Page 86 of The Worst Best Man
Marco flipped it back but not before his mother caught him. May got out of her chair and walked casually behind her son, and just when his shoulders seemed to relax, she cuffed him on the back of the head.
“Manners!”
“Frankie started it,” Marco argued.
Frankie flipped him another bird.
“See, Ma? Look!”
Frankie picked up her fork and ate innocently. “Marco, you’re hallucinating.”
May slapped Gio on the back of the head on her way back to her chair.
“What was that for?” he demanded.
“I saw your finger twitch,” she pointed out. “It was a preemptive strike.”
May sat down primly. Frankie and her brothers watched carefully, and the second the woman’s attention was on her plate, three middle fingers shot up around the table.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake. When did you all turn into assholes?” Hugo sighed over his plate.
“What? What did they do?” May demanded.
“Nothing,” the three Baranski siblings announced.
“You sure you want to deal with this?” Rachel asked Aiden from across the table. “There’s still time to get out.”
Aiden turned his laugh into a discreet cough.
“Don’t try to scare off the trillionaire. He’s Frankie’s last shot at non-test tube babies,” Marco joked.
Aiden shot Marco the finger, and the table erupted in laughter. Except for May. She very calmly got out of her seat and smacked him upside the head.
“Ma!” Franchesca was horrified.
“I don’t care if Aiden is a trillionaire. No one flips the bird at my dinner table!”
As soon as she glanced down at her plate, six middle fingers shot up.
Chapter Thirty-Three
When all was said and done, Frankie had to drive Aiden to her place in his car because he’d had one or three too many with her dad and idiot brothers. He was a sweet drunk, complimenting her on her braking and turn signals the whole eight blocks back to her place.
Frankie slid the key in the lock and gave him a push into her apartment. She dropped her keys on the kitchen counter and kicked off her shoes. “Well,thatwas eventful,” she announced.
“I couldn’t tell. Did I pass?” he asked, sliding out of his coat and hanging it neatly on the dubious coat rack that leaned like the tower of Pisa.
“Pass what?” Frankie asked, fishing two glasses out of the cabinet in her kitchen.
“Your parents’ inspection.”
She laughed. “My mother hit you upside the head. That’s a gold star seal of approval if there ever was one.”
“That’s not what it sounded like from the kitchen.”
Frankie handed him a glass of water and some ibuprofen. “You heard that, huh?” She curled up on the couch, tucking her feet beneath her.
Aiden flopped down next to her and stared at the pills in his hand.
