Page 29 of The Boss and the Wedding Mess

“Mhm,” I reply, , before I start questioning her. “So, you’re best friends?”

“Oh yes, since forever. We met in school and clicked right away. I was very shy back then, and London used to beat up the boys who teased me.”

“Did she really?” I chuckle as I start the engine.

“Yes. She’s always been a fighter. Probably because of her three older brothers.”

"She has three of them?" I was spot on with my theory.

"Yeah, and they're tough as nails. Her father too. She had to learn early on how to stand up for herself, otherwise she’d have been trampled. You’d think being the youngest—and the only girl—she’d be spoiled. But nope, London was raised her like one of the boys for the first few years. Had to go on fishing trips, played soccer, and the boys would beat her up sometimes when they fought over candy." That sounds awful. "She then took up karate, later Krav Maga. Once she broke a guy's nose when he hit on us in a bar."

"Just like that?" I ask in astonishment as I pull out of the parking space. Good thing she didn't punch me. That would have been interesting.

“He grabbed my breast and her butt. Next thing, he was on the floor bleeding.”

"So, she packs quite a punch?"

“Yes. But she also broke a nail. She’d just had them done, too, the day before. That was honestly the worst part of the whole thing."

"Hmm." Got it. "How long ago was that?"

“Oh, ages ago—maybe when we were nineteen or twenty,” Vanessa adds with a sigh. “She’s really a good person.”

“Yes, I get that now. I’m not mad at her anymore. She’ll apologize to the bride and groom, then it’s over.”

“So, you’re not firing her?” she asks, looking surprised and happy at the same time.

“She’s good at her job, and my father’s her biggest fan. If she keeps it up, I’ll probably keep her.”

I don’t like crying women. Or tears on leather seats. But apparently my answer sets her off again. This time, she’s crying with joy.

"That sounds wonderful! Really! Oh, thank God! I haven't been able to sleep the last few nights!"

“Where do you live, anyway?” I ask, starting to drive without thinking.

“Um… we need to turn right soon, then pass Big Ben, and then… quite a bit further.”

“What’s the address?” When she tells me, it’s no wonder she took a taxi. Public transport would have taken her at least two hours. With the car, we only need about forty minutes.

I’m lucky. Vanessa falls asleep almost immediately. At least she’s not crying anymore, and I have some peace and quiet during the drive.

Forty-three minutes later, I pull up in front of her apartment building and park. She has a nice place here. Upper-middle class.

“Vanessa? We’re here.” I gently touch her shoulder. She grunts softly and stirs awake, rubbing her blonde mane out of her face.

“What happened?” she asks drowsily.

“We’re at your place,” I explain.

“Oh. Good. That was quick.” She yawns, digs out her keys from her handbag, and mumbles, “You’re such a nice, decent guy. I don’t understand why London thinks you’re so… shitty.” She pats my cheek. “Thanks for the ride. See you around.”

She tries the door but fails. Clearly too little sleep, and way too much to drink.

“You can tell her I drove you home. That should earn me a few points on my karma account.” I unbuckle and get out. Better help her upstairs before she collapses in the stairwell.

I could totally see that happening.

I walk around the car, and open her door, but getting out doesn't quite work since she's still buckled in. I quickly fix that and carefully help her out of the car, stand her upright, and close the door. I lock the car and carefully support her, but after a few steps, she can walk on her own and doesn't need my help anymore.