Hi babes, the upcoming chapterishes are some of my faves so far!! Comment on your favorite part and let me know the exact moment you switch to team Jemmy 🤍

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HARDING & CO.

It's MDW, baby. And I'm stepping up in the world via the Hardings.

Josh and I load our bags into the trunk of his white BMW X5. I'm prepped and ready for a posh AF weekend getaway. I'm talking waxed legs, fresh wavy ombre, and killer nude mani. I hop into the passenger seat, tablet in-hand.

"Ready for this?" He asks, looking at me from the driver's side.

"Sure am. It better live up to the hype," I joke.

"Duh." Josh closes his hand over mine and squeezes it. "As co-pilot, you're on music duty."

"Oo, playlists. My specialty."

I start queuing up some epic songs to get us in a boujee, summery mood. I chew on the straw in my iced coffee, staving off hunger for the two-hour drive.

Josh speeds along, headed north out of Seattle. I drift off here and there, but usually a good song brings me back to the car. Zoë video chats me after her morning class. I see Raz in the background, rearranging yoga mats.

I apologize for being an absentee girl boss/owner. Seriously, I'm the worst. But I mean, perk of working for yourself right?

Enjoy the kickstart w HOTTIE

*hearts for eyes*

Zoë's text pops right up when we hang up. I scroll through my threads to my chat with Trix and Meg.

Hi babes
Happy MDW
Miss u's too much :)
Also Nate and Travis I guess
SEND ME ISLA PICS

"About 20 minutes," Josh finally says.

"Still? We're already in the middle of nowhere," I groan. "And def need to pee."

"I said to skip the iced coffee."

"Do you even know who you're in the car with?" I tousle my hair in the visor mirror and reapply my lip color.

"You look great, babe." Josh rolls his eyes at me.

"You always say that," I say, blotting my lips together. "But you forget I'm not as effortlessly adorable as you are."

It's too true. He's wearing a hunter green knit sweater that brings out the tiny specks of green hidden in his eyes. I don't even hate his khakis. Every sandy brown hair is perfectly combed into place. He's a prep school relic if I ever saw one.

Oh yea, Josh is loaded. In case that wasn't immediately clear. His grandfather was in logging when that shit was booming in the old West. Furs too. Crazy ridiculous things that don't seem real, but somehow created money for generations.

I don't remember ever seeing the maroon trucks on the highways before. Now that I know it's Josh's fam, I can't help but always notice them everywhere.

One passes us now. I crane my neck and follow it through the window. Harding Logging Co. stretches across the whole side of the truck.

I lay back in the seat and start repeating the names of Josh's extended family in my head, making sure I remember them all. I met most of them at the big holiday party last December and haven't seen most of them since.

Nancy and Charles, Josh's parents, are abso thrilled that I'm coming this weekend. I haven't seen them since we had lunch in the city back in March. They don't journey into Seattle too often. Troy, Josh's older brother, is also coming with his wife, Beck. I saw them about one week before I left for Bali.

Troy is the golden child, the prodigal son, yada yada. He's the one who decided to not abandon the family industry, as Charles says. He jokes about it, but I see how proud he is of Josh for starting his own career. Beck is great too, my oppo taco in every way. She's a plain jane that is still gorgeous but wouldn't be caught dead coloring her hair or having nails longer than her fingers. She reminds me of Meg.

Just when I'm done listing the Harding cousins I can remember, Josh pulls up to a black gate.

"Shut up–" I cut myself short.

The gates open automatically, like they sense the Harding blood in the Beemer. We start down the cobblestone driveway, shaded by Silver birch trees lining either side. The house pops into view and I will officially never leave here again.

"Babe," I say, "Babe. What the hell is this?"

It's a castle because those still exist and all. It's about 10 of the Florida mansions combined. And the grounds, OMG. Josh pulls over to the garage, which is nicer than my parents' entire house.

"What? All this and no valet?" I tease.

"We gave him the day off." Josh grins. I can't tell if he's kidding.

I climb out, praising the heavens that I brought my Prada bag Josh got me for V-Day and not my Go Zen tote bag.

"This is some Kennedy shit." I nudge him. "Are you running for president?"

"Stop," he says, rolling his eyes. "Come on, I'll get the bags."

Josh empties the trunk and throws our duffels onto his shoulder. I follow him up the 100-yard walkway, staring at the house in front of us. It's so coastal, so chic, with its gray wood shingles and white windows. Belongs on Nantucket in the 1920s. But I can't stop thinking about the house in Wedding Crashers.

"Ready to kickstart summer?" Josh asks, hand on the doorknob.

"Let's fucking go."