Page 80 of The Worst Best Man
When he didn’t respond immediately, Frankie silenced her phone and stowed it in her bag. It was for the best if he didn’t go. It would be a mistake to take him to her parents’. Her mother would start building castles in the sky and “finally” planning her “only daughter’s wedding.” And when it ended, when she and Aiden went their separate ways, May would be more devastated than either of them. Plus, she didn’t want to complicate things. And that’s exactly what family usually did.
They were doing a good job of keeping it uncomplicated. They’d had dinner and (phenomenal) sex on Tuesday and had been texting off and on since then. See? Minus the expensive coat and gloves she loved so much that she wore them watching TV in her icebox of an apartment, they were basically a Tinder hookup.
That, she could handle.
Professor Neblanski shuffled into class clutching a latte and dumped his briefcase on his desk. “All right, let’s get this over with.”
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Frankie hated to admit it, but she was disappointed that she didn’t get to see Aiden Friday or Saturday. Friday night, she already had plans to go out with friends, hitting a new wine bar in Clinton Hill. Saturday Aiden spent half the day in the office and the other half juggling rich guy responsibilities. Something about a fundraiser appearance and a dinner with clients. Now, she was curled up on her couch with Netflix reruns on in the background and her thesis draft in her lap, ignoring both in favor of thinking about Aiden.
What they lacked in physical attention, they made up for in texting. Frankie was delighted to find that Aiden was funny over text.
Aiden: Dinner companion just mentioned having his hands full of wood. Exactly how am I supposed to respond? (Full disclosure: client owns several lumber mills).
Aiden: I was going to stop by your place tonight and surprise you, but Brooklyn.
Aiden: I’ve been disappointed by every single sandwich since the one your brother made.
And then there was tonight’s message.
Aiden: Preparing for lunch tomorrow. What’s the best way to take your mother’s attention off of Gio and the fresh widow? Should we tell her we’re adopting a child or that our sex tape was leaked?
Frankie laughed out loud at that one. She fired off a response.
Frankie: When is the last time you met a girl’s parents?
Aiden: I meet most of them.
Frankie didn’t care for that particular tidbit. It certainly didn’t make a girl feel special.
Aiden: However, I’m feeling a lot more pressure having heard about your mother. What’s the best way to win her over? Asking for a friend.
Frankie laughed again. She started to text back and then threw caution to the wind and dialed his number.
“Franchesca.” He answered the phone sounding both smoldery and delighted.
She felt like a damn teenager talking to her crush on the phone.
“Hello,” she said, wondering why she called him. Now they had to make conversation. “Are you really worried about meeting my mother? Because you should be. She’s terrifying.”
“You underestimate my charm,” Aiden insisted.
Frankie laughed. “You underestimate my mother’s lack of sanity. She’s going to ask you about weddings and babies.”
“And what should I tell her?”
Frankie flopped back on the couch cushion. “Well, she already knows that we’re having sex, which she thinks makes me a diabolical genius for hooking you on sex and then tempting you to put a ring on it.”
Aiden laughed softly.
“You don’t have to go, Aide,” she reminded him. She was more nervous about him meeting her parents than any legitimate boyfriend she’d had since high school.
“I’d like to go.”
“I can’t imagine why. They’re messy and loud and nosy, and you’re guaranteed to leave with a headache and probably a buzz and indigestion. My mom will keep refilling your plate while my dad keeps the booze flowing.”
“Are you trying to talk me out of it? Because never-ending food and alcohol are doing the exact opposite.”
