40 Jamie
After we finally find a place that’s big enough for all of us- but not so nice it makes me feel like I’m playing dress-up in someone else’s life- we head back to the duplex.
Frankie talks the whole way home, bouncing between ideas- how she wants to decorate, how to set everything up, where things should go. She’s excited, animated in a way I haven’t seen in years- literally- and it should be enough to pull me out of my own head.
It almost works.
I hate that it bothers me, but it does.
It’s fucking weird realizing that for the past month, I’ve only been working on places that are comfortably shitty. Maybe the nice ones don’t have leaking faucets or broken gutters- but I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve been kept in the dark.
And it’s not even the money.
It’s that I didn’t know.
That I feel like this man who I’ve ripped myself open and laid myself bare for was keeping so many secrets about who he even really is.
I shove the thought down by the time we pull up to the duplex.
It’s already dark, the porch light flickering on as we step out of the car, and there’s that same awkward pause at the top of the steps before Ryan and Frankie head to their side and Christian and I go to ours.
It’s fine. It’s why we’re moving. But right now, I hate it.
So I cross the porch and kiss Frankie.
It’s not gentle or tentative- it’s rough, like I’ve been holding back. Which I have.
We’ve spent the last week getting closer again- talking, circling, figuring it out- but I’ve kept my distance, physically. I didn’t want to rush her. Didn’t want her to feel pushed.
But I’ve wanted this for years.
Thought about kissing her like his, holding her like this, more times than I can count.
And somehow, it still catches me off guard because it’s better than I ever imagined.
My hands slide under her thighs and I lift her, and she gasps before wrapping her legs around me automatically, laughter breaking through as I kiss her harder, pulling her close.
For a second, everything else drops away.
“God,” Christian says behind me, amused, “I didn’t expect this to be hot.”
“I know,” Ryan adds. “Watching her is almost as good as touching her.”
She pulls back, still in my arms, and scoffs, breathless and flushed. “I’m right here, you know. I can hear you talking about me.”
Christian chuckles and steps closer. She leans toward him instinctively, and he closes the distance, kissing her while I’m still holding her.
“Okay,” I mutter, heat rolling through me as she squirms between us. “We need to stop.”
Ryan laughs and steps in, sliding a hand to her back. “Come here, baby.”
He pulls her smoothly from my arms into his without setting her down.
“I can walk,” she protests.
“I know,” he says, glancing at Christian and me as he heads for the door. “See you tomorrow.”
“Good night!” Frankie calls over her shoulder as they disappear inside.
Christian and I are left standing there.
He looks at me, eyes heavy, thoughtful. “You good?”
“Yeah,” I say. “You?”
He nods, then clears his throat. “Yeah. Just… that was hotter than I expected.”
I laugh and clap him on the back, steering him toward our door. “Get in there.”
That’s when I catch sight of my dad across the street- leaning against the fence, cigarette glowing orange in the dark.
I must slow, because Christian turns back. He follows my gaze and immediately tenses.
“Don’t worry,” he says quietly. “He didn’t see anything. I mean, he may have seen you and Francesca, so that’s fine.”
It should be reassuring.
Instead, something in me snaps. I grab Christian’s hand and yank him toward me.
Our bodies collide. He’s about three inches taller than me and he looks down at me, startled.
“Jamie- what- ”
I don’t let him finish.
I grab his collar and pull him down, slamming my mouth to his.