Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
Frankie
I strolled down the Prickle Island shops, snacking on red licorice and boiled candies from Johnny's Rockin' Candy Emporium. The main street was a zany mix of old-timey New England shops, ocean-themed cafés, and luxury boutiques. It was like a rich, nautical Disney World where the old-money New Yorkers came for the summer along with an abundance of summertime staff to keep their estates running. I’d made friends with a few private chefs who frequented the Salty Dog. Maybe they’d have job recommendations for me after the end of the summer season, when everyone went back to the mainland and the population dwindled to only the Lachlan family and about 50 others.
I sucked on an aniseed candy from my waxed confectionary bag. It made my tongue all fizzy and wasn't entirely pleasant at first, but I couldn't help but keep going back for more. I loved the care with which Norbert—the proprietor of Johnny’s Rockin’ Candy Emporium and not, in fact, a fellow named Johnny—made these. He was always willing to indulge my curiosity when I peppered him with culinary questions. And he’d throw in a few extra candies for me whenever I visited.
Probably six months ago, I would've never allowed myself to indulge in a bag of sweets—or at least allow myself to enjoy it. I felt like I was always constantly on a half-diet, always waffling between ignoring a scale and hyperfixating on one. But since moving to Prickle Island, my life wasn’t controlled by numbers anymore, nor the judgement of a body-shaming partner.
I’d never felt such freedom. And everything with Finch . . . the way she looked at me like I should love every inch of myself . . . I was starting to see a different person in the mirror. I was starting to like myself exactly as I was without caveats and conditions.
Nothing needed fixing.
It was such a radical notion to me that I laughed every time I thought about it, as if I’d unlocked some secret code. It was only now that the veil had been pulled back. I was wildly aware of everything, from the advertisements on my phone to the shows I watched to Jake’s passive-aggressive comments. They were all designed to make me hate myself. And I was wildly aware that hating myself would make me spend more money. And then whatever outcomes from spending that money wouldn’t be good enough, so they’d change the rules to the game again forever and ever, always stacking the cards against any kind of self-love I could win if I kept playing their game. There was no winning unless I opted out of the game entirely, and I had finally, finally found the escape hatch.
I knew that everyone else could be loved at any and every size, but I finally believed that I wasn’t the exception to that rule too. I'd always have Finch to thank for helping me truly see that. More than just understand it conceptually, but actually believe it.
Finch had made it abundantly clear we were just fooling around. But our version of “fooling around” felt a lot like something real. We liked to flirt with that line, blending fiction and reality. We blurred the truth to the point where I didn’t really know if I was acting anymore. And maybe, just maybe, I could convince Finch to be something more—or at the very least try. It was probably foolish to even attempt it, but the way she made me feel . . . it made me want to be brave and bold. It made me want to confess all of the feelings building inside me. Even if she didn't reciprocate them, I wanted to tell her, needed to tell her.
And I had the perfect plan to confess the true feelings in my heart: I'd been orchestrating a day off for her behind the scenes already. I was going to make her favorite pesto sandwiches and take her to the beach for the day, and after few summer drinks, I was going to confess that I didn't want to pretend anymore. I was falling in love with her for real.
I was so caught up in the daydream of our romance potentially becoming real that I was nearly bowled over by a man walking in the opposite direction.
"Whoa!" he said. "Frankie?"
I looked up to see Jake's wide blue eyes, a bemused smile curving his thin lips, and for the first time since he’d ended things, it didn't hurt to look at him. I braced for the pang of sorrow, for the fire of revenge, for the nagging nostalgia, but nothing came. Not even the smallest melancholic ache. He was just a person who’d once meant something to me…and didn’t anymore.
"Oh, hey, Jake," I said, straightening my top. "Sorry, I was lost in my own little world there.”
"I can see that," he said, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. “I nearly knocked you into the street.”
“Luckily, there are more bicycles than cars on the island.” I swept a windswept lock of hair behind my ear, and his intense eyes tracked the movement. “So, how are you?"
"I'm doing well.” He tipped his head to a shop across the street. "Olivia is just at the salon, and I'm in charge of buying drinks for our tennis match.”
I eyed the bag in his hand, revealing what appeared to be a six pack of bougie cans. “You need watermelon hard ciders for tennis?”
“The club is having the Shoreline Philharmonic play on the green,” he amended. “We sit out on the grass and listen. It’s pretty boring, hence the drinks.”
“No, it sounds fun," I said and honestly meant it.
“It won’t be the same without the spread you put on. You always made the best food. I would pay good money for one of your quiches again.”
“You can.” My smile was tight as I jokingly added, “You can always buy some from the zoo café. They box the food up in cute little eco-friendly boxes. Perfect for picnics.”
“Thank you for the tip,” Jake replied, and I started wondering if he’d ever release me from this drawling conversation. “So, how are you, Frankie?”
I loved that I could answer honestly. “I’m doing really, really well actually."
"I can see that," Jake said with a chuckle. "You seem happy. So you and Finch are still together I take it?”
"Yes,” I said with a secret smile. "I wasn't planning on falling in love with her so quickly, but here we are."
Jake's smile faltered for a second, his only tell. "That's wonderful."
"I guess everything worked out for a reason," I said, patting his arm. "Olivia seems delightful, really. Hang on to her."
The lines between his brows deepened into a V. “You want me to hang on to my mistress?” he asked skeptically.
“She’s your fiancée now, isn’t she?”
“She is,” Jake quickly corrected. “That’s just very big of you, that’s all.”
"I see how happy she makes you," I said with a shrug. “And it all worked out in the end for both of us.”
He was still a grade A asshole for cheating on me, but I was struggling to find that righteous anger. All I could think about was how much better my life was now that he wasn’t in it. In many ways, him breaking up with me saved me from a lifetime of hiding who I truly was. If we’d stayed together, I might’ve never known my life could be so much better.
“It worked out for the best,” Jake echoed, but I could tell he was feigning nonchalance.
“You and I never really made sense,” I said. “I think we tried our best, but it was just never truly right, don't you think? Like, everything with Finch is just so easy, so right, and I see you have that with Olivia too. I'm happy for you, Jake."
I meant it, but I still deserved a quadrillion gold stars for being the bigger person.
He looked me up and down, hesitating for a second before finally closing the distance and hugging me. "I'm happy for you too, Frankie. You deserve someone amazing.”
I hugged him back, knowing this was something final. We'd had our closure; we'd said our goodbyes. The greatest gift to myself was not thinking about him at all after this. I thought I would go on hating him forever, but I couldn't bring myself to feel that way, not when he’d freed me from a relationship I was bound to be unhappy in, not to mention from really unsatisfying sex. Now that I knew what it could be like, I was never going back.
Jake gave me a final nod and headed past me. I looked at him one last time over my shoulder and my eyes snagged on the figure walking up the steep hill to the front entrance of the zoo.
A smile split my lips as I saw Finch walk up the hill, backlit by the morning sunlight. Tomorrow. I'd tell her all these new revelations. Tomorrow, I'd ask her to stop pretending.
Tomorrow, I’d tell her I loved her.