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The voice was a full octave deeper than Chip’s. Smooth, cultured. Frankie considered asking him to read the grocery list she had stashed in her hand-me-down clutch just so she could listen to him pronounce edamame.
“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.”
These women were from a different planet. Planet Crazy Bitch.
The bride was standing on the bar mainlining cosmos and shouting “I’m married, bitches!” The third cosmo spilled like a waterfall down her bejeweled dress. “Classy as fuck,” Frankie whispered to Aiden as they danced and dodged their way toward the hotel. “That’s a twenty-six-thousand-dollar dress.” “Wonder where the groom is? Running for the hills?” Frankie pointed toward a large potted palm. “I think he’s the one with his tongue down that groomsman’s throat.” “Ah.” Aiden said. Frankie shook her head. “This is like the Great Gatsby with a drug and alcohol problem.”
“I can’t believe I finally get to marry him, Frankie. I just… I love him so much. He’s funny and sweet and kind and smart, and he looks like a Ken doll. But when I look at him, I can see us fifty years from now. Chasing grandkids, hosting parties, summering in the Hamptons with our huge family.”
“I’m so happy. And that’s what I want for you, Frankie. I want you to find someone who makes you feel like you’re flying. Someone who makes you look forward to the next fifty years.”
“Newsflash. You don’t buy me, asshole. You earn me.”
“I love when you look at me like that,” he gritted out the words. “Like what?” “Like I’m the center of your universe.”
Frankie’s family didn’t go to church, but her mother still believed in Sunday best and was wearing her very best elastic waist slacks and turtleneck purchased from JC Penney in 1989.
Aiden looked on in what Frankie hoped was amusement. Her mother was a few cards shy of a full deck.
“Look Frankie. When you’re in a relationship, you don’t live your life to please your partner. But you sure as hell don’t figure out what they like and then run in the opposite direction to maintain some semblance of independence.”
“Thank you for the dress,” she whispered, her throat too raw for any volume. He laughed softly against her hair. “Thank you for you.”
“Sweetheart, did you think I’d stop giving just because you started?”
“You’re going to be great. You might even have the smallest bit of fun.” She didn’t believe a second of his pep talk, but Frankie appreciated it all the same. “Yeah, you too.” “And when this is all over, I’ll take you through any drive-thru you want, and we’ll eat in pajamas at home.” “Deal.”
She was his tormentor, his angel, his enemy.
“I love him so much it scares me,” she admitted, her voice low and shaky. She brought her gaze up. “I love him so much I can’t breathe because I feel like a piece of me is missing.”
