Chapter 4
FRANKIE
I spy the stream of dog drool and move out of the way before it lands on me.
“No, Miggy! Go away!” I shoo him with a wave of my arm, but the meathead just sits down and stares at me, long strings of drool hanging from his droopy jowls. I just got home, and barely had time to collapse onto the couch before he trotted right over to spatter me with his slime.
“Francesca, don’t yell at him! He’s a helpless dog.”
My mother’s voice streams from the kitchen. It smells like she’s making mac and cheese, the one thing we can both whip up without burning.
“I just want to lie down for a few minutes without this furball bothering me,” I shout back through the doorway. “It’s not too much to ask.”
“He’s a dog. He’s happy to see you. It’s his nature.”
I flop an arm over my eyes and kick my feet up onto the cushions. “Well, I’m not happy to see him.”
My entire body aches. My guts are still on fire from multiple rounds of tossing my cookies, and I’ve had a tension headache pulsing behind my eyes since noon.
I’m pretty sure I paid out more than I made today covering all the free milkshakes I’d had to give to customers to make up for getting their orders wrong.
I had one happy patron, but for some reason he didn’t tip me.
A hot wave of dog breath washes over my face, and I open my eyes and glare at the dog.
“Miggy, go see Mommy in the kitchen, okay? Go get some mac and cheese.” He doesn’t budge. Naturally. “C’mon, Miggy. Go! Get!”
My mother appears around the corner, stirring a pot with a wooden spoon. “Oh, Francesca, just pet him a little and he’ll leave you alone.”
Oh, hell no. That’s it.
“Don’t CALL ME THAT!” I shout, loud enough to be heard over the dog’s incessant panting.
My mom freezes, looking almost shocked at my outburst. Since my arrival, she’s appeared unflappable. Now, her eyes narrow and her mouth turns down as if I’ve offended her.
“It’s your name,” she replies softly. “I gave it to you. I didn’t give you much in this world, I know that, but I did name all of my girls. And I named them well, Francesca Carina Abriana Abbott.”
Sitting up on the couch, I bury my face in my hands. My eyes burn and I can’t hold back tears. Everything is rushing at me all at once, and at the center of it all is Dante.
There’s a metallic clunk as my mother sets the pot on the coffee table. Her gentle weight sinks into the couch cushion next to me, her hand warm where she presses it against my back. I want to fight her attempt at motherly interest, but I don’t have it in me.
“Frankie. What’s wrong?”
“He called me Francesca,” I choke out between sniffles. “And I’m so tired of thinking about him.”
There’s a beat of silence and then my mom starts rubbing small circles over my back.
“Dante?” she says, so quietly it’s almost a whisper.
“I don’t want to talk about him. I—I can’t.” My voice cracks on the last word.
“You don’t have to,” she says. “I’m not trying to pry.
But I want you to know…well…you certainly wouldn’t be the first woman in history to choose the wrong man.
Myself included, God knows. But that doesn’t mean you have to suffer for it.
There’s absolutely no shame in leaving him, darling.
Do what’s best for you. I support you, no matter what you choose. ”
As if it’s that easy.
I swipe tears from my eyes and shake my head. “That’s just it, Mom. I didn’t choose him. Dad arranged the marriage, to repay a debt. I had no choice but to go through with it.”
Just like that, the whole tumultuous story is spilling out.
My mom doesn’t say anything as I ramble on about my disastrous marriage, the ups and downs, how I went from despising Dante to loving him without even realizing it.
And how easily he can tear me down. There’s a soft weight on my leg.
Miggy is resting his head on my knee. I didn’t even realize he’d come closer.
I pat his head absently as I finish with, “Even if I can get through divorcing him, I’ll still be stuck with him forever.”
My mom’s brows draw together. “Why do you say that?”
No point in holding back. “I’m pregnant.”
“Oh, Frankie.” She takes my hands in hers and runs her thumbs over my knuckles.
Another wave of tears hits me, and she gets up and returns with a box of tissues. I grab a handful to blot my eyes and my mom sits down next to me again.
“This all must be terrifying for you. But you’re not alone, sweetie. Even though I couldn’t be there for you while you were growing up, I will always be here for you and this baby now.”
I nod as I stroke the dog’s fur, so emotionally raw that I can’t form a proper response.
“And I’m sorry about your marriage, Frankie. I never thought your father would do something like this to you.”
A flash of anger hits me, and I huff a sarcastic laugh. “How could you? You had no idea what was going on at home after you walked out.”
“I know. I let you and your sisters down, and I am sorry. But it wasn’t like you think.”
