Chapter 16
Frankie felt herself drifting to wakefulness, but she fought it, willing slumber to pull her back under.
She tried to block out the brightness of the morning rays by burying her face beneath the cool sheets, but the movement only made her more aware of her surroundings.
The texture she felt was not the scratchy, bleach-scented sheets of Yaya’s guest room.
No, these sheets were buttery soft, almost decadent, and they felt scandalously good against her skin. All of her skin.
The realization struck her like a slap. She was as naked as the day she was born.
Frankie’s eyes shot open, and she blinked several times, willing the blur to resolve into something recognizable.
The room was dim, sunlight slanting through angled blinds and painting tiger stripes across a gray comforter.
Her mouth tasted like a combination of wine cooler, hamburger, and birthday cake.
She squinted as memories came flooding back to her in mental bullet points.
The main headline was she slept with Liam. Before that, she told him about Tristan. Told him about her mom and his dad. She even told him that she loved him. It was past tense, but did that matter? She still loved him. More than ever, actually.
Frankie wasn’t the only one who entered the confession booth, Liam revealed some things.
She found out he’d stayed away from her because he felt guilty about the night they’d spent together, not because he was repulsed by her.
He got a Mighty Mouse tattoo months after they spent that night together.
Over his heart. That placement couldn’t have been accidental.
Liam didn’t do anything accidentally. He might be the most deliberate man on the planet.
Which meant last night hadn’t been an accident either.
She wasn’t totally convinced that she would have believed it had happened if she hadn’t woken up in his bed, naked. But there she was, tucked under his Egyptian cotton sheets with clothes on.
Her hands instinctively pulled the sheet up to her chin, snuggling beneath it, as she heard a soft snort.
The mattress dipped beside her. A tiny, warm, furry body shuffled forward, and before she could react, a slobbery-wet tongue slathered her cheek.
She yelped and tried to retreat, but the mini-beast was relentless.
Two splayed paws landed on either side of her head, pinning her to the mattress as Lucy loomed over her with uncontained jubilation.
“Lucy!” Frankie spluttered, flailing one arm in a vain attempt to shield her face.
Resistance only made her situation worse—her naked shoulder popped into the open, and Lucy, never one to ignore exposed flesh, attacked it with even greater enthusiasm.
The dog’s tail thwacked the headboard in a steady staccato, beating out a rhythm that could have roused the dead.
“Okay, okay! I love you, too!” Frankie giggled as she tried twisting away, but Lucy had Frankie completely at her mercy, nostrils flaring as she snuffled the length of her collarbone.
Frankie surrendered, laughing so hard she nearly snorted, and used her hands to gently push Lucy’s muzzle aside.
“If I get you a treat, will you let me up?”
Lucy seemed to consider the offer before flopping down dramatically, tongue dangling out the side of her mouth, eyes sparkling with canine devotion.
Frankie exhaled, wiping her damp cheek with the corner of the sheet.
She glanced around, hoping to see Liam standing in the doorway, but somehow knowing he wouldn’t be there.
She was correct. When her eyes cast to her left, there was also no Liam, unfortunately.
There was, however, a note. Her stomach dropped. She hoped this wasn’t him saying that last night had been a mistake. She picked it up and saw that this was not an it’s-not-you-it’s-me note.
Had a shift. Coffee is fresh. Bagels in the warmer. Your jeep is outside. Don’t miss me too much.
X
L
She exhaled a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. Not a declaration of love, but not a blow off. She read it again and saw something she hadn’t caught the first time.
“Jeep’s is outside?”
How did he make that happen? She knew that he ran before his shifts, he’d mentioned it on their hike. Had he run all the way to Yaya’s and then driven it back? That was at least five miles.
“How did he do it, Lu Lu?”
Lucy’s big brown eyes stared up at her as her tail thudded heavily against the comforter. Frankie scratched her behind the ears, and Lucy gave a snuffling sigh of bliss before toppling sideways across the mattress, her paws splayed, belly exposed, and tongue lolling like she was drunk on affection.
Frankie chuckled, untangled herself from the sheets, and padded to the bathroom.
