Chapter 25
Chapter
Twenty-Five
FRANKIE
Iwoke up the morning after Coop’s birthday with that rare, fragile feeling that things might actually be… okay. Not fixed. Not solved. But okay in the way that meant I wasn’t immediately bracing for impact the second my eyes opened.
The laughter and fun of the day before lingered like a warm hug that had kept me wrapped up all night.
More… Coop’s kiss lingered on my lips and in my body like a quiet echo—not demanding attention or confusing me further, just there.
Solid. Warm. Real. A reminder that I was still capable of joy without everything immediately falling apart afterward.
That alone felt like a victory.
I lay there for a few minutes, listening to the muted sounds of the house waking up—the distant clink of dishes, Jeremy’s soft footsteps, the quiet hum of something mechanical that I still hadn’t identified.
My cats were sprawled around me in various states of ownership, Tabby pressed against my side like she was afraid I might disappear again.
I stroked her fur and let myself breathe.
The cats had settled into the house so much faster, and with far more comfort, than I had.
It helped that Jeremy established a routine.
When I got up and let them out, they would race downstairs to the kitchen where he went through the ritual of feeding them.
I’d managed to feed them all of once since we moved in, Jeremy would shoo me out if he caught me—not that I’d managed to beat him to it beyond that one time.
Tiddles strode up my middle to stand on my chest and stare down at me. As I stroked him with my free hand, he and Tabby both began to purr. “Do you know what Jeremy said about you babies when I told him taking care of you was my responsibility?”
Not remotely impressed, Tiddles shoved his head under my hand in demand. He wanted scritches and pets.
“He said that I had help now and we would share the responsibility.”
Still unimpressed, Tiddles and Tabby seemed to be in competition for who could do more rolling around on me. But it was Tory who sat at the end of the bed and stared.
“Right, less talking, more feeding.” All I had to do was make a move to sit up and the cats were leaping away and swarming toward the bedroom door.
Amusement filtered through me. They were definitely all in on their new routine.
Aware that I’d never get down there before Jeremy fed them, I opened the door and let them race out.
The little thuds on the steps made me laugh and I waited, holding onto the door for Jeremy’s soft greeting.
“Well, there you three are. I am impressed that you let Miss Frankie sleep in this morning. Let’s get you fed…”
I checked the time. Oh. Wow. I had slept in. Today was dress shopping.
Take two.
Well, really take one since yesterday had been a ruse, but I had tried on a dress so—that counted, right?
Making a face at myself, I pulled my hair up and tied it into a ponytail before I grabbed a quick shower. I didn’t want to get my hair wet and I’d washed it the day before. The lavender color had begun to fade some. We’d need to retouch it…
I kind of liked it. I’d just wrapped a towel around my middle and headed out to look for my clothes when a knock sounded at my door.
“Frankie,” Rachel called softly. “You awake?”
“Unfortunately,” I said, and she laughed as she came in.
She took one look at me in my towel and on my way to the closet, and nodded with this small smile that said she was proud of me. “Good,” she said. “Because we’re fixing the dress situation.”
I groaned. “I hate the dress situation.”
“I know,” she said cheerfully. “That’s why I’m here.”
Dress shopping with Rachel was nothing like my ill-fated mall trip with Coop.
For one thing, Rachel didn’t let me spiral.
She handed me dresses without commentary, sat on the bench scrolling through her phone while I changed, and only spoke when I asked—or when something genuinely worked.
“That one,” she said at one point, eyes narrowing slightly as she looked at my reflection. “That’s you.”
I studied myself in the mirror.
The dress was red.
Not loud, stop-sign red. Not glossy or sequined or trying to scream for attention.
This was a deeper shade—wine-dark, almost garnet—rich enough that it felt intentional rather than reckless.
The fabric skimmed instead of clung, soft and fluid, falling in a way that moved when I did, like it was meant to be worn instead of endured.
It was sleeveless, the straps thin but confident, framing my shoulders and collarbone without baring too much.
The neckline dipped just enough to feel feminine without feeling like an invitation, and the waist curved in naturally before the skirt fell away in a gentle A-line that hit mid-thigh. Not princessy. Not severe.
Just… me.
The back was simple—clean lines, a low scoop that showed skin without making it the point. When I turned, the dress turned with me, catching the light in a way that made my reflection feel alive instead of staged.
I didn’t look hidden.
I didn’t look exposed.
