Chapter 26 #2
She raises a hand to rub at her chest, trying to ease the tension. It’s the perfect fairy-tale ending, fantastical and otherworldly and special. Charlie and Betty’s love story isn’t normal. So why should the end of their story be any different?
And why should hers?
“That’s beautiful.”
Frannie startles so badly her knees knock into the table. “Why?” she moans, turning to find Elsa leaning over her shoulder, grimacing guiltily.
“Sorry. But that’s wonderful,” she says, moving around Frannie to pull out the chair beside her and sink into it. “Though, I still contend the current ending is better.”
“I will never understand that. You—Betty—they die,” Frannie says, her voice sharp.
Elsa nods, reaching out to take one of Frannie’s twitching hands. “I think your original ending is poetic. To have loved, and have lost, and to go on with your life—it’s very human, isn’t it? The love doesn’t matter less for not lasting forever.”
Even though she wrote it, even though it’s a beautiful sentiment, Frannie wants no part of it.
“Well, we’ll never need to find out. Life is emphatically going to imitate art, in this case,” she says firmly.
Elsa just shakes her head and reaches out for the laptop. Frannie pushes it toward her with a huff, not wanting to argue. Not tonight.
She doesn’t know how long Elsa was standing there, reading while she reviewed her work. She thought she was getting better at knowing when Elsa’s lurking around, but apparently not.
Shit, it’s late already. She pulls out her phone to place an order for her favorite sushi delivery.
Wait … Elsa’s typing.
“What are you doing?” Frannie asks, leaning over to see what she’s up to.
Elsa just smiles and hits the Enter key. There’s the familiar whoosh of Frannie’s Gmail account and Frannie gapes.
“What did you do?”
Elsa lets her take back the computer and Frannie discovers she’s sent the final chapter off to Maribel for her thoughts. Frannie stares at the email, disbelief and irritation replacing the tightness in her chest.
“Okay, I didn’t think this needed to be said, but no more sending my writing to people without asking first. Really shouldn’t have to spell that one out,” Frannie says firmly.
“It was perfect just like that. Raw and real and fresh. I didn’t want you to pick at it.”
Frannie groans. “That’s not a good enough reason. I’m setting a boundary, a ground rule, a—”
Frannie squeaks when Elsa swoops in for a hard kiss.
Oh, she’s still mad, but fuck, can the woman kiss. Frannie loses herself to it, lifting a hand to curl her fingers around Elsa’s long, elegant throat, hanging on. She should be pushing her away to prove her point, but she can’t bring herself to do it.
Elsa regrettably pulls back after a moment—not long enough, never long enough—and smiles at her. “You’re brilliant, but sometimes you get in your own way.”
“Don’t be cute. I’m revoking your laptop privileges if you can’t behave,” Frannie says, the threat greatly diminished by how heavily she’s breathing.
“Please. You like falling asleep with me reading to you far too much for that,” Elsa says smugly.
“I do not—” Frannie starts, but the door opens and Elsa dissolves. “We’re not finished,” she hisses.
“What?” Henry asks, turning from where he’s hanging his jacket on the hook on the back of the door.
“Nothing. Good coffee?” she asks, subtly pushing Elsa’s chair back in.
“Terrible, actually. Not Franklin,” he adds at Frannie’s surprised look. He loves his publicist. “The coffee was weak and the scone we split was bone dry.”
“That’s a tragedy,” Frannie says.
He nods seriously and comes around the kitchen counter to join her at the table. “What did you get up to?”
“I wrote the happily ever after,” she says, sliding her laptop his way.
“Already?”
“I needed a distraction,” Frannie admits.
“Learning how to enjoy success is a skill,” Henry says.
Frannie tries not to show how hard that hits her and stands up, meandering toward the window while he settles in to read. She leans against the windowsill and looks out at the park. At all the people going about their lives like nothing’s changed at all. How odd.
She glances back at Henry, sitting at the dining room table, hunched over her laptop, reading her book. She supposes this will be her new normal now, where she’s part author, part assistant. And she needs to lay some ground rules.
She’s not sure if she’ll be more successful with Henry, but she has to try. She’s going to grow a spine over the next six months if it’s the last thing she does here.
Dear God, she hopes the last thing she does here will be getting Elsa and the kids out, not just putting Henry in his place.
The sushi comes before she can really psyche herself up. She busies herself setting it out for them, trying not to focus on Henry. She can do this. She’s ready. She’ll get her happily ever after. This is the first step.
“It’s great.”
Frannie looks up from opening the eel sauce, surprised. “Yeah?”
“Yes,” Henry says, gently closing her laptop and pushing it to the side. He reaches out for his sushi container with a grin. “I liked the original ending, but this is commercial, and there’s big value in that. Plus, who doesn’t like a happy ending?”
Frannie nods and stuffs a piece of her baked salmon roll into her mouth to avoid having to comment. Her ghost girlfriend didn’t like the happy ending. But that’s Elsa’s problem. She’s getting a happy one whether it’s literarily poignant or not.
Henry starts in on his sashimi and they eat quietly for a few minutes. She’d be happy to just sit, eat, and then do Henry’s transcription for the rest of the night, because there’s no way she’s making it out of today without some actual work. But she needs to have this conversation.
She has to prove to Elsa that she’s serious about this. About building the life she wants. Much as it rankles, she knows staying Henry’s assistant forever isn’t really what she wants. It never was.
She wants Elsa.
“So. Big year ahead,” she says.
“Yeah. Lot of work ahead of you,” he says.
“Right,” Frannie agrees. She takes one last bite of her sushi, and puts down her chopsticks. She can do this. She practiced and everything. “I hope you know I’m so incredibly grateful to have had this opportunity—to have this opportunity. Working with you is fantastic.”
Henry looks up with a smile. “I’m glad.”
“And I know I’ll have a lot to juggle as we get closer to publication, but I think I can remain your assistant, giving my usual hundred and twenty percent for at least six months.
I like the structure of having a workday, and that gives us enough time to get you through the internal launch for Typeset, and find a really good replacement.
I could stay on part-time for a while after that, too, if it would be helpful.
And then, you know, I’m around.” It comes out halting and awkward, but better than she thought it would.
Henry puts down his own chopsticks and steeples his fingers, considering her.
If he thinks he’s being intimidating, he’s never had to try and convince the love of his life to risk her afterlife to travel across a set of power lines.
“That sounds reasonable,” Henry says after a minute.
“It does? It does,” Frannie agrees. “Good.”
“Good,” Henry says, smiling at her. “Glad we got that worked out. Appreciate you bringing it up.”
“Of course,” Frannie says.
They eat quietly for a few minutes and Frannie tries to find her center. Everything’s fine. Everything’s coming up roses, actually. Not even the thorns can bother her.
“So, what’s the second book going to be?” Henry asks.
Or maybe they can. Frannie groans and Henry laughs loudly.