Chapter 16 #2
Frankie’s gaze then drifted to the far end of the deck, to the stretch of fence that bordered the neighbor’s yard, and she got a flash, as real as a memory, of a wedding ceremony under a string of bistro lights.
She saw herself in a white dress, holding a bouquet of wildflowers, with Liam at her side, unsmiling but soft-eyed.
The next scene was her sitting on the bathroom floor, staring at a positive pregnancy test, her hands shaking, and her heart impossibly full.
She saw her and Liam painting a nursery, her trying to put the crib together without looking at the directions, and him coming in, taking it apart, and putting it together the right way.
She saw herself sitting on this same kitchen island, hair in a messy bun, shirt covered in formula, cradling a squalling infant while Liam moved through the room making bottles and sandwiches and soothing both of them with a kind of patient, practiced gentleness.
She saw the years roll forward, first steps, scraped knees, school projects, proms, graduations, college drop-offs, and, in a final, impossible flash, the two of them in their eighties, on the porch, holding hands and watching the next generation run wild across the lawn.
The fact that her mind had summoned these visions—snapshots of a life she’d never lived—unprompted both terrified and thrilled her in equal measure. She’d never been afraid of wanting things, as long as the things were in her control to attain. These were not.
But as she finished her coffee and watched Lucy attack her stuffed animal, she realized she didn’t just want this life.
She needed it. She needed Liam. She needed the quiet and the chaos, the dog hair and the kids, the mismatched towels and the future that stretched out in front of her like a road she’d finally been allowed to walk.
And in her body, that’s how it felt, like it had already happened.
She felt like she was experiencing déjà vu of the future.
Out of habit, she grabbed her phone and sent Zee a voice note asking him if that phenomenon had ever happened to him. She pressed send, despite him still being out of the country. Every time he went off-grid, she continued to communicate with him the same way she would if she saw him every day.
It didn’t take a psychologist to figure out that after losing her dad at the age of four suddenly and unexpectantly, and the second most important man in her life at eighteen—for all intents and purposes the same way, one day he was there, the next he was gone—she had serious abandonment issues.
So, carrying on as if Zee was just around the corner, a text away, even if he was halfway around the world and unreachable, was how she coped.
Once she finished her delicious coffee and bagels, she cleaned up and grabbed her purse off the counter. Lucy, who had fallen asleep on the rug in a pool of sunshine, followed her to the door, tail wagging and whining.
Frankie looked into her big brown eyes and then around the house, it seemed so enormous compared to her. She didn’t want to leave her by herself. What if she got scared or just lonely?
“Do you want to come with me?”
Lucy answered by standing on her back legs, placing her front legs on Frankie’s shins.
“Okay.” It was settled.
She went around grabbing a few things she’d need, including her leash and some toys, then shot a quick text to Liam to let him know that Lucy was going to hang with her today.
Frankie drove across town with Lucy riding on her lap, her pink tongue hanging out the side of her mouth and nose smushed against the glass of the driver’s side window as if she were still in pursuit of her next great love, which, in that moment, was every smell in downtown Hope Falls.
When she walked into Yaya’s, she knew the house was empty, she’d gotten an alert of activity from the Ring cam earlier.
After checking the footage, she saw that Renata picked Yaya up, she assumed it was to take her to visit Arthur.
The second Frankie set Lucy down on the floor, she ran straight to Garfield’s food dish, which was licked clean.
That didn’t deter Lucy from giving it a good once-over herself.
Frankie left her working on the empty bowl in the kitchen and headed to the bathroom.
She got undressed, and her fingers ran over the faint bruise on her hip as the memory of Liam’s tenderness infused a sense of protection and love through her.
She shook it off, determined not to make too much of the night they’d shared.
From the Kevin-Bacon-in-the-waiting-room She’s Having a Baby movie montage that played in her head earlier, it seemed her subconscious had that covered.
They slept together. It was one night, not a promise of forever.
She ran the shower hot and stood under it until her skin tingled.
The entire time, the only thing she could think about was Liam.
She couldn’t help it. No matter what she tried to think about, all roads led back to him.
The way he’d asked her why she’d hidden from him.
The way he’d kissed her in the hall. The look in his eyes when she’d walked out of the bathroom in her bra and underwear.
