“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.”
I giggle. “Come on … of everything we’ve asked him to do, having him in our wedding party is what you’d take issue with?”
The corner of his mouth kicks up. “Let me think about it.”
“Okay.” I pause. “What about you? Who are you going to ask?” Even if Scott were alive, he wouldn’t be welcome at the wedding, let alone invited to stand next to Henry at the ceremony.
He frowns. “Why did you say it like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like I don’t have any friends.”
“You mean besides female models you’ve slept with?” Henry has business associates, guys he golfs with while discussing investment opportunities and takeover strategies. I have never—not once—heard him talk about a friend.
“I have male friends, too, Abbi. Several very good ones that I’ve kept since boarding school.”
“Really?”
He smirks. “I’m not the loner you obviously think I am.”
“I never thought you were a loner. A workaholic with intimacy issues, yes—ow!” I squeal as he pinches my pinky toe. “Why haven’t I met any of them?” Why hasn’t he even mentioned one?
“They live all over the world.”
“Didn’t they come to your father’s funeral?” Isn’t that what good friends do?
“Preston was there, briefly. He flew in from London and left the same day. It wasn’t the right time to introduce you two, though. Warner and Merrick were in the Australian outback on an expedition. They wouldn’t have been able to make it back in time, anyway, but I told them not to cut their vacation short.”
Henry is marrying a woman and he’s never introduced her to his friends for their seal of approval? Isn’t that like a rite of passage? All this proves is that I still have so much to learn about my future husband. “Tell me about them.”
Henry rolls his chair closer. “What do you want to know?”
I shrug as I nudge my free foot into the crevice between his legs, feeling the weight of his balls against my toes. “Anything.”
“Anything. Let’s see … Preston is a Brit. He lives in London and runs a two hundred-billion-dollar hedge fund firm—”
“Wow,” I mouth. I have no idea what a hedge fund firm does, but the dollar figure is impressive.
“Don’t say that to him. His head is already too big for his shoulders. Warner’s from Spain, but he currently lives in Dubai, building skyscrapers and chasing after married women.”
I wince. “That’s … not charming.”
“No, and he’s going to pay for it eventually. He wants what he can’t have. Though to be fair, he usually gets what he shouldn’t be able to have. He’s a bit of a rake, but he has always been a good friend to me.” He gives my calf a playful squeeze. “Merrick is … Merrick. He’s not the easiest guy to get close to, but once you do, count yourself lucky. He’s always had my back, no questions asked.”
“Where does he live?”
“California, but he’s been in Vegas for a while, opening a new hotel and casino.”
“That’s not far away. You could have made time for him.” And Merrick could have made time for Henry. Alaska is a straight flight north.
Henry’s brow furrows. “Yeah, he’s been busy with family shit.”
“So, basically your friends are like you.” Filthy rich, complicated men who sleep around.
“Nobody’s like me, babe.” Humor dances in his voice.
“True.” I giggle. “Are any of them married? Besides Warner, obviously.”
“No wives, no kids. No commitments beyond work.”
Which means a lot of fuck buddies. I hum with disappointment. It would have been nice to have wives or girlfriends to connect with. “What do they think about you getting married?”