Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Finch
I'd spent the last few hours filling in patient charts and being woefully aware of the fact that Frankie was in the apartment above me. When I’d brought her back the night before, I’d made myself scarce so she could settle in, making up excuses of needing to start my day. But now I needed to face the fact that we would be sharing my apartment together for the foreseeable future . . . and I needed to not be super weird about it.
Frankie had seemed pleasantly surprised with the space at least, even though her bedroom was literally only a bed and an old banana box that Wren had converted into a bedside table as one of her many arts and crafts projects.
I spent my day thinking about Frankie, about how we were now roommates, and hoping that it wouldn’t make our dynamic strained. At last, I decided it was time for bed. I checked on all the patients one last time before setting the alarms and turning off the lights for the night. When I entered the apartment, Frankie was sitting on the couch, watching TV, bundled up in wool socks, black leggings, and a gray hoodie. Her hair was still wet and that freshly showered smell filled the room.
"Hey," she said, sitting a little straighter.
"Hey," I added just as awkwardly. Why did this feel so different than the million other times I’d seen her? She was here, in my apartment, her presence feeling so much more intimate in my space. "How was your day?"
"Chaotic," she said, slumping back down on the couch.
I wandered over to the fridge. “Same.”
"You hungry? I can cook something." Frankie was about to leap off the couch to help when I held up a hand, and she stalled, poised in a half-crouch.
"You don't have to earn your keep here, Goldilocks,” I said, fishing around in the fridge. “You’ve been cooking all day.”
"I just really appreciate you letting me stay here," she said. "I'm sorry if it's weird, me being here.”
"Honestly, it's nice," I replied. "I don't necessarily miss living with all of my siblings, but I do miss having someone around at night." It was probably why I brought home someone several nights a week . . . I was too busy for a relationship, but I didn't really like being alone either, even if the rest of my family was literally only a minute's walk away.
Frankie hummed in agreement. “I understand. I’ve never lived alone."
I extracted myself from pilfering in the fridge to look at her. "You've never lived alone?"
"Well, I had roommates in college, and then I shared an apartment with some people for a while. Who can afford to live alone these days, you know? And then I met Jake so . . . yeah. After the summer, I might look at some shared apartment rentals or something. I don't really like the idea of getting my belt loop stuck on the door and dying before someone comes to rescue me."
I laughed as I opened the fridge again. "Knowing you, I think that's wise. Otherwise I’d have to sail to the mainland to rescue you.” I pulled out a Tupperware container.
"Seriously, you don't have to cook,” Frankie called from behind me. “You must be exhausted too.”
"Mom's recipe," I said, waggling the container of spaghetti. "Is reheating acceptable, m’lady?”
She chuckled. “I’ll allow it.”
I started plating up the food. "Though, I will have you know I'm an excellent cook when I have the time to be. Nothing compared to you, of course, but I know my way around the kitchen.”
"And when is this mythical free time you have?”
"Christmas maybe," I admitted. "When Lark and Logan come to visit and we have two extra pairs of hands, I enjoy some leisure cooking."
"Given your attention to detail, I bet you're a natural."
I gave her a wink. "I'm no Francesca Benedetti.”
She laughed and toyed with her hoodie strings. "It's nice having someone cook for me for once. Jake never cooked anything. He said why would he when I was so much better at it."
"Every day, I become more and more confused how you ever were with a guy like that." I really wanted to stab him with a fork.
Frankie let out a groaning breath. “It’s really only in hindsight that you see all of those things, you know?"
"I don't know,” I countered. “He sounds pretty awful."
"To be fair, I really have no interest currently in sharing any of his good qualities."
"And I have no interest in ever thinking better of him,” I said, “so please don't share them with me."
I took the hot bowls out of the microwave and stuck a fork in each, setting them at my four-seater dining table wedged into the corner of the kitchen, living, dining room.
Frankie got up and wandered over. "Thank you. I'll bring back some food from the Peacock tomorrow for dinner to make it up to you."
"You don't need to prove yourself to me," I reminded her, grabbing the bag of cheese from the fridge door without looking. I held it aloft. "Parmesan?"
"A girl after my own heart," Frankie said with a laugh. "Yes please."
I passed her the bag, and she dumped a heaping pile on her pasta before passing it back to me, where I heaped an even larger pile on mine. "I like my meals 50% pasta, 50% parmesan cheese," I told her.
She grinned as she swirled her spaghetti. “And this is why we get along so well.”
"Want to put on a show?" I asked as I started Hoover-ing down my meal. "I've got a few queued up." I started scrolling through the thumbnails.
"Oh, Deadloch ! I love that show,” Frankie said as I scrolled past.
“I’ve been meaning to watch.”
“You haven’t seen it yet?” Her fork clattered against her plate. “We have to watch it." Her tired energy immediately sprung back to life. "But be warned, you will get addicted and want to binge-watch the whole thing, but we have to wake up at the butt crack of dawn so we have to swear only one episode per night."
"Does this show come with many more caveats and rules?" I teased.
She rolled her eyes. "Just hit play already, we're wasting time."
I laughed and put the show on, feeling Frankie's enthusiasm vibrating off her. It was infectious. I loved even more how much she wanted to share it with me. Maybe having a roommate slash fake girlfriend was just the thing I needed to get through the summer.