I looked… like myself.
Rachel tilted her head, studying me in the mirror. A grin twitched her lips.
“What?” I asked.
Then she snorted. “That dress is… well,” she said, “it’s dangerous.”
I blinked. “Dangerous how?”
She gestured at my reflection, up and down. “That’s a dress that stops a room when you walk in and makes bad decisions look like a damn good idea.”
I laughed despite myself. “Rachel—”
“No,” she cut in, absolutely unrepentant. “Listen to me. That’s not scandal red. That’s consequence red.” Her eyes flicked to mine in the mirror, sharp and pleased. “You walk into Homecoming in that and someone is going to have to sit down and reevaluate their entire personality.”
Heat climbed my cheeks. “You’re exaggerating.”
She grinned. “I am not. I’m being kind.” Then, softer but no less certain, she added, “But if you need to hear me say it, I love it. It’s you.”
“I don’t hate it,” I admitted.
Rachel smiled. “High praise.”
For the first time in days, I felt something unclench in my chest. Not because of the dress specifically, but because of what it represented—choice. Agency. The simple act of deciding something for myself without needing to justify it.
Of course, that was when my mother walked in to join us. Oh. Joy.
Maddy Curtis had a way of entering rooms that made everything immediately about her. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just… decisively. Like the air adjusted to accommodate her presence.
She stopped short when she saw me in the mirror.
Her expression flickered—approval, calculation, concern—all in the space of a second.
“It’s a bit much,” she said finally.
Rachel stiffened beside me.
I turned slowly. “Hi, Mom.”
Her gaze shifted to Rachel, polite but cool. “Rachel.”
“Mrs. Curtis,” Rachel replied evenly.
Maddy turned back to me. “Given everything that’s happening, I’m not sure this is the message we want to send.”
The words hit exactly where she meant them to.
I felt my spine straighten.
“This isn’t about sending any message. I don’t work that way,” I said calmly. “This is just a dress.”
She sighed like I was exhausting her. “Frankie, people are watching you right now. You need to be careful.”
“I am being careful,” I said. “I’m also being me.”
Her lips pressed together. “You should also reconsider your job.”
There it was.
“No,” I said immediately.
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I’m not quitting,” I repeated. “I need the income.”
“You don’t need—”
“I’m paying you back for the car,” I interrupted, my voice still level. “And I intend to keep doing that.”
Maddy’s expression tightened. “Edward would be happy to take care of that.”
“I know,” I said. “While I appreciate the offer, I’m still saying no. I don’t want to be kept or paid off.” It came out a little more biting than I intended. Maddy and Edward were still weird to me. “Especially since he’s technically still married to Archie’s mom.”
Her expression went tight, her eyes furious, and she jerked like I’d slapped her. I didn’t miss how her lips flattened or her nostrils flared. The only thing saving me from a slap right now was the distance between us and the fact we were in a department store and we had witnesses.
Rachel counted too.
“This isn’t about independence,” Maddy said sharply, choosing this particular argument though the look in her eyes told me she was not going to forget my earlier comments. “This is about protecting you.”
“No,” I said quietly. “This is about controlling me.”
The silence that followed was thick and uncomfortable. To her credit, Rachel hadn’t reacted to anything. She still had her phone out, but I could see her watching Maddy from the corner of my eyes. She had focused on my mother like she was ready to leap.
Then… someone cleared their throat and the ballooning tension burst. Maddy startled so hard that it made me flinch and we both turned to see Edward standing there. Hands slipped into the pockets of his dress pants, he studied us both thoughtfully.
I’d forgotten he was even here. The fact he and Maddy showed up at all had been weird enough. But now, as he rocked back and forth, he managed to not look angry or even bothered. Instead, he seemed—intent and focused.
For a brief second, I could see Archie at Edward’s age. Still good looking, still clever, and still looking for a way to fix everything.
“Maddy,” he said gently. “Let’s take a breath.”
She turned on him. “Edward—”
“I know,” he said, the soothing notes in his voice helping to ease some of the anxiety vibrating over the surface of my skin. “I hear you. But Frankie isn’t wrong to want space.”
I watched him carefully.
He turned to me then. “I did move too fast,” he admitted. That alone stunned me, but when he added, “I thought I was helping by making things easier. But I didn’t ask what you needed.”
The honesty startled me.
“I don’t know how to do this perfectly,” he continued. “But I can give you time. Real time.”