The Worst Best Man(69)

The Knicks game was on in the background, drawing his attention more often than usual as he’d found himself added to the text message conversation between Frankie’s brothers about the game.

It was after ten, not nearly late enough to consider turning in. He slept on average five, possibly six, hours a night. But the day, the evening, had taken its toll.

His phone vibrated from under a stack of papers. Reflexively, he checked the TV to see what was happening with the game, but it was a time out.



Frankie: Why are there three men with a mattress at my front door at 10:30 at night?



Aiden: Your bed is a disgrace to beds everywhere.



Frankie: It’s my bed!



Aiden: Well, you’re not the only one sleeping in it now.



Frankie: Don’t you think you should have run this by me?



Aiden: And this is how that conversation would have gone. You: No. Me: Yes. You: Fuck you, Aiden. Me: Fine, but it’s going to be on this nice new king-size. You: has several orgasms on new bed Okay, we can keep the bed.



Frankie: You’re insane.



Aiden: You’re welcome.



A few seconds later she sent another text. It was a selfie on the new mattress.



Frankie: I’m willing to give this bed and the aforementioned orgasms a shot.



He laughed despite himself. He knew what she needed. He was eager to give it to her. But everything with Frankie was a battle.

He started to type a reply and changed his mind. He’d take a shower and read until he got out of his own head, he decided.

He made it as far as the bedroom before his phone rang.

Frankie.

“Hi,” he answered.

“Hello, secret bed buyer. Where do you even get a king-sized bed and mattress at 10 o’clock at night?” Frankie asked.

“I have a guy,” Aiden joked.

“Are you okay? You sound… off.”

Aiden sat down on the edge of the bed and stretched out. “Nothing I can’t deal with,” he said, flippantly.

There was a pause on her end. “Wanna talk about it?” she offered.

Did he?

“I wouldn’t even know where to start,” he admitted.

“You’re not just patting me on the head and shooing me away so the menfolk can talk business, are you?”

It was exactly the kind of behavior Ferris treated his wives to.

“Gorgeous, you know more about business than I do.”

She laughed huskily, and it went straight to his chest. “Let’s hope my Corporate Social Responsibility professor thinks like you do. So, what happened?”

“My dad came over tonight.”

“Hmm, not enough information for me to make snap judgements and offer unwarranted advice. Keep going.”

Aiden covered his eyes with his free hand and soaked in the sound of her voice.

“He announced that he’s retiring at the end of the month.”

“Holy shit. Stepping down as chairman of the board?”

“Walking away from everything. Oh, and he and my stepmother are getting a divorce.”

“Mid-life crisis?”

“If you can have one at sixty-five. There’s a girlfriend.”

“Of course there is. Let me guess, a dancer? No, wait, not classy enough. Oh! A museum docent?”

“An athletic apparel designer.”

“Nice! You finally have an in for all the sports bras you’ve been wanting.”

Aiden’s lips curved. “I wish you were here.” The words were out in the world before he could stop them.

She sighed into the phone. “Maybe sometime. But for now, I wish you were here in this big bed with me.”

Just imagining her stretched out, her wild hair fanning out in all directions, stirred him.

“So, what does this mean for you? You’re COO—I Googled you—what happens next?”

“I make the move to CEO, take on more responsibility, including the care and maintenance of one Elliot Kilbourn.”

“You’re shitting me. That man-child is an epic asshole. Why would your father let him within five-hundred yards of the company?”

“He’s blinded by Alice the sports bra designer.”

“Funny. So your dad is dumping all his responsibilities on you so he can what? Retire on a topless beach in Boca?”

“Sail down the Intercoastal Waterway and spend the summer in the Bahamas.”

“Is he going to change his mind?” Frankie asked hopefully.

“I don’t think so. He wants me to carry on in the business and family.”

“Oh,” she said flatly. “You mean find a nice billionaire debutante and create perfect male heirs.”

It was amazing just how much Frankie understood about the inner workings, the expectations of his life.

“Something like that.”

“Did you buy me a bed to break up with me?”

Aiden laughed, and the sound echoed around the quiet room. “I bought you a bed to fuck you on without dumping us on the floor.”

“I’m not mistress material, Aide.”

“No, you’re not. My father also wants me to groom Elliot for a VP position. Something respectable.”