“How was it, then?” I ask, no malice in my voice—just curiosity. I’ve always wanted answers about why she left, and today might be the day I finally get them.
“He blackmailed me, Frankie. I didn’t want to leave, but…I had no choice. He forced me to abandon you. That’s the truth.”
Her voice is thick with unshed tears. Our eyes connect. I’ve never seen her so quietly desperate. She takes a shaky breath, and my body goes tight with anticipation…and foreboding.
“I wanted to divorce your father after his gambling had gotten out of control the first time. We were on the verge of losing everything. Strange men were knocking on our door at all hours of the night, demanding to see him. He’d come home with split lips, black eyes, an empty bank account.
And the drinking…I went weeks without seeing him sober. And he was so mean.
“So one day I stayed up late and waited for him to come home, and told him I was going to file for divorce and take the three of you with me when I left. I said he could clean up his act and get a lawyer if he wanted to try for shared custody—”
“Did you actually think he’d do that?” I ask.
“I wanted to give him a chance, and I really hoped he would. Hoped he cared enough about his daughters to get sober and quit gambling. But until then, I said, I wouldn’t let him be a part of our lives.
Of course, he was furious. He went ballistic.
Breaking things, yelling, how dare I take his family away, that kind of thing.
But then he calmed down. He talked to me—admitted he had a problem, promised he’d get help.
He wanted to get help. Get better, for all of us. ”
I nod as she talks, her description of my father’s manipulations exactly on point.
“But his debts…that was something he couldn’t fix by himself. But he said I could.”
This is definitely a twist I didn’t see coming. “Wait, you? How?”
My mother straightens her shoulders as if she’s gathering courage.
“It turned out that one of your father’s…associates…had made it obvious that he was interested in me. So your dad made an indecent proposal. I would spend one night in this man’s bed, and in return, he would cover your father’s debts.”
“What?” My stomach drops. I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
“I know. And at first, I said there was no way I would even consider it. But your father convinced me it was the only way. He needed a clean slate to get on the road to recovery. So I…eventually agreed. I wanted him to get better, for you and your sisters, even though I wasn’t going to stay with him.
I did have love for him. He was the father of my children, after all. ”
I still can’t wrap my head around this. “But Mom—”
“Of course, it was all a lie.” She lets out a bitter laugh. “Your father got his money, but my ‘activities’ were photographed, video recorded to make me look like an adulterer. I wouldn’t get a cent in court if I filed for a divorce, and I’d be painted as a whore, an unfit mother.”
Everything she’s saying has the unmistakable ring of truth—an ugly truth. I’m in shock.
“Your father promised he’d take care of you, give you every opportunity, make it so you three would live like royalty in that big house with the horses and all the land.
But I had to walk away, or else he’d divorce me and leave me with nothing, make sure you kids had nothing, too.
I never thought, never in a million years, that he wouldn’t keep his word. ”
Live like royalty? Yeah—in the sense that my sisters and I grew up unloved, kept in the background, more or less raised by a succession of housekeepers…and that I’m now in an arranged marriage. I’d say my father definitely accomplished the whole royalty thing.
“It’s not your fault, Mom,” I tell her. “And I’m—I’m sorry he did that to you.”
“No, don’t apologize for him. I’m the one who’s sorry. But we did have happy times, Frankie. He loved you girls. I truly thought I was doing what was best. I swear, if I’d suspected what he was capable of, how it would all play out, I would’ve never left.”
Both of us are crying now, passing the tissue box back and forth. Miggy is panting at our feet, clearly distressed at seeing us like this. When my mom finally calms down a bit, she fixes a regretful gaze on me.
“Has Dante…ever asked you to do something like I had to do?” she asks carefully. “Something you weren’t comfortable with, or…pushed you too hard in bed?”
I don’t always trust Dante to do the right thing—if I did, I wouldn’t be here right now. But I can’t imagine him ever doing something like what my father did to my mom.
“No,” I say firmly. “Things between us, in that way, have always been…consensual. Maybe not loving, at least not in the beginning. But toward the end, there was love. I’m sure of it.”
“I’m so glad.”
My mother wraps me in a tight hug. I hesitate for a moment before lightly hugging her back. I can’t remember the last time she spoke to me like this. Or held me.
“But I still wish I could punch Dante right in the nose for you,” she goes on.
That gets a weak laugh out of me. “Me, too.”
“I know I wasn’t around to say it, but I do love you. And your sisters.” She squeezes me tighter. This time, I lean into it.
“I think on some level, I knew you did. That was what made you leaving so much worse.”
She just holds me close, as if she can put me back together through sheer force of will.
And maybe herself, too.