Page 39 of The Worst Best Man

“Maybe he wanted to find out where I dance and if I give BJs for an extra fifty,” Frankie shot back.

“He picked you up from the airport. I saw the way he was looking at you during dinner. Like he wanted to eat you instead of what was on his plate. And then he whisks you away? Don’t think for one second that just because I’m getting married tomorrow that I don’t want every single detail of what you two have been doing for the last five hours.”

Frankie rubbed the bump on the back of her head. “Let’s get back to this getting married thing tomorrow for a second. How upset would you be if something happened and you couldn’t?”

“Couldn’t what? Get married tomorrow?”

“Yeah. What if something… came up?”

“Franchesca Baranski, a mother-fucking hurricane could blow over this island leveling every building on it tomorrow, and I would still be marrying Chip.”

Ah, hell.

“Yeah, but—”

“Listen. You’ll understand this once you and Aiden really start getting to know each other,” Pru said, patting her arm. “Chip and I lost each other after college, and I was devastated because I knew he was the one. I never stopped believing that. Not once in all those years. And we found our way back to each other. We’ve paid our dues. That separation was heart-breaking for me, for him too. So we are going to have a magical day tomorrow because we deserve it. I deserve it,” her voice cracked.

Frankie grabbed her friend’s hand. “Of course, you deserve it. I know that Chip is all you’ve ever wanted, and you’ll have him. You’ll have your perfect guy on your perfect day. I promise.”

Pru nodded, her veil rippling. “I should text him! Text him and tell him how much I love him and can’t wait for tomorrow! Oooh! Or I could call him!”

“Uhhh—”

But Pru was already scampering back to the vanity for her phone.

Chapter Sixteen

Frankie: Pru thinks we made out for five hours tonight. Also, she’s texting and calling Chip to tell him how excited she is about tomorrow. In about thirty seconds, she’s going to start to panic.

Aiden: I’ve got it covered.

Frankie wanted to reach through her phone and strangle him. Or at the very least punch him in his smug “I’ve got it covered” face. She was just debating whether or not to bite the bullet and tell Pru everything when Pru’s phone signaled a text.

“Is it Chip?” Frankie asked, aghast. Was Aiden really that good?

“No. It’s Aiden,” Pru said, beaming at her phone. “He said that Chip is sound asleep in his suite, and he didn’t want me to worry that Chip wasn’t returning my texts.”

Pru hugged her phone to her chest, her eyes glistening with unshed tears of happiness. “I’m getting married tomorrow.”

Hell yes, she was. Frankie vowed that she would do whatever it took to get Pru down the aisle to the man of her dreams.

“Enough about me. Tell me about Aiden! Is he really an orgasm master?”

--------

Pru’s wedding day dawned bright, beautiful, and hot. With no groom in sight.

The evening ceremony called for hours spent at the spa with the rest of the bridesmonsters. Frankie had tossed and turned the rest of the night away in Pru’s room seeing Chip’s abduction over and over again in her head.

Aiden hadn’t bothered checking in, and with this seaweed wrap sucking the fat out of her, she couldn’t just get up and go find him. All she knew was he had better be mounting a rescue with tanks, ninjas, and mercenaries. Whatever it took to get Chip Randolph back to the resort and in a tux before six.

Cressida sauntered by in a short, silk robe and mud mask. “Here. Have zis,” she said, wielding a bottle of Cristal. “You look tense.”

Frankie looked at her arms pinned to her side with green slime. “Got a straw?”

Cressida shrugged. “Open your mouth. I will pour.”

Frankie laid back and did as she was told. Cressida poured with precision, and Frankie swallowed the bubbles like a first-string sorority pledge.