The look on Liam’s face when she’d seen his tattoo.
The feeling of his heart pounding under her cheek.
The entire night kept playing on repeat as she got out of the shower, dried off, ran a brush through her hair, lathered her body with lotion, and slipped into jeans and an old t-shirt.
She was distracted, wondering what Liam’s thoughts on their night of debauchery were, as she padded barefoot to the kitchen and heard the distinct sound of glass breaking.
“Shit.”
She hurried down the hall and found Lucy cowering beneath the kitchen table chair. Garfield, totally unbothered, was weaving his way through the top shelf of Yaya’s bookshelves with an air of superiority and disdain that only a twenty-pound, spoiled-rotten tabby could pull off.
“Another one bites the dust.” Frankie shook her head as she knelt, picking up tiny shreds of pink and green glass off the parquet floor. If she had to guess, she would say Yaya was now a pelican figurine down.
She’d been in Hope Falls for about four weeks, this was the dozenth tchotchke to meet its ultimate demise thanks to Garfield’s, Frankie wasn’t one to fat-shame, so she would just say his less-than-svelte figure.
It wasn’t entirely the cat’s fault. Yaya’s living room looked like a mad scientist’s laboratory had crashed into a flea market or hospital gift shop.
Beakers—well, technically old glass jars—held floral arrangements in various states of decay on every surface and knickknacks that multiplied by the day.
They were like gremlins that got wet after midnight.
She had no clue where they came from, but every morning when she woke up, she swore there were at least ten more on the shelves.
Frankie didn’t want to use the word “hoarder,” but it had taken her three hours, one hundred and eighty minutes, to dust the two-hundred-foot space the first week she arrived. She’d gotten it down to forty-five minutes, once per week, but it was still quite the chore.
During her initial deep clean Frankie gently broached the subject of thinning out Yaya’s ‘collection.’ It hadn’t gone well.
“I heard that they are having a block yard sale,” Frankie mentioned as she took great care to put each Precious Moments figurine in the exact position Yaya had arranged them in.
“Good for them! What is that to do with me?” Yaya’s hands flew in the air. “I have nothing for sale! These are treasures!”
“Right.” Frankie had bitten her tongue so hard she tasted metal from the figurative blood filling her mouth.
As she dropped the remains of the glass pelican, RIP, in the trash, Lucy let out an abrupt, piercing bark and took off for the front door, claws spinning on the hardwood. Frankie was right behind her, instructing her to hush.
“Sit,” she commanded.
Lucy managed to plop on her hind legs, despite her backend wiggling wildly.
“Stay,” Frankie instructed as she opened the door and gasped.
A huge bouquet of peonies, probably forty peonies, was in front of her. It was the largest bouquet she’d ever seen.
He knows. Tristan figured out what she saw. In all the years they’d been together, he never remembered her favorite flower was peonies, not roses. She’d only told him once, it was during a big fight a couple of years into their relationship. He was pulling out the big guns now.
“Delivery for Francesca Costas.” A man’s voice came from behind the flowers.
“Uh, that’s me,” she said.
The delivery man handed her a clipboard, she scribbled a messy signature and took the flowers, their fragrance was sharp and clean.
“Thank you.” She shut the door and brought the bouquet to the kitchen.
She unwrapped the flowers and tried to put them in a single vase, but they wouldn’t fit.
She tried to split them in two, but that didn’t work either.
She ended up having to split it into three separate floral arrangements.
Thankfully, if there was one thing this house was not in a shortage of, it was glass vases.
After she finished, she cleaned up the area where she’d prepared them, then sat down at the table with the simple white envelope that said “Frankie” on it, bracing herself to read the worst apology of her life.
When she opened it, she wasn’t ready for the words she saw.
In fact, she had to read it several times.
Waking up and seeing your beautiful face this morning was the happiest I’ve ever felt in my life. Leaving you in bed was the hardest thing I’ve had to do. I’ve never played hooky, but I was very tempted. Hope I see you tonight. Round two?
XXX
L
Frankie felt tears fill her eyes, ridiculous and sudden. These weren’t apology flowers. These were… she didn’t know what they were.
How did Liam know that peonies were her favorite flower?