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“Which will lookincredibleon drone footage,” Mia says without missing a beat. “And I assume yours will be in a castle, Ice Queen?”
“Château de Villette,” Billie confirms. “It’s going to be cinematic.”
I glance between the two of them, laughing into the rim of my glass. “Are either of you planning to let me make a single decision about my wedding?”
“Of course,” they say in unison, and I expect nothing less.
“I want to get married in the same place my brother did in Cozy Creek—it was gorgeous. On top of the mountain this fall.”
Mia leans forward, swiping through her notes. “This is perfect. A fall wedding. Oh my gourd!”
“Oh, stop,” I tell her.
“You’re a key part of Bellamore, Harp. Your wedding has brand equity. We can’t just leave it to chance. I mean, do you want a dress reveal that breaks the internet or not?”
It’s ridiculous. It’s excessive. It’s us. And it feels damn good.
Laughter escapes me as I glance at my best friend. Billie and I have built something bigger than a fashion house. Bigger than the brand. This feels like a celebration of surviving everything that tried to break us, and we did it in designer heels with a custom color palette.
“Harp wants something timeless,” Billie adds. “And a man who looks at her like she’s his whole world. Which she has. Other than that, she doesn’t care.”
That sobers me a little. Not in a bad way, just in the way simple truth always does. I glance down at my ring, replaying how Brody proposed to me and how his eyes sparkled only for me. The firepit is still in Tennessee, but the warmth of that night hasn’t faded. I can still feel it in my chest every time I breathe.
Billie tosses a swatch in my lap. It’s light-rose-gold satin, soft and expensive. “Thoughts for bridesmaid dresses?”
I run my fingers over the fabric. “If we’re being dressed like champagne, I’m in.”
Mia lifts her glass. “Cheers to that.”
Laughter spreads through the space like silk, and it feels so easy.
As I look around, I know the storm is over and our wounds are healing. Eventually, everything that happened will be a distant memory, a scar that’s forgotten. After it’s all said and done, we’re women who bled for what we built, and now we’re planning new beginnings.
Mia’s phone buzzes, and she excuses herself with a dramatic eye roll. She mumbles something about a campaign asset that can’t wait until Monday, even though it definitely could. Billie watches her leave with a smirk, then turns back to me with a little sigh, sinking deeper into the couch.
For a moment, neither of us says anything.
The room goes quiet in that rare, gentle way it only does between people who are best friends. We’ve never needed words either.
The sunlight slants lower across the table, catching the edge of my ring again. I twist it on my finger because I still can’t believe it’s real.
“She suits this place,” Billie finally says, nodding toward the door Mia just walked through. “You picked the perfect person for the job.”
I set my glass on the table that’s holding our swatches. “Mia’s terrifyingly competent. I used to think she’d burn out in six months. Nope, she’s as obsessed as us.”
Billie glances over at me. “She’s a great asset.”
I lean back in my chair. “Do you ever look around and wonder how the hell we got here?”
“All the time,” she says. “Especially after having two glasses of champagne before noon.”
I study the way she’s relaxed. It’s in her posture, in the softness around her eyes. She still looks like she could cut through a boardroom with nothing but her tone and stilettos, but today, she also looks like someone who let herself believe in something again.
“I almost gave up on all of this,” I admit, my voice lower now. “Not just love. Everything. The company. The idea that I could still be someone outside of the bad that happened.”
Billie’s expression shifts, and she’s not surprised, just intrigued.
“I did give up,” she admits. “A few times actually. But you … you never let me disappear. You never let me forget who I was.”