Page 4 of Frenched (Frenched 1)
I grimaced and brought my coffee to my lips. “I know that feeling.”
Coco toyed with her coffee cup. “How was it between the two of you when you were alone? Did things feel right?”
“I guess so. I mean, he’s not the most open person in the world. He didn’t talk about his feelings a lot, but he did say he loved me. And he was romantic in some ways, always getting me little gifts—or big ones, even—and taking me places and stuff.”
“Yeah, he loved showing you off, that was obvious.” Erin’s tone was harsh. “And showing off how good he was to you.”
“But what about when you were alone alone?” Coco went on. “Was the sex still good?”
“Not as good as it should have been.” I shrugged. “It was OK. He’s hot, and he got the job done, I suppose, but there wasn’t much variation on the theme.”
Erin laughed. “What was the theme?”
“Fast and clean.”
Coco choked on her coffee. “What?”
“Yeah,” I said, warming to the subject. It actually felt good to finally speak the less-than-perfect truth. “He has two positions he likes, and once we get into one of the Approved Positions, that’s how we stay until he’s finished—which doesn’t take long. He doesn’t like moving around because that causes wet spots on the sheets. He has an aversion to bodily fluids.”
“Oh my God.” Erin’s jaw hung open. “You must be joking.”
“No. And he doesn’t like oral sex for the same reason.”
“Not even blow jobs?”
I shook my head. “No
pe. And forget about the other kind. Oh, and after he’s finished, he races to the bathroom to clean himself up. Whether I’m finished or not.”
Both of them sat there blinking at me in disbelief. “Holy shit, Mia,” Coco said. “I’m pretty sure the universe did you a big favor here. You deserve a way better man than that asshole. I don’t care how good looking he is. Or how rich. Any man that jumps out of bed to go clean himself up before making sure his woman is satisfied is a prick.”
“Agreed.” Erin nodded emphatically. “I wish you had said something about this sooner.”
“Why? I wouldn’t have listened to reason. I was too busy planning metro Detroit’s most glamorous wedding of the year,” I said, quoting from the article in Wedding Chic magazine. They’d done a whole profile of me, complete with photo shoot. “Oh, God, that stupid magazine article…all those pictures.” I slammed my eyes shut.
“Forget that. No one reads that magazine anyway.” Erin put her hand on my arm. “And some other scandal will replace you on Facebook.”
I opened my eyes to see Coco glaring at Erin. “It’s on Facebook?” They’d confiscated my laptop days ago, probably so I couldn’t check social media.
My friends both bit their bottom lips, and Coco glanced to her left, which she always does when she lies. “No, no. She just meant people have sent messages on Facebook hoping you’re OK.”
“Christ, Coco. You’re the worst liar in the world.” I set my cup down and flopped onto my back. “It’s OK. I’m sure it’s all over the Internet that Tucker Branch jilted me a week before the wedding. People love gossip. I’ll just have to deal with it.”
Silence.
Propping myself on my elbows, I opened one eye and frowned at their nervous expressions. “What?”
“Well,” Erin began as Coco’s eyeballs flicked to the left again, “it’s not so much the gossip as Tucker’s post. Uh, posts.”
“What posts?”
“He, um, tweeted something about barely escaping a burning building by ditching the ball and chain. And he followed that up with a lot of pics of himself with girls in Vegas.”
My stomach lurched. “He didn’t.”
Coco nodded. “He did.”
Dropping my head back onto the pillow again, I flung my arms over my burning face. Tucker, you bastard. Did you ever really love me? Why did you even propose?
