Page 97 of The Worst Best Man

Chapter Thirty-Seven

January gave way to the icy fingers of February. New Yorkers spent the month shivering their way from building to building on gray, slushy sidewalks. But Frankie stayed warm enough with Aiden in her apartment at least three nights a week.

They were getting along better than she would have imagined. He was smart and funny and horrifyingly generous. The new bed had been broken in, and now when Frankie went to bed alone, it was in the middle, hugging the pillow he’d used last.

She tried not to think of the countdown clock. His relationships usually lasted between two and three months. They’d been going strong for six weeks. It was longer than she thought they’d survive. In fact, neither one of them was showing any signs of slowing down.

Frankie finished up the email she was working on and fired it off. It was her half-day today, and with her evening class canceled for the evening, she had a luxury she wasn’t used to. Several unfilled hours. She thought about texting Aiden to see if he would come out tonight, but as he’d been there last night, it wasn’t likely.

She turned to eye the flowers he’d sent this morning. Raul liked to joke that if Brenda had turned the office into a greenhouse with her pretty plants everywhere, Frankie’s boyfriend had turned it into a tropical rainforest.

These were exotic and colorful with green spikes.

Wild and beautiful. Just like you.

—A.

Frankie’s phone rang from the desk drawer, and she retrieved it.

“Well, if it isn’t my old married friend Mrs. Stockton-Randolph,” she answered.

“Frankie! Tell me you don’t have plans for lunch,” Pru squealed into the phone. “I haven’t seen you in a thousand years, and I need you to tell me if I look like an old married lady.”

“Send me a selfie so I can see first. I don’t want to be seen in the city with some old lady,” Frankie teased.

Ever the obedient friend, Pru sent her a selfie with crossed eyes and a scrunched nose.

“Yeah, I’m definitely not being seen with that.”

“Har har. It’s your half-day, isn’t it?”

“It is. I get off in twenty.”

“Well get off and get your ass downtown. I want all the dish on you and a certain most eligible bachelor who’s been seen smiling from time to time since he got back from my wedding.”

“Smiling you say?” Frankie asked. So maybe she wasn’t the only one walking around with a stupid grin on her face.

“Meet me at The Courtyard in an hour,” Pru ordered.

“Yes, ma’am.”

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The host hustled Frankie through the restaurant with its bamboo walls and artsy chandeliers to the bar area where Pru waited. Her friend was dressed in trousers that molded to her like a second skin and a body hugging cashmere turtleneck. Slouchy gray boots poked out from under the wide legged cuffs of her navy blue pants.

They hugged as if it had been years rather than a few weeks.

“Well, marriage certainly agrees with you,” Frankie quipped, sliding into the leather backed booth.

“I’d say that dating Aiden agrees with you,” Pru said, eyeing her coat.

“Yeah, keep it down, okay?” Frankie glanced around the restaurant. It was one of the places where important private conversations were often overheard for the gossip columns.

“Tell me everything,” Pru demanded.

“There’s not much to tell,” Frankie fibbed. She wasn’t exactly prepared to put into words the feelings she had surrounding Aiden. They weren’t identifiable at this point, and she was in no hurry to hash them out.

“You’ve been dating the most eligible bachelor on the eastern seaboard for six weeks, and there’s yet to be a picture of the two of you together. You never bring him up. You only don’t talk about men when you’re really serious.”