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“He’ll behave,” Beck insists, gesturing to the black puff. “Ernie is all class.”
The spa attendant looks at him suspiciously, and the dog barks once as if to emphasize it.
“You made it,” Elle calls. “We were getting worried Rae was too rebel to follow simple instructions.”
Rae flips her off and crosses to one of the pedicure chairs. She sits gingerly on the edge and inspects the basin below.
I snap my head up when I see Pen walking in, and my jaw drops. “You’re here!”
“Of course. I’m not gonna let my best girl get married without me.”
I run to her and squeeze her in a hug so hard it’s borderline cruel.
“These fools might be famous, but you and me go back.”
An attendant clears her throat, and we all turn to look. Four more women appear behind her. She lists off a range of treatments.
“I’d blow someone for a pedicure,” Pen says. “These feet have been traipsing through airports all week.”
Beck gets a drink and gets Ernie to sit in exchange for the little spa cookies.
“What color would you like?” my spa technician asks, presenting the range of nail polish options. “Something romantic, I assume.”
I study the samples. “Do you have something in a ‘So Your Fiancé’s Buying a Record Company Cobalt’?”
Elle chuckles. “Or ‘Guys Leaving You Out Green’?”
The tech looks between us, apparently nervous. “The closest is Forever and Ever Fuchsia.”
“Where are the guys today?” Pen asks.
After I decide on a soft shell pink that will go better with my dress than something outrageous, I fill her in.
“So, he didn’t come home last night?” she asks.
“He left a note. I get that he wants to help the next generation of artists and he wants to provide for us at the same time. But we’re going to be fine. All I need is him.”
“He doesn’t know everything’s going to be fine,” Beck points out. “When you guys were mugged in New York and Tyler’s hand got fucked… that was hell for him.”
“I know it was,” I toss back. “I was there.”
He shrugs. “But things haven’t worked out his whole life, Manatee. You were the first thing that did, and he wants to do right by you.”
I submerge my feet in the hot bath, tipping my head back as the competing feelings of appreciation and longing wash over me.
Maybe Beck’s right. As maddening as it is right now, the way Tyler looks out for his own, the way he’s become the man who does, is part of what I love about him.
“It can’t be that hard to finish this deal,” I mutter. “Get the papers signed. Get the artists on board…”
Elle snorts. “Hey, Finn, let me convince you,” she says in a sing-song voice.
I throw a face cloth at her, and she catches it before it hits her.
“Wait—what the hell does Finn have to do with this?”
We fill Pen in, and the way her eyes grow with every part of our story is mildly vindicating.
“Enough of this. They’re working; we’re playing.” Beck angles his phone at his face and Ernie.
