Chapter 25
Frankie
S taring at her reflection in the overly lit mirror that took up the majority of one dressing room wall, Frankie swallowed hard against a fresh wave of tears as she turned from one side to the other, running her hand over the swell of her tummy. Her usual size had been too tight to pull the zipper up on this particular dress, and even going up a size hadn’t helped as much as she’d hoped. Her stomach still poked out far more than it should, even if she sucked it in.
“That’s what I get for letting a man built like a fucking linebacker feed me,” she grumbled, giving her stomach another pinch.
Maybe that’s the real reason he doesn’t want to fuck you anymore. You’re getting too fat and he’s just too nice to tell you.
Her reflection blurred, and suddenly she couldn’t get the dress off fast enough. A sob burst out of her as she fumbled with the zipper, desperately yanking at it until it was loose enough to wiggle herself out of the clingy material.
When she was finally free, she dragged in a deep, shuddering breath as she sank down to the floor, pulling her knees up to her chest, pressing in on herself to try and ease the panic clawing at her insides.
God, what she wouldn’t give to have Lottie here with her. Reassuring her that everything was fine, that a little weight gain was normal and good .
But once again, she was alone, because of her own selfishness. And even if she’d had the strength to pick up the phone and call, there was no guarantee Lottie would answer, not after the way Frankie had treated her.
“Miss? Is everything okay?”
The politely concerned voice of the saleswoman cut through Frankie’s self-pity, enough at least for her to sound somewhat normal when she answered back. “Yup, everything’s fine. I’m almost done here.”
“Do you need anything? Another size, perhaps?”
Fuck, no. She wasn’t sure she could handle trying on a bigger size without having a complete and total meltdown right there in the store. “No, I’m fine. Thank you.”
Whether the saleswoman believed her or not, she didn’t say, but a moment later came the sound of her heels thudding softly over the carpet as she walked away. Some of the pressure on Frankie’s chest eased, at least enough for her to drag in a breath.
In the end, she settled on a necklace and earring set with gorgeous pink diamonds that had been calling her name since she’d set foot in the store, along with a handbag in a similar shade of rose. Things that would fit even if she went up a couple sizes.
Watching the saleswoman carefully wrap her purchases calmed the last of Frankie’s nerves, and for the first time that day, she actually felt happy. Or, at least as close to happy as she’d been in months. Maybe after this she’d go by the spa and get a facial. Not a massage, not with the extra weight she was carrying around. But something she didn’t have to get naked for would perk her up even more.
With everything packed up in neat little boxes and bags, Frankie pulled one of her credit cards from her wallet and pressed it against the reader.
Declined .
What the hell?
Flashing a smile for the woman behind the counter, Frankie shrugged. Probably just a weird glitch in the system. She returned the card and tried another.
Declined.
A memory surfaced, of Lottie having the exact same issue with card after card at brunch one morning. For her, it had turned out that her father had all but run them into the ground financially. She’d tried selling her virginity to pay off his debts, but lucky for her, Braden had stepped in and saved the day.
Heart in her throat, Frankie tried a third card, swallowing hard against the rising panic when it flashed declined yet again.
They’d really done it. Her asshole parents had actually cut her off. Left her with nothing save for the single trust fund in her name. Savings that would only last so long before she’d need to find some way to replenish them.
She should apologize, and tell the nice lady behind the counter there’d been some kind of issue and she’d be back another time. Walk out of the store with whatever dignity she could muster. While her trust fund was more than enough for her to live on, it would disappear quickly if she made a habit of blowing it on unnecessary purchases.
But try as she might, she couldn’t make herself say the words. Couldn’t bring herself to admit, even to herself, how dire her situation was.
Pulling the debit card that linked to the checking account that was in her name and her name only free from her wallet, she pressed the chip against the reader and silently prayed. And nearly fell to her knees with relief when the purchase finally went through.
