Page 38 of The Worst Best Man

She opened her mouth ready to verbally punch him in the face, but as usual, he was quicker. He brought his mouth down on hers for a fast, hard kiss. Just when she was deciding between dragging him into her room or kicking him in the balls, Aiden pulled back. “You were amazing tonight.”

He ran a finger down the tip of her nose and walked off.

“What in the fuck was that?” Frankie asked the empty room as she shut the door and added the chain just in case Mr. Kilbourn decided to try his luck again.

She looked down at her dress and groaned. There was a tear in the waist and one in the skirt. Those damn berries had smeared their bloody red massacre over the right breast and hip. She looked like a murdered starlet in Monique Lhuillier.

Pru was going to kill her.

Frantically, she dialed the front desk and begged for a super emergency cleaning. The figure they named made her wince. It meant at least another month of catering gigs. But at this point, she had no choice. It was either pay the exorbitant fee and hope for the best, or walk down the aisle and get stabbed by the bride.

If there was a wedding. If Aiden didn’t come through, there would be no groom for Pru to marry, she thought bitterly as she changed into sleep shorts and a tank.

Frankie handed over the dress to the bell hop that knocked and then texted Pru.

Frankie: You up?

Pru’s response was practically instantaneous.

Pru: OMG, get over here!

Frankie padded down the hall to Pru and Chip’s room. Before she could raise her knuckles to knock, Pru opened the door and dragged her inside. Frankie blinked. Her best friend was wearing a silk pajama set… and her veil.

Clearly the rum and beer hadn’t worn off yet.

“I know. I know. I look like a crazy person,” Pru announced leading the way back into a marble on marble on marble bathroom the size of a football stadium. “But I started thinking. We’re in paradise. It’s hot. Do I really want to wear my hair down tomorrow? Have a seat,” she said, pointing toward the ledge of the soaker tub.

“And do you?” Frankie asked, feeling like the worst human being in the world. Her best friend’s fiancé had been kidnapped in front of her face and not only did she know where to find him, she had walked away without trying to rescue him. She was scum. The chewing gum on the bottom of someone’s shoe. The kind of person who faked diseases just to set up phony crowd-funding campaigns. She, Franchesca Marie Baranski, was a bad, bad person.

She sat on the lip of the tub.

Pru was discussing the merits of a sexy chignon when she abruptly cut herself off. Her blue eyes going wide in the mirror. “Here I am yammering on and on about my hair and you’ve just come back from a tryst with Aiden! What kind of a friend am I?”

“The best. You’re the best kind of a friend, Pru,” Frankie lamented. “You’re a wonderful person, and you deserve all the happiness in the world.” She had to tell her. If she were in Pru’s shoes, she’d want to know.

“What’s wrong?” Pru demanded, whirling away from the mirror. “You look like you’re gonna cry.”

Frankie let herself slide backwards into the tub. “Before we talk about Aiden, we should talk about Chip.”How in the hell was she going to explain to her best friend that she didn’t call the cops, didn’t kick the door in and drag Chip home? That she was the worst friend in the world.

Pru got a soft, faraway look in her eyes. “I can’t believe I finally get to marry him, Frankie. I just… I love him so much. He’s funny and sweet and kind and smart, and he looks like a Ken doll. But when I look at him, I can see us fifty years from now. Chasing grandkids, hosting parties, summering in the Hamptons with our huge family.”

Pru clasped her hands together and sighed. “He’s everything I’ve been dreaming about since I was five. I have my dream dress, my best friend, and I get to marry the man of my dreams in paradise.” Her eyes glistened with tears.

“Don’t cry, Pru,” Frankie pleaded. At least not before she’d told her the shitty part about having an MIA fiancé.

“I can’t help it.” Pru dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “I’m just so happy. And that’s what I want for you, Frankie. I want you to find someone who makes you feel like you’re flying. Someone who makes you look forward to the next fifty years.”

“I can’t focus on the next fifty minutes let alone years,” Frankie teased.

Pru crossed the bathroom. It took about ten minutes given the expanse of marble between them. She perched on the edge of the tub and toyed with her veil. “I think Aiden will be that for you,” Pru confessed.

Frankie smacked her head off the back of the tub. “Ow! What?”

“I know you two got off to a rough start—”

“The man called me a stripper!”

“After the engagement party, he asked Chip a thousand questions about you.”