Chapter 18 #2
Frannie laughs. If Elsa wants to commit petit larceny on her behalf, far be it for Frannie to stop her. “Do we need anything else?” she asks the kids.
“Nope! Present time,” Michael says firmly, gesturing for Elsa and Frannie to sit down on the floor with them. Admittedly, it’s much cozier with the rug they stole from Henry’s storage unit and the cushions from their loft.
Frannie grabs her presents for the kids and hands them across, smiling when Elsa settles right next to her, their thighs pressed flush together.
“I hope you like them,” Frannie says, watching with delight as Bridgette and Michael tear open the presents she wrapped so carefully in her mother’s favorite Hanukkah wrapping paper.
“I did try to find a menorah, but I figured it might be missed,” Elsa whispers.
Frannie smiles. “Maybe I’ll grab an electric one. Open flames in here feels like courting disaster.”
“I can blow them out,” Elsa says indignantly.
“You’re not supposed to,” Frannie tosses back, laughing at her pout. “Defeats the purpose.”
“Mom, look!” Bridgette exclaims.
Elsa and Frannie look over to find her waving the second axolotl Frannie spent far too long at FAO Schwartz to get for her. This one’s pink in a disco suit.
Michael’s staring down at the Samsung tablet she got him. “You didn’t have to,” he whispers.
“I figured it was the easiest way to get you access to Jstor,” Frannie says, smiling at his slack-jawed, wide-eyed expression. “And I’ll use the subscription too. It’s also got a lot of games.”
She couldn’t quite spring for an iPad for all of them to share, but a small tablet was well within her reach, and she figures Elsa can make use of it too. The woman in question’s hand falls heavy on her thigh, and Frannie covers it with her own.
“I love it!” Bridgette squeals, shuffling forward to wrap her arms around Frannie, Michael right behind her.
“We couldn’t get you anything that cool,” Michael says as he pulls back.
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Frannie insists, gesturing at the ceiling with what little she has of her other hand. Bridgette’s practically in her lap. “You guys decorated the office!”
“But we did,” Bridgette says, scrambling off Frannie to grab the two lumpy, brown-paper-wrapped packages off the storage bin. “Here!”
She thrusts them at Frannie, who reluctantly takes her hand back from Elsa.
Inside the first package sits a small charm bracelet made up of the strangest mishmash of beads and charms Frannie’s ever seen.
One of them looks like a sterling silver Tiffany’s book charm, another an old clay bead, some costume jewelry golden beads, and …
“Is that a diamond pendant?” Frannie asks, glancing from Bridgette and Michael to Elsa.
“Maybe,” Elsa says playfully.
“This is beautiful,” Frannie says, holding out her wrist for Bridgette to clasp the bracelet. Her little tongue pokes out of her mouth as she does, and it’s perhaps the cutest thing Frannie’s ever seen. “Thank you so much.”
“Mommy and I collect all the pretty beads in a jar in the loft, and we thought they’d make a nice bracelet,” Bridgette explains.
“Well, I love it, thank you,” Frannie says, reaching out to pull her into another hug.
She’ll kiss the crap out of Elsa for it later. What a piece of living history now on her wrist.
“Open mine!” Michael insists, yanking Bridgette back out of Frannie’s arms.
“Patience,” Elsa chides.
But Bridgette just grins, kneeling next to Michael, as eager as he is. Frannie smiles at them both, feeling the corners of her eyes going wet. She loves these kids so freaking much.
Her breath comes out in a woosh as she forces her trembling fingers to undo Michael’s rather aggressive tape work. She’s never loved kids who weren’t related to her before. And that they seem to love her too—
She really might do anything to stay with them.
“Oh, wow,” she gasps, looking down at the photo album in her lap. She turns to the first page and finds it filled with polaroid pictures of an apartment. The next page has another apartment. And another. And another. “What are these?”
They’re beautiful.
“It’s all the apartments in the building!
” Michael says excitedly. “We found an old polaroid camera in Stella Liderman’s storage unit and a roll of film, so Mom and I snuck into everyone’s apartments to take pictures.
I know you like knowing stuff about the building too,” Michael adds, voice going quiet as Frannie stares down at the album. “Do you—”
“I love it,” Frannie says, reaching out to hug him hard. “This was so much work for you to do. Thank you.” Her voice is tight, and her eyes are definitely wet, and Elsa’s rubbing her back, so she must be crying.
They went to such effort. For her.
“I’m glad you like it,” Michael says brightly, pulling back and laughing. “Don’t cry!”
“I’m just happy,” Frannie insists, taking the tissue Elsa pulls from … somewhere, to dry her eyes. “You guys are the best.”
