Page 91 of The Worst Best Man
“Good. Because I’d hate to have to beat the shit out of you after courtside seats,” Marco chimed in. “I mean, I’d still do it. But I’d probably be pulling my punches a bit.”
“Hey, so what’s it like being able to buy whatever you want?” Gio asked.
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“Hello, beautiful,” Aiden answered Frankie’s call, plugging his other ear with a finger so he could hear her over the din.
“I saw you and the two stooges on TV,” she told him.
“I hope you recorded it.”
“I did. I even took some still shots of them climbing you like a tree on that last second three-pointer. You do remember which member of the family you’re dating, don’t you?”
He grinned.
“Is that, Frankie?” Gio hissed.
Aiden nodded. Marco grabbed a pen off of a waitress and scrawled a note on a beer napkin.
Don’t say yes to the booty call.
“So, where are you guys?” Frankie asked.
“Celebrating with apparently half of Madison Square Garden in a bar,” Aiden told her.
“You drinking?” she asked.
He had a vague recollection of his confession before falling asleep on her Sunday afternoon. He didn’t know whether to be annoyed or pleased that she was looking out for him.
“One beer at the game. One beer here,” he reported.
“Good boy.”
He wanted to hate the way the praise she gave him made him hard. Made him want to see her, touch her, taste her.
Marco shoved another napkin in his face.
Stay strong!
“I live to serve,” he said lightly.
Dismayed, Marco and Gio shook their heads.
“Are you coming back to Brooklyn with them?” she asked innocently. “I might just have a cute, lacey nighty on.”
He knew her better than that. She was in a tank top and leggings curled up under a mound of blankets.
“I don’t think so, but you’re more than welcome to come into the city,” he offered. Thinking of her in his bedroom, her dark hair spread out on white sheets, the city lights shining through the windows. Aiden wanted her to say yes. Wanted it more than anything.
“I’ve got an early morning,” she said. “Don’t stay out too late.”
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Aiden said, wishing she’d change her mind.
“Goodnight, Aide.”
“Goodnight, Franchesca.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
