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“Jed’s not that bad.” Now that he’s given up on us getting back together.
“No, you’re right. We need to remember to thank him in our wedding speech for cheating on you.”
At least Henry is sounding more like himself and not that lost, forlorn man. “Whatever. Jed isn’t the problem, it’s Mama, and the best way to deal with her is face-to-face, withwitnessesso she has to weigh her words before she says them out loud.” Mama has always been good about keeping her mask on when others are around.
“You’re really selling this to me.” Henry grins. “Should be fun.”
“It’s going to bepainful. But if I don’t do this now, our wedding will be in a barn with my second cousins as bridesmaids, wearing gingham frocks, and I will be miserable by the time next spring comes.Please, Henry.”
“Relax. Of course, we’ll go. It’s your family, and it’s the right thing to do.”
“Thank you.”
He squeezes my thighs before leaning back in his seat, collecting my foot. “What are gingham frocks?”
I revel in the feel of his thumbs working over my heel. “Remember that dress Celeste Enderbey made for Daddy’s homecoming?”
“The one from the set ofLittle House on the Prairiethat I ripped off you?”
“Exactly.”
“I hated that thing.”
“Well, now imagine it made with a picnic tablecloth.”
He cringes.
“Right? Nothing I want my bridesmaids in.”
“Not even second cousins?”
“Ugh! They arenotmy bridesmaids!” As awkward as having that conversation will be, seeing as Mama’s already asked them.
He switches to kneading my other foot. “Who will you ask, then?”
I hesitate. “I was thinking about Margo. Is that crazy?”
A soft smile touches Henry’s lips. “No. I think that’s a great idea.”
“So do I.” Despite Henry’s—and my—past with her, in the short time that I’ve known her, she has become a friend like no other. She dropped everything and flew up to Alaska to comfort me during the worst ordeal of my life. If that isn’t a grand gesture of true friendship, I don’t know what is.
“Who else?”
“Autumn.” We text almost every day now.
“The concierge?”
“And my roommate.” I pause, unsure if I should broach it. “And I was thinking Ronan?”
Henry’s hands stop his ministrations as he glares at me. “That’s a joke, right?”
“Maybe?” I bite my bottom lip. “Would it be that bad, though? He is one of my best friends. And he helped save your life.”
Henry’s jaw clenches as if he doesn’t want to be reminded of that.
“I trust him like no one else. Except you, of course.”
Henry sighs with exasperation, the pressure returning to my feet with renewed force. “Only if he wears the picnic tablecloth.”
