beach, but the Zika virus had spread to Florida. Refusing to change the date, they moved it to New York, taking only two months to plan and execute the wedding. And for a woman who at age 15 had her own clothing line, she could be forgiven for being unwilling to let just anyone design her wedding gown. Ms. Della Femina did it herself, in ivory Odessa stretch crepe with a plunging back.

Around 225 guests were in attendance on Nov. 12 as the two were married by Mr. Hochman, who became a Universal Life minister for the occasion, with Ms. Davidson assisting, at Cedar Lake Studio, an event space in Chelsea. The after-party at the Top of the Standard, also known as the Boom Boom Room, stayed true to its name as music pounded 18 floors above the meatpacking district.

In a quiet corner, the bride looked out at the city beyond the windows and said, “Everything has fallen into place.” Across the room, Mr. Gliklich, finally feeling at home in New York, stood within a circle of friends, grinned and raised his glass toward his bride. The city lights shimmered in the distance behind her, ready to embrace the couple.