Page 2 of The Best Friend Problem
Thanks to them, Pru could take destiny into her own hands.
An image of a tiny, squishy, squirming baby filled her mind. Moisture gathered in her eyes, and she sniffed as a wave of longing washed over her. Her arms ached to hold her future baby. To shower the little peanut with all the love she had. When she pressed a hand to her chest, the strong beat of her heart pounded against her palm, every thump hitting with a steady surge that seemed to echo one word in her mind…
Baby, baby, baby.
For the past five years, she’d scrimped and saved, even with the ups and downs of starting a wedding planning business with her roommates—yes, she saw the irony in a woman who planned happily-ever-afters for a living not believing in them herself—and she’d managed to stash away a nice nest egg for the fertility treatments and upcoming baby expenses.
Pru was nothing if not a planner and expert budgeter. That’s why she handled the books for Mile High Happiness, the wedding planning company she and her two roommates ran. Denver had been experiencing a boom lately thanks to all Colorado had to offer: the majestic mountain peaks, the bustling city, and the legal…plant life.
Starting a business was always a risk, but the picturesque appeal of the Mile High City and surrounding areas made it a premier wedding destination for locals and visitors alike. Six years in and the women were successfully running in the black with no signs of slowing down. She had her awesome friends, an amazing job, and a padded savings account. Now all Pru needed was her baby.
“So, who’s the lucky fella going to be?”
A loud chime made her jump before she realized it wasn’t the book of donors answering her but her cell phone indicating a text message. She snorted, silently chiding herself for her silliness, reaching for her phone.
F: Need a rescue.
The best friend code.
She and Finn had made a pact in high school: if either of them was on a bad date and needed rescuing, the other would drop everything and come right away. Though she’d been on numerous bad dates with creeps, jerks, and just plain bores, she’d only used their code a handful of times. She preferred to end things herself. Finn, however, despite his muscular physique and plethora of tattoos, was a big ol’ softie and could never end a date without an excuse—no matter how badly it was going.
If she had a dollar for every time he’d used the code, she could have paid for ten babies by now.
P: Where?
F: Strikers
Oh, goody, the dimly lit pool hall that still reeked of cigarettes even though smoking indoors had been banned in Colorado since before she’d been legally allowed in bars. She sighed. Time to put on her BFF pants and rescue her sweet but clueless bestie.
The man really needed to learn how to end a date that wasn’t going well. Maybe she should give him a cheat sheet of easy-out excuses.
Although, truthfully, she didn’t mind that her friend needed her.
Taking care of the people in her life gave Pru a sense of warmth deep in her heart. When her friends were happy, she was happy. So she didn’t mind rescuing Finn from bad dates or making sure her roommate, Mo, drank enough water after a midnight margarita party, or even seeing to the needs of her great aunt during her last years, as the old woman’s health had failed her.
Closing her binder, she tucked it and the notepad into her bedside drawer before heading out of her room.
“Going out?”
She glanced into the kitchen table as she passed, spotting her roommate and business partner, Lilly Walsh, sitting in one of the dark oak chairs they’d bought at a thrift store, a pile of seating charts spread out before her on the table.
“Yep. Best-friend rescue duty calls.”
“I don’t understand why that man has such trouble dating,” Moira Rossi, her other roommate and business partner, said as she closed the fridge door, a slice of cake in hand. “He’s a solid twelve. How does he have so many bad dates? If I went out with him, I’d have my panties off before we got to dessert.”
“You have your panties off with an eight before salads, Mo,” Lilly gibed without looking up from her charts.
“Yeah, but that’s because I enjoy exploring my sexuality. Not all of us live the stifled life of a nineteenth-century crone.”
Pru chuckled as Lilly sighed with a shake of her head. Mo simply smiled, shoving a bite of cake into her mouth. The three women were as different as night and day, but they’d all been assigned as roommates in college, and somehow, they’d just clicked and been together ever since.
“Honestly, Pru,” Mo continued, sitting at the table and offering Lilly a forkful of cake. Predictably, the dark-haired woman waved her off, preferring salty snacks over sweet ones. “I do not know how you’re friends with Finn and don’t demand benefits. I bet he gives really, really good benefits.”
First of all, ew.
Second of all, she and Finn had been friends since the seventh grade.
Sure, she wasn’t stupid. She knew her bestie was what some might call insanely hot. His deep blue eyes and sandy blond hair gave him the perfect boy-next-door look. His full tattooed sleeves and the undercut hairstyle he sported gave him a bad-boy vibe. The man was what Aunt Rose had referred to as a walking hot flash. Then there was his job. As a firefighter, Finn was a bona fide hero. What woman could resist that?
