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I bite down on my bottom lip because I think Julian might always do something.
“Christian sends his love.” Henry nods with a smile. “Can’t wait to celebrate soon.”
“Okay.” I frown.
“How about these light fixtures?” Henry nods at the ceiling. “Spiff, man.”
He’s trying to change the subject.
“Have you seen the pool yet?” BJ asks him, leading him away.
Bridget watches them leave before stepping over to me.
“You’re worried?”
I purse my lips. “He’s done something.”
“Christian?”
I give her a steep look. “Julian.”
“Have you spoken to him?”
I scowl at her for thinking that I just casually chit-chat with my exes all the live-long day.
“No.” Then I give her a demure shrug. “He did send us flowers to say congratulations though.”
She stares at me for a few seconds and then links her arm with mine, resting her head on my shoulder.
“I can’t believe you’re marrying him. Finally.”
“I know.”
“Remember your first date?”
I nod.
“And you were so miffed at him because I was wearing Sketchers to the party when you said I couldn’t wear them and he said I was the kind of girl who could wear whatever I wanted?”
I nod, smiling at her. I was so mad.
Mad that she was in Sketchers, mad that someone fucking bought her Sketchers, mad that he took her side, mad that it made me like him more.
“Who the fuck wears Sketchers to the Four Seasons?” I scowl.
She raises her hand, all smarmy and annoying.
I glance down at her feet.
“And look how far you’ve come in those little Prada Monolith brushed leather boots.” I beam at her.
“You don’t need to say the rest of what I’m wearing—” She gives me a curt look as she walks out of the room. “It’s fine. I don’t care—”
I scoff at her.
“Logo-embroidered tank top from Marine Serre, RE/DONE Stove Pipe high-rise jeans and the slogan-motif cardigan from Stella McCartney,” I call after her.
“You’re ridiculous,” she tells me without looking back.
