Page 4 of The Worst Best Man
The headache was throbbing behind his eyes. No one talked to him that way. Not even his oldest friends.
“Pleaseallow me to apologize,” he said, his jaw clenching. He cupped her elbow in his hand and guided her toward an alcove behind a heavy gold curtain.
The darkness made the pain in his head ease just a bit, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, willing the rest of it away.
“How about I save us both some time?” Franchesca suggested. “You don’t bother apologizing because we both know you meant to be a dick, and I won’t bother pretending to forgive you because I don’t give a shit what you think about me. Fair enough?”
There was a cream-colored settee covered in silk, and Aiden sat. The dull throb was making his stomach roll. “Look. I’m not putting my best foot forward, and for that I apologize.”
“Future reference again? ‘I apologize’ doesn’t come across as sincerely as ‘I’m sorry.’ You got a headache?”
The change in subject had his head spinning. He closed his eyes. Nodded.
“Migraine?” she prodded.
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
She mumbled to herself, and he opened his eyes to watch her dig through her clutch. “Here,” she said, offering him two pills. “Prescription.”
“You get them, too?”
“No, but Pru does when she’s stressed. I didn’t want her muddling through her engagement party wanting to puke.”
“That’s very kind and prepared of you.”
“I’m the maid of honor. It’s my job. Now take them like a good little boy.”
He lifted his glass, but she stopped him with a hand on his wrist. “Don’t be a dumbass. Alcohol makes it worse.” She took the glass from him and stuck her head out of the curtain. He heard her give a little whistle, and in a moment, she was thanking someone by name and handing him a glass of ice water.
“You know the catering staff?” he asked, making conversation while he washed down the tablets.
“I am the catering staff. Second job. It’s my night off.” She said it as if she were daring him to find fault with that. “You want me to call you an Uber?” she offered suddenly.
“I have a car downstairs.”
“Of course you do.”
“Why are you being nice to me?” Aiden rubbed a hand over his temple.
“Maybe I’m doing it to rub your face in the fact that you’re an ass. And maybe I just gave you two birth control pills instead of headache meds just to watch you suffer.”
“Maybe I’d deserve it.”
The curtain twitched, and the server with the blue hair poked her head in. “Here’s the soda,” she whispered. Her eyes widened when she spotted him, and she backed out of the alcove.
“I make her nervous,” Aiden observed when the server left.
“It’s a good thing you’re good-looking and rich because you definitely don’t have the personality thing going for you. Here, drink this. The caffeine will help.”
He drank it down and rested his head against the back of the settee. “Thanks.” She was taking care of him after he suggested that she had experience as a stripper. He was an asshole and wondered when that transformation had become complete.
She took the glass from him. “Stay until it kicks in,” she ordered and turned for the curtain.
“Where are you going?”
“Back to the party so I can shake my stripper ass at all those eligible bachelors.”
“I’m sorry I’ll miss it.”
