Page 49 of The Best Friend Power Play

"You do?"

She rolls her eyes and giggles. "I'm going to start thinking you're obsessed with hearing me say the words I do."

Now that she mentions it, they did have a nice ring to them back in the courthouse.

But I'm getting off-track here.

"I respect it because I know getting married means something to you," she says, her eyes focused and unwavering. "It's not something you take lightly. Neither do I. But this is a huge opportunity for you, and as your best friend, it makes me so happy to be able to help you out with that."

"Thank you." I swap hand positions so my giant paws now encase her soft, tender fingers. "And as your best friend, I am recommitting to making sure that once we get this shenanigan over and done with today, you are going to have the hottest hot girl summer ever."

She smiles. "Great. Are we ready to check in?"

"Let's do it."

We step into the lobby of the motel, and we're immediately transported to a bygone era. The place has a retro eighties vibe—I'm not sure if it's intentional or not—with its wood-paneled walls, fluorescent lighting, faux marble counter, and potted ferns.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Hannah asks, keeping her voice low.

"That this place never left the '80s?"

She giggles. "Exactly."

We walk over to the reception desk and are greeted by an elderly gentleman with a weathered yet kind face. He's dressed in a plaid shirt with rolled-up sleeves, his silver hair is swept back, and a pair of old-fashioned glasses are perched on the bridge of his nose.

"You must be Jenny's grandson," he says, taking me in with a friendly smile. "I'm Jerry."

"That's right. Culver Palladino. Nice to meet you, Jerry."

"The family resemblance is striking." He shifts his attention to Hannah. "And you must be the bride."

An awkward silence.

I bring my hand to my face and speak out of the corner of my mouth so the old man can't hear me say, "I'm killing Nonna when we get back."

Because of course she couldn't help herself and had to mention the wedding.

"You can't kill anyone with as cute a name as Nonna," Hannah whispers back.

"We've put you two young lovebirds into our honeymoon suite," Jerry says, grabbing a brightly-colored keychain from the pegboard behind the desk.

"Thank you," I say, as he passes the key to me.

He hands us a flier describing local attractions, we say goodbye, and I carry our suitcases over to the honeymoon suite.

The suite is stuck in the same eighties time warp as the rest of this place, with plush red carpet, floral print wallpaper in vibrant shades of pink, purple, and teal, and a large bed in the middle of the room that features a dramatic mirrored headboard which reflects the soft glow of bedside lamps shaped like disco balls.

"Whoa."

"Double whoa," Hannah says, slowly making her way toward the center of the room, taking it all in. "I need to take these heels off. My feet are killing me."

Someone's getting an extra-long foot rub tonight.

She sits down on the bed, and the next thing I know, she's letting out an almighty shriek. She scrambles to her feet so fast, I think that something must have bitten her.

I race over. "What's wrong?"

She points at the bed. "It's a…it's a…waterbed."

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