We went upstairs and looked through the peephole.
It was Meg. And she was a wreck!
Without thinking, Guy opened the door not realizing he was very hard under his boxer briefs and I was basically in a see-through top with disheveled and very wet booty shorts.
“Meg! What’s wrong?” I said.
“Come in!” added Guy.
“I just started driving to the Grand, and he kept texting every two minutes,” she sobbed.
Meg continued, “just text after text about how I’m always late everywhere, how I’m so stupid I’ll probably get lost on the way to the wedding, just on and on and on. I guess I just totally freaked out.”
“I’m sorry,” I said genuinely.
“You guys don’t know the things he’s said. Sometimes I get the impression he thinks he’s royalty - and I’m just another one of the silly maids he had growing
