"And you didn't tell me."
"I was practically in a coma. I couldn’t exactly text you the second I woke up and found out."
I feel her roll her eyes. "You were unconscious for twelve hours, Blair. That’s a nap. An aggressive nap." She hits the brakes as we approach the main gate, waiting for it to swing open. "And the baby? Is it Ryder’s or...?"
"It's Gabriel's."
Harper lets out a laugh. "Damn. You really went for it. Ryder cheats on you, so you go let his dad knock you up? Then marry the guy and become your ex’s step mom? That’s some Game of Thrones level shit. I’m obsessed with your level of petty.”
"I’m notthatpetty.”
"Girl.” She side-eyes me. “Right.It,” she takes her hands off the wheel to make air quotes, “Just happened. You randomly fell onto a billionaire's dick repeatedly."
Laughter bubbles up in my throat. It feels good. Normal.
"He makes me feel safe, Harper. I know he’s intense. I know he’s... a lot. But he’s the first person who’s ever reallygottenme.He gives me what I need before I even know I need it. And I’m not talking about money."
Harper glances over, her expression softening. "I know, B. I saw the way he looked at you when we were working on the rebrand. Like he wanted to consume you and build a shrine to you at the same time. It’s terrifying, but... I’m happy for you. If anyone deserves a guy who fits the wholetouch her and dietrope, it’s you."
We hit the highway, heading toward downtown Emerald Hills.
"So," Harper says, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. "We have an unlimited budget and a vendetta to settle. What’s the vibe?"
My gaze drops to the black card in my purse.
"Funeral chic," I say. "We're dressing for a burial."
Shoppingwith unlimited funds is a total mindfuck.
Usually, checking price tags and doing mental math to calculate how many hours of work a pair of shoes costs or figuring out how long I have to return something consumes my shopping trips. Today, I don’t even need to look at the price tags.
I mean, Ido.But I don’thaveto.
We hit the boutiques on Main Street. The sales associates, who used to look down their noses at me when I came in with Ryder—the Mulberry girl clinging to the golden boy—scramble to help when the black card makes an appearance.
It’s satisfying but it’s exhausting.
By mid-afternoon, we have the dress.
A garment bag taking up the entire backseat of Harper’s car contains the weapon of choice. Shoes that look like instrumentsof torture but make my legs look a mile long and a jewelry set worth more than the shitty trailer I grew up in sit beside it.
Harper drops me off at the gate around four, my arms piled with bags. One of the security guys takes them off my hands and brings them inside while I say my goodbyes to my bestie.
"Go rest," she orders. "You look pale. And if you pass out, your scary husband is going to murder me."
"He likes you," I assure her, climbing out.
"He tolerates me because you love me," she corrects. "There’s a difference. Love you, B. Call me if you need a getaway driver or to bury a body. I’ve got a shovel in my trunk."
Her Mini Cooper disappears down the road, leaving me alone with the massive house.
My house.
It looms against the gray sky, stone and timber and massive glass windows. It’s beautiful. Impressive.
I never thought I’d live somewhere like this.
When I walk in, I’m extra happy I’ve kept the Christmas music playing at all times through the speaker system in the downstairs so it’s not silent. This place is way too much house for just the two of us. Even when the baby comes, we could have an entire hockey team’s worth of kids and fit them all in this place.