She accepted her bags with a tight smile, forcing her feet not to hurry. Not to give away to anyone watching her that anything was at all wrong. She managed to keep up the pretense all the way to the car, where she tossed her bags in the backseat with a sob as she yanked her phone from her purse. Fingers trembling, vision blurred with tears, she hit the button to call Holden’s cell.
Voicemail.
“Fuck!” Doing her damnedest to breathe normally, she scrolled until she found the number for his office.
“Raptor Security,” a surprisingly chipper female voice answered. “How may I direct your call?”
“Um. Holden Prescott, please.”
“Just a second.”
That second seemed like eternity, waiting for Holden to answer. And she nearly screamed with frustration when yet another woman answered instead. “Mr. Prescott’s office. How may I help you?”
“I need to speak with Holden, please.” It’s an emergency . She just stopped herself before tacking that bit of drama onto the end of her request. If his assistant told him it was an emergency and it was just her having a breakdown because her parents cut her off, Holden would be pissed. And she’d already put him through enough bullshit without adding unnecessarily worrying him to the list.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Prescott is in a meeting and isn’t to be disturbed. I can have him call you back at his earliest convenience.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. “No. That’s fine. Um, I’ll just text him.”
Annoyed by herself, humiliated by how fucking needy she was, she ended the call and stared down at her screen. She could text him… but should she? She was supposed to be figuring out if she actually needed him or wanted him, and bugging him at work because she was a little less rich than before definitely seemed like a tick mark in the ‘need’ category.
Letting her head fall back against the headrest of her seat, she closed her eyes and dragged in another deep breath. She could handle this on her own. It was just money. She’d see if Braden needed any help around the club until she could find something… anything else. Maybe Beckett could take a look at her current finances, give her some suggestions. There were plenty of people in her circle who could help her without her running to Daddy at the first little sign of trouble.
Feeling at least a little bit better about things, she put the car in drive and, somehow, made her way home without incident. She left the bags in the car, too embarrassed by their very existence to look at them just then.
Lottie. She wanted Lottie. But with how pissed Lottie rightfully was with her at the moment, she couldn’t call her. Ivy, maybe, but she’d be caught up with the whole Cordelia thing, as she should be. Silver and Ruby were both options, but she didn’t know them nearly as well as the others and calling them for help felt… not wrong, but also not quite right .
She had Portia and Eva, the other half of her and Lottie’s Sunday Brunch group, but they were both out of town for the foreseeable future.
Which meant she was on her own. Again.
“Don’t be such a baby, Legare,” she muttered to herself as she wandered the large, empty house. “Legares don’t lean on anyone. We handle our own shit.”
Yeah, and that’s how you ended up in the hospital, again. By handling your own shit.
Ignoring the nasty little voice in her head, she headed for the kitchen. Chips. Holden always kept a bag of potato chips in the house, his own personal weakness he couldn’t seem to avoid. And if Holden, the strongest person she knew, was allowed a vice or two well, shouldn’t she be allowed one, too?
She found the bag in the pantry and ripped it open, scooping up a handful and shoving them in her mouth. Salty goodness exploded on her tongue, and she let out a low moan as she chewed.
Sweet. She needed something sweet to go with the salty.
No, what you need is to stop. You’re going to hate yourself for this later.
Ignoring the voice, she opened another cabinet, hunting for something sweet. Holden wasn’t the type to keep a ton of junk on hand, much to her growing annoyance, but she did manage to unearth a bag of chocolate chips. Promising herself this was the last thing she’d eat, she opened the bag and dumped a small mountain of them in her mouth. They wouldn’t have been her go-to any other day, but combined with the salt of the chips, they were exactly what she wanted just then.
What you want is your Daddy. Text him. Tell him you need him.
Nope. Not doing that. If he was busy with a client or something, he didn’t need her bullshit distracting him. And besides, she was completely in control. Everyone deserved a little treat from time to time, right?
Just one more snack. Just one more, and then she’d stop.
She was fine. Really.
Completely fine.