Page 109 of Ungodly Rich

“Poor Hermes,” Zeus said, without an ounce of actual sympathy. “He’s gotten rather soft lately, hasn’t he?”

Hera was surprised by the observation. “Doesn’t matter. It was too little, too late.”

She climbed back onto the bed, and Zeus pulled her atop him, so that she was straddling his torso. “You know, we should do this more often.”

“Break up weddings?” she joked.

“I meant spend all afternoon naked in a hotel room.” His hands skimmed up and down her bare torso. “Where will you be next week?”

It was hard to think with Zeus touching her like this, but Hera made a show of considering. “I’ll be in New York, dealing with the aftermath of this canceled wedding.”

“I have a better idea. The second the weather clears, we should fly out of the country. What about Antigua? Or that château you love in the French countryside, the one where we rowed across that lake and ate a picnic on the island?”

Hera was touched that he remembered. That trip to the Loire Valley had been years ago.

“I’ll go anywhere with you,” she murmured, meaning it.

Zeus nodded. “Good. Let’s go everywhere, together.”

As they fell back onto the bed, Hera swore she could feel it—the tectonic plates of their marriage shifting, allowing for new honesty, a new trust between them. A new beginning, after all this time.

Chapter Forty-Four

Julia

Valentine was right. The storm had only gotten worse.

Julia stood alone in the lounge area, near the windows that overlooked the gardens. Water slammed viciously against the glass, and every few minutes, thunder cracked overhead, so loud that it made her jump a little. It was midafternoon, but the sky was pitch-dark, occasionally split with flashes of lightning like jagged wounds.

She didn’t mean to linger at the window like this, moping over her canceled wedding. She had just needed a minute of silence. She’d been sitting with Abby for too long, talking circles around this whole disaster, trying without success to figure out a solution.

“Julia?”

She turned to see Harry approaching. He held a bottle of champagne in one hand, and in the other, a slice of chocolate cake on a scalloped-edged plate. He led Julia toward an alcove in the corner of the room, tucked away from everyone else. Bemused, she followed.

“Sorry that I left you with Abby for so long. I was trying to—well, I was trying to fix things. Then I decided to bring you this.” Seeing herconfusion about the cake, Harry added, “I asked Nicole if we could dig into the wedding cake, but Frances isn’t here, so this was the best I could do.”

Julia let out a strangled laugh at the absurdity of his statement. Was her fiancé seriously apologizing because the pastry chef they had planned to fly down from Manhattan couldn’t make it? That was just one of the thousand small things that would be wasted about this wedding. What about all the food—the oyster shooters with lemon foam, the lump crab bites on toast, the tiny servings of lemon sorbet arranged on those little spoons? What about all the custom paper cocktail napkins, printed withHarry & Juliaand their wedding date?

So much waste, she thought. All for a wedding that wouldn’t happen.

“Champagne,” she intoned as Harry set two glasses down on a side table—had he been carrying those the whole time? “In victory, one deserves it; in defeat, one needs it.”

“Napoleon,” Harry said. She looked over, surprised that he recognized the quote, and he shrugged. “I had my issues with the man, but he was right about wine, at least.”

Harry must have been as tired as she was, because from the way he’d spoken, he’d made it sound like he’d beenfriendswith Napoleon. Again, Julia was struck by the urge to laugh, a laugh that might all too easily turn into a sob. Her emotions felt fragile, as if she were a water balloon and might burst at any moment.

“Anyway, I’m not sure I would call this a defeat.” Harry deftly peeled the foil from the champagne bottle. The cork emerged with a hiss, and he poured the wine into their glasses, bubbles dancing lightly to the surface. “I think we’re still celebrating, don’t you? Celebrating that we’re here, and safe, and we have all these cases of wine that are rapidly going bad, since they’re stored in wine lockers that don’t have power.”

“It’s okay,” Julia started to assure him, but Harry gave a bitter laugh.

“It’s really not. I think my parents might have…” He trailed off without saying more.

“Might have what? Deliberately planned our wedding when they knew a storm was coming? This isn’t anyone’s fault, Harry.” Julia placed a hand on his arm.

Harry looked like he was going to say something else, then shook his head and handed Julia one of the glasses, brimming with champagne. “Well, we might as well have a glass while it’s still cold enough to enjoy.”

Julia took a slow sip. The champagne, crisp and bright with a subtle aftertaste of honey, brought her back to that long-ago night in Queenstown when they had ordered champagne. Back before she knew who Harry was.