The marble tile was warm beneath her toes, the lighting low and spa-like, and hanging on the back of the door was a plush towel that didn’t match any of the others—a detail that struck her as sweetly domestic.
On the counter, sitting beside a shaving kit and aftershave, she found a new toothbrush in its wrapper.
She opened it, started brushing, and, as she did, caught her own reflection in the wide mirror.
Her face looked different today. She couldn’t put her finger on it exactly.
She leaned forward to try and scrutinize her appearance.
The tiny vertical line between her brows nearly vanished, and the soft lavender circles that usually shadowed her eyes were barely visible.
She looked, she realized, refreshed and happy.
She rinsed, and when she dried her mouth, she noticed her clothes.
They were folded in a neat pile on the shelf of the linen closet.
As she retrieved them, she discovered they were warm, as if they’d just come from the dryer.
On instinct, she lifted them to her nose and inhaled.
They had a clean laundry smell, which had always been one of her favorites.
She ran her fingers over the fabric of her sweater, marveling at the chivalry of the gesture.
Liam must have gathered, laundered, and folded them without waking her.
She knew it was wrong to compare, but in all the years she’d been with Tristan, he’d never done one load of her laundry.
He’d never even picked up her dry cleaning.
Frankie got dressed and made the bed. When she finally left the bedroom, Lucy led the charge, barreling ahead with an enormous, well-loved green alligator toy dangling from her jaws.
As the ladies turned from the hallway to the great room, Frankie squinted.
The space was flooded with the kind of golden light that promised a perfect day pouring in from the wall of glass accordion doors that opened onto the deck, framing the backyard and, beyond that, the endless sweep of Hope Falls valley.
In the daylight the kitchen was even more of a showstopper.
The stainless-steel appliances gleamed, reflecting the sun's rays and giving the space a modern and sleek look.
The ten-foot island stretched out in the center of the room, its marble countertops sparkling and smooth.
The dark navy lower cabinets contrasted perfectly against the white uppers, with bronze bar pulls adding a touch of sophistication to the space.
The subway tile backsplash was a classic element, and the white oak floating shelves added a warm and rustic element.
And the copper vent above the stove was one the HGTV Queen of Kitchens herself, Alison Victoria, would approve of.
It looked like the set of a high-end network cooking show.
Liam’s home was beautiful, but it felt clinical and…impersonal. Lonely. Most people who knew him would think that matched his personality, but that wasn’t him. That wasn’t the man in bed last night.
“Your daddy needed you,” Frankie told the puppy as she grabbed the treat she’d promised her from the canister.
Lucy plopped on the ground and worked on the milk bone as Frankie poured herself a coffee, grabbed a bagel, and settled on a stool, taking in the breathtaking view of the town proper. She held the mug with both hands, savoring the heat, as she took a sip.
In the hushed quiet of the morning, Frankie’s imagination went from zero to a hundred, scenes of a life she hadn’t lived began playing in her mind like a movie.
Liam standing at the stove, spatula in hand, smirking at her over his shoulder as he flipped pancakes. Them sitting and eating breakfast together in the morning, not just after some world-changing night, but every day, weekdays as a ritual, weekends as a slow, lingering treat.
She saw herself snuggled next to him on the couch, feet tangled under a throw blanket, arguing about which movie to watch and inevitably breaking his stony-faced, silent persistence with her pleading eyes and promises of sexual favors.
She pictured holidays. Her and Liam on the floor in front of the tree, the fire roaring, with Mariah Carey’s Merry Christmas album playing on repeat as they string popcorn.
Lucy barking at the strands as if she could will them to break and fall to her mouth.
She pictured a Thanksgiving table filled with the family she’d met only the day before, as well as the twins, Yaya, her mom, and Zee.
She imagined summer barbecues in the backyard, a Slip-N-Slide set up on the grass just like they’d had as kids and Liam’s nieces and nephews running in and out with wet hair and demands for lemonade.
Each scenario was so vivid, so detailed, a slow, private smile—that was equal parts hope and disbelief—spread across her face as she sipped her coffee and watched Lucy flop into a sunbeam and commence a heroic, full-body wriggle, alligator still clamped in her teeth after finishing her treat.