“You’re pretty great too,” Elsa says while the kids talk over each other, going back to their own presents, neither listening to the other for even a second.
Frannie looks over at Elsa. “Thank you,” she says, leaning in when Elsa does for a lovely, soft kiss.
Frannie can’t fight the little twitch that goes through her at Elsa’s touch, and Elsa wraps an arm around her. Frannie leans into her, resting her head on her shoulder underneath the twinkling lights.
It shouldn’t surprise Frannie that there are other attic lofts above the ninth floor, but somehow, it never occurred to her.
Now, looking at the little loft that Elsa found, and to which she’s dragged someone’s spare air mattress, and pillows, and a rug, and a string of wildly gaudy Valentine’s Day heart lights, Frannie’s delighted, and intimidated, and …
Elsa’s blushing.
“It’s lovely!” Frannie says immediately. Elsa only blushes more. “It is.”
“It’s not a little presumptuous?” Elsa asks.
Frannie looks from the mattress to Elsa and back, and only then does it hit her. They’re not here just to hang out, it’s for—
“You built us a sex den?” comes out of her mouth before she can stop it.
“No!” Elsa squeaks, burying her face in her hands as they stand at the top of the steep little staircase. She peeks through her fingers to meet Frannie’s eyes, her face scarlet. “Well, maybe? If that’s okay?”
Frannie looks at her, incredulous. “If that’s okay?”
“Well, I don’t know!” Elsa exclaims, dropping her hands to stare back at her. “There’s no instruction manual for asking someone if they want to shag a ghost. Don’t look at me like that!”
“Like what?” Frannie asks. She can feel her cheeks split in an uncontainable smile, a flush climbing up her neck.
“Like I’ve gone nutty,” Elsa insists.
“You’re nifty, not nutty,” Frannie tosses back. Elsa lets out a loud hah. “And thoughtful, and of fucking course I want to sleep with you, what kind of question is that?”
“You do?” Elsa asks, all her indignance falling away.
Frannie shakes her head and reaches out to pull Elsa close. She arches onto her toes to press their lips together. Elsa sinks into her, pliable and relaxed, and Frannie smiles against her mouth.
“I’ve wanted to sleep with you since the day you showed up in my office and called me clueless,” Frannie whispers, peppering kisses along her jaw.
“Oblivious,” Elsa corrects her.
“Well, I’m not, and I’ve never been oblivious about you. And this”—Frannie gestures out to the loft—“is lovely. If you want to, I want to.”
Frannie pulls back to meet Elsa’s eyes, which are wide and blue and just a little wet. She smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, her other thumb resting on Elsa’s jumping pulse.
It comes out without any thought at all: “I love you. Of course I want this with you.”
Elsa’s eyes widen further, her jaw drops open, and she lists into Frannie. “You do?” she whispers.
“So much,” Frannie admits, warmth filling her chest at Elsa’s unguarded smile.
Elsa ducks her head and drags her into a fervid kiss, nearly hauling Frannie off her feet. They stay that way for a long time. Everything is teeth and tongues and panted breath, consuming and hot and heady.
A minute, an hour, who knows, later, Elsa pulls back. “I love you too,” she says, her voice low and rough.
Frannie’s cheeks hurt from smiling. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Elsa murmurs, fingers shaking where she’s cradling Frannie’s face in her perfect hands.
But there’s something else in her eyes. Something outside the brilliant joy that’s beating against Frannie’s ribs with the frantic pounding of her heart. It’s something soft; something sad, maybe.
“What’s wrong?” Frannie asks.
Elsa shakes her head. “Nothing. Nothing at all,” she says. Frannie tries to raise one of her eyebrows. She’s been practicing, but the snort Elsa lets out proves she’s still unsuccessful. “I don’t want to ruin the mood.”
“Try me,” Frannie insists. Elsa hesitates. “If we’re doing this—if we’re together, then we’re doing it together, so tell me.”
Elsa sighs, leaning her forehead down to press against Frannie’s. “I have trouble staying in the meanwhile,” she admits.
“In the meanwhile?” Frannie asks.
“Someday—” Her thumbs stroke Frannie’s cheeks, reverent and careful. “Someday, you’ll go on to your next big adventure, and I’m going to miss you.”
Frannie can’t help but tighten her hands against Elsa’s back. “But—”
“But that’s not now,” Elsa continues, her breath warm and tingling across Frannie’s lips. “Everything ends, eventually. But right now, we’re here together, and I want to—I plan to enjoy every moment with you to the fullest.”
And then she’s pulling away to take Frannie’s hands and lead her deeper into the loft, toward the air mattress and the twinkle lights. Toward a beautiful perfection they can share together.