Chapter 11
“Is it a special place like a building, or is it a town we’re going to?
” Frankie asked her twentieth question, trying to gather clues to Sherlock Holmes her way into figuring out their destination before arriving.
This time adding the twist of using Lucy, who was curled up sound asleep on her lap, as the front to her fact-finding mission. “Lu Lu asked, not me?”
Liam ignored her sad attempt, keeping his eyes trained on the road ahead of him.
The closer they got, the more he wondered if this was actually a good idea.
He wasn’t an impulsive person. If anything, he was overly cautious, deliberate, and premeditated to a fault.
This behavior was out of character, but yesterday, as he left Yaya’s, it felt like the most natural thing in the world to bring Frankie today.
“Come on, just tell me.” Frankie’s tone changed as she stomped her feet on the footwell in frustration, throwing a mini tantrum. “I hate surprises.”
Liam’s eyes sliced to the right, giving her a glance communicating she was full of shit.
“Okay fine, I love surprises, but in a love/hate kinda way.” She sighed as he turned off the highway, and she turned her attention out the passenger window, scrutinizing every tree they passed, trying to find a clue as they traveled the nondescript winding tree-lined road.
That was the thing about mountain roads, they all sort of looked the same. “Why can’t you just tell me?”
Liam was acutely aware that it was driving Frankie crazy not having any idea where they were going.
He had to admit part of the reason he wasn’t giving into her demands was purely selfish.
The last thing he wanted was to have more deep talks or moments with his brother’s fiancée.
Keeping her in the dark was keeping her occupied.
If she knew what was in store for her, it would open up a can of emotional question worms he was absolutely not ready to answer.
“Please? I would tell you, especially if it was a surprise.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“Yes, it does,” she doubled down. “If I was going to surprise you, but you wanted to know, I would totally tell you.”
“I guess you’re nicer than me.”
“No, I’m not!” she refuted adamantly.
He grinned. “I know.”
“Ahh!” she gasped in offense as it dawned on her that she’d walked right into admitting that he was nicer and playfully smacked him on his arm.
“See.” He tilted his chin down toward his bicep, where she’d just swatted him, indicating it as Exhibit A of her not nice behavior.
“You are such a brat!”
In his entire life, Frankie was the only one who had ever called him a brat. It wasn’t the first time she’d accused him of being that particular four-letter noun. He found it endearing. Adorable, even.
“Just tell me! Come on, I’m going to know soon anyway, so why does it matter if you tell me a few minutes early?”
“Exactly, you’re going to find out soon anyway, so why does it matter if you wait a few minutes?” He played an Uno Reverse card on her argument.
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it!” She sighed. “If you tell me, I’ll do all the art for your practice for free.”
She was at the bargaining stage. He remembered this stage well.
When she was eleven and found out his mom had told him what she’d gotten Frankie for Christmas, she told him that she would clean his room for a year if he’d tell her.
He wasn’t sure why it drove her so crazy not to know information.
If he had to guess, he would say it had something to do with growing up around all boys, being the youngest, and having brothers who were twins.
From a sociology standpoint, she was born on the back foot of being left out.
“I don’t mind paying.”
“I didn’t want it to come to this…”
Liam couldn’t wait to hear this. They had arrived at the threatening stage.
He wondered what she had that she intended to threaten him with.
When she was nine, she told him if he didn’t tell her what Niko and Tristan got in trouble for when they got grounded together, she was going to tell his parents Sarah Mason snuck in his window and that he had weed in a canister in his closet.
He didn’t even know that she knew what weed was, much less that she knew he had some in his closet.
There was no way he was going to tell her that the boys got in trouble for looking at porn on a computer, so he told her to go ahead and tell them.
She never did, he knew she wouldn’t. He always knew her threats were empty.
She would never do anything to hurt someone she cared about.
“If you don’t tell me, I’m going to tell all the girls at the next book club that your nickname is Dr. Dreamy.”
He wasn’t sure how she knew that, but he honestly didn’t care even if she did follow through with that threat.
Knowing it would irritate her more than if he responded, Liam flicked his thumb at the steering wheel’s audio controls, cranking up the music with all the subtlety of a man slamming a gavel.
The speakers blared Van Morrison’s “Brown Eyed Girl,” a song that had always reminded him of Frankie.
The opening chords were so loud that Lucy’s ears perked up from her nap.
“Ha ha. So funny!” Frankie shouted as she reached out and turned the volume down herself. “You’re going to damage Lucy’s eardrums, so now you have to tell me,” she stated with the authority of a judge rendering her verdict.
Liam barely glanced at her, but his lips twitched in a smile. “I have to tell you, so Lucy’s hearing doesn’t get damaged?” He made it clear by his tone that her reasoning made about as much sense as saying that ice cream needs to have a birth certificate so it can get a driver’s license.
“Yes,” she insisted, as if the case was now settled.
When she realized he wasn’t biting, she went back to staring out the passenger window, where the trees on the mountain road blurred in the late-morning light.
Just below the music, there was a hush now in the car, the kind of anticipatory stillness that felt like the breath before a punchline.
Frankie was so busy scrutinizing every curve in the road for a hint that she completely missed the moment when the scenery opened up and the car slowed to a crawl.
“Okay, I’ll tell you.” He pulled to a stop in front of a beautiful craftsman-style home that overlooked a sapphire lake. “We’re here.”
Her head spun to the windshield. The front yard was neatly edged, and bouquets of brightly colored balloons were tied to every pillar on the wraparound porch.
From their vantage point, there was an obscured view of the backyard, revealing a blur of children running around and adults standing in groups of two and three with drinks in hand supervising.
“What is this?” she asked.
“A birthday party.” Liam reached behind her seat and retrieved a large pink gift bag with a cartoon princess riding a unicorn. The tissue paper was wrinkled but fluffily arranged and sticking out the top.
“Whose?” Her eyes were wide.
“My niece, Finley. She’s turning eight.” He turned the bag to reveal the large cloud-shaped number eight.
Frankie’s face cycled through at least three distinct emotions—bewilderment, suspicion, and then a dawning realization that bordered on panic.
“Wait, this is your family, family?” she whispered. “You brought me to meet your other family?”
“You already met Poppy.”
“I know, but that was…this is…” Frankie started shaking her head back and forth.
Lucy sat up and started whining as she sniffed the air, most likely smelling whatever was on the BBQ.
Frankie looked at the bag. “I don’t have a present.”
“I put both our names on this.” He could see she was freaking out, and Liam was surprised at her reaction.
He thought she’d be happy to meet his family.
But clearly, he was wrong because his bringing her had triggered a fight-or-flight response in her, and it looked like flight was winning.
Her eyes were darting to and fro rapidly in search of an emergency exit.
He put his hand on the steering wheel and pressed the ignition button.
“If you don’t want to meet them, I can take you home—”
“No!” she shouted as she grabbed his forearm.
He turned to look at her and saw her eyes were glistening with unshed emotion.
She sniffed and removed her hand from his arm as she shook her head and took a deep, slow, calming breath.
“I want to meet them. Of course I do, I just…I didn’t think you would want me to…
it’s just a surprise.” She took another even deeper breath.
“Are you at least going to tell me who’s going to be here or make me go in blind? ”
He saw that she was beginning to relax and sound more like herself.
He took his hand off the ignition button, but he was going to watch her like a hawk.
If at any point she seemed overwhelmed, he’d punch the eject button and get them the hell out of there.
“Pretty much everyone should be here. My father’s wife is Teresa, and—”