Page 59 of Ungodly Rich

“You’re the bride,” Abby said adamantly. “It haseverythingto do with you. Well, you and Harry,” she amended, “but mostly you. If you’re not happy with Tara’s interference, then push back. You’re going to be stuck with her a long time,” Abby added softly. “You know what they say: begin as you mean to continue. Don’t let your future mother-in-law walk all over you, or she’ll keep doing so.”

“If it gets bad, I promise I’ll say something. I’m just venting right now.” Julia forced a smile. She could see how much it meant to Harry that he and his family had reconciled. The last thing she wanted was to rock the boat, at least not over something as trivial as a party.

“I’ve been meaning to bring this up, but you’ll be my maid of honor, right?” Julia asked, deliberately changing the subject.

“Thank god! I thought you’d never ask.” Abby leaned forward. “Vegas for the bachelorette? Or what about Charleston? I know you think those places are cheesy, but—”

“No bachelorette,” Julia said quickly. “I don’t want to make a fuss. Really.”

She didn’t have a bunch of girlfriends to celebrate with, anyway. Just Abby. And Harry’s family would find the whole thing unbearably tacky; she felt certain of it.

“Fine. I’m just excited to be part of your big day. But be warned, I amnotwearing a pink chiffon bridesmaid’s dress.”

“I was thinking a lime-green one, actually. With giant puffed sleeves and layered skirts,” Julia informed her, and they both laughed.

“How’s New York?” Abby asked. “Are you and Harry feeling settled yet?”

“We’re starting to. Harry’s job involves a lot of local travel, but we’re finding time to do our own thing. He took me to a rock-climbing gym a few weeks ago.” Julia hesitated. “Something weird happened there, actually. The gym’s belayer dropped my rope, and Harry saved me from falling.”

“Julia!”Abby exclaimed, so loudly that a few people glanced over from the bar. “Why didn’t you tell me! Are you okay?”

Julia tried her best to explain what had happened: how she’d been terrified, clutching at the wall, only for Harry to appear next to her when she thought he’d been yards away.

“Good thing Harry is so strong,” Abby said earnestly, and shook her head. “Saving your life, wow. It’s like you’re marrying Superman. Or one of the Jane Austen heroes you always used to gush about.”

Right, Julia told herself. Harry saving her wasn’t strange; it was swoon-worthy.

Abby turned to face the waitress who lingered awkwardly near their table, and the waitress shifted. “Oh, sorry! Another round?”

“We’re good, thanks.” Abby waited for the waitress to leave before resuming their conversation. “Honestly, though, I’m still shocked thatyourHarry is an Ellene. He’s so…”

“Grubby?” Julia supplied.

“I was going to say ‘low-maintenance,’ but yes, he was distinctly grubby when I visited you two. He wore athletic shorts with a drawstring that was so frayed, the little fibers of the drawstring kept falling all over the floor.”

Julia smiled at the observation. “That was a fun trip.”

Abby had visited her last year, ostensibly because she’d never seen New Zealand, but Julia knew she really wanted to meet the man that her best friend couldn’t shut up about. It had been a whirlwind week: the three of them went jet boating down the Dart River, drank too much in Queenstown and ate late-night pizza from a street cart, wentup to Waikato to see the Hobbit houses. It was on the long drive back, when they were engaged in a passionate debate about whichLord of the Ringsmovie was best, that Abby turned to Julia and whispered,This one is a keeper.Julia hadn’t realized until that moment just how desperately she’d hoped Abby would like Harry.

“Though to be fair,” Abby mused, “if I were a secret billionaire trying to go unnoticed, I would wear worn-out athletic shorts, too.”

Julia swirled the watery remains of her margarita. “I know Harry had his reasons for keeping it from me, but I still wish I’d known. It’s just a lot. You know, the money, the…” She waved a hand in a vague attempt to indicate the houses, the snobbery, the vast carelessness of these people who took everything for granted.

Abby sighed. “Look, Julia, I will be the first to admit that I never thought you would end up with a trust-fund guy. I always thought you would marry someone like Sam.”

“Sam?” Julia blinked, caught off guard. “We never even dated!” He’d been her best friend back in Marietta, her mainstay through middle school and high school. Even back then, Julia hadn’t been the type to seek comfort in a clique of girls.

She and Sam had remained friends through college. He’d gone to Williams and had visited Julia a few times at Harvard, to Abby’s delight. A part of Julia had always wondered if something might happen between them—until it did, and their entire relationship imploded.

“I’m just saying that you and Sam madesense,on paper at least!” Abby held out her hands in a placating gesture. “It goes to show that making sense on paper is not the foundation for a good relationship. Is he coming to the wedding, by the way?” she added.

“Sam? We haven’t kept in touch.” Julia wasn’t even sure where he was living these days.

“I wonder where he ended up,” Abby mused. “Though if we’re talking about your exes, it’s not Sam that we should focus on. It’s Preston.”

“I told you, Sam and I never dated! He’s not an ex!”

“Semantics,” Abby said airily, waving a hand. “Really, don’t you think some of your anxiety about Harry is because of Preston? You’re punishing Harry for Preston’s sins.”