Ten Dollar Drinks #2
“You fuck off!” I laugh. “I’m serious, if I don’t do it, the place goes to market, and who knows what someone else would do with it.”
His gaze is heavy, like an anchor pinning me to my seat.
“Shit, and they just let Joe put that clause in there? Nobody stopped him?”
“Well, the marriage was the lawyer’s idea,” I reply. “It offers more, uh… you know, leverage, when I’m trying to settle his estate. Joe just said I had to ‘settle down,’ which is pretty hard to prove.”
“Ah.” He nods. “Of course, the sanest possible solution.”
“Look, it’s not like I have to stay married or anything, it just seemed like the easiest—”
Frankie nods, faux-apologetically.
“No, no, of course. I totally understand your absurd plan. Are there any contenders yet?”
“Just a bunch of creeps and losers I’ve already dated. You’d think the pool for ‘fake husband to get me my sweet sweet inheritance’ would be deeper, but it really is bottom of the barrel over here.”
My phone vibrates on the table.
JAKE
I know you blocked my number.
Goddammit, Cole must have gotten a hold of his assistant’s phone.
JAKE
What the fuck is your problem? I’m trying to work things out. Pick up the phone.
He must be desperate. In between his social media meltdowns, all he seems to have time to do these days is get drunk and text me.
“Everything okay?” Frankie asks.
I glance up at him, forcing a smile as I snatch up my phone.
“Totally.”
How does this fucker always manage to ruin my goddamn day? He’s like a bad rash.
“You sure?”
I nod, making a mental note to block the number later.
“Yep! Just life stuff.”
An awkward silence seeps between us as Frankie finishes the last few drops of his drink. I want to tell him how crazy Cole’s been acting, the texts, the constant phone calls… But those two hated each other in high school. All I’d be doing is digging up more bad memories.
After a minute or two Frankie checks his watch, tapping the table.
“Well, I should head out. Gotta feed the cat. If she doesn’t get her late night snack, she’ll try to smother me in my sleep.”
“Oh, you have a cat?”
“Yeah, Bugsy.” He flashes me a picture of a gorgeous orange tabby who looks like she’s wearing a pair of little white boots. “She pretty much runs my life.”
“Oh, she’s sweet!” I continue to gush as he flips through a few more pictures.
“Yeah, she looks sweet, but she’ll bite your ankles chasing you up the stairs.”
“I think she’s just making sure you’re getting to bed on time.”
“Well I’ll think about that the next time I’m putting ointment on my scratches.”
I chuckle, draining the last few drops of my martini and grabbing my purse.
“We’re both heading back to Emerald Bay, right?” I ask, a little too enthusiastically. “You wanna catch an Uber together?”
“Sure. We can split it, since you also paid for drinks.”
“Okay, Mr. Chivalry.”
I quickly order us a car as we slide out of the booth and head for the exit, opting to wait a few blocks away from Dominion just for the sake of optics. You never know who’s watching.
“You cold?” He asks, glancing over at me after a few minutes of waiting.
I must be shivering more than I thought. Call me pampered all you want, but I’m pretty used to the good ol’ New York humidity that clings to you like a blanket on nights like this.
“Yeah, but the car’s gonna be here in five—”
Frankie slips off his suit jacket, draping it over me.
“I insist.”
“It’s really okay.”
“Nah, you’re doing me a favor. I have this disease where I need to be a gentleman at least once an hour or I’ll spontaneously combust.”
I snicker, bumping him with my shoulder as the two of us wait in silence.
Frustratingly, every minute or so I have to stop myself from burying my face in his jacket. It smells good, like a mix of cloves, amber, and a little hint of leather. I could live in this thing for the rest of my life.
When I finally steal a glance at Frankie his brows are knit together, and his face is all screwed up the way it used to get when he was working on a really hard math problem.
“Are you regretting giving me your coat?” I tease.
He chuckles, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets as he rocks back and forth on his heels.
“No, no, I’m cool.” He clears his throat. “But I was thinking about your, uh… predicament.”
“What about it?”
“What if it was me?”
He says it a little too quickly, and winces before I even have a chance to respond.
“You?”
“Yeah, I mean… you need a husband, and I don’t mind helping out a friend. Why not team up?”
Oh god, if he’s willing to do this for me, I should… return the favor, right?
The book! He’s writing a book! I can help with that— well, not me, but Phoebe’s well-connected in the literary world. Her friend Janis even runs a publishing house.
“Are you sure? I mean, with everything that happened between us—”
All I would have to do is make a couple of phone calls, and at the very least he’d have someone to look at the manuscript.
“We were stupid kids.” He shakes his head.
“Correction, I was a stupid kid. It wasn’t fair of me to dump that on you, and I’m sorry.
Anyway, feel free to say no and go back to the dating apps, or call an ex-boyfriend if it’s too awkward, but just know that I’m a decent backup plan.
I’d really hate to see you lose the bar. I know how much it means to you.”
A large black car pulls up to the curb, and the conversation stops there.
Frankie helps me into the car and we head toward Emerald Bay in relative silence, each us knowing we can’t be talking about this in an Uber on the off-chance I get recognized.
The driver’s listening to some old church hymns, but I’m focused on the absolute chaos that’s started swirling inside my head.
It’s a terrible idea. Even if it’s fake, it’s going to bring back up years of unresolved bullshit. Am I ready for that? Is he?
I fumble around in my bag, pulling out my phone.
ME
Okay, you’re seriously down to do this?
Frankie waits for a moment before casually pulling his own phone from his pocket, and stares at it for what feels like an eternity before…
FRANKIE
Why not?