Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
FRANKIE
“Your first task is to stop blaming yourself,” Paige says, as I pace back and forth in front of my laptop that’s sitting on the kitchen table. “And maybe sit down because you’re giving me a crick in my neck. It’s like watching a tennis match.”
“I can’t be still. My whole body is so fucking wired it’s jangling.”
It’s been just over twenty-four hours since I kicked Miller out.
Twenty-four hours since I realized I was a total idiot for thinking he could possibly be actually interested in me.
Twenty-four hours since the giant gaping hole that he’s bored through my chest made me realize just exactly how much I’d grown to feel for him.
And twenty-four hours since I decided I am obviously an asshole magnet who needs to never go near another man again.
“Did you sleep last night?” she asks.
“Barely. I’ve tried to tire myself out by throwing all my energy into the prep for the Thanksgiving open day on Saturday.
I’ve made flyers, taken a bunch of pumpkins to the retirement home and shown Grandpa’s new friends how to carve donkey-themed jack-o’-lanterns, made two big photo collages for his talk on the sanctuary’s history, helped set up some of the huts we’ve borrowed from the Christmas festival for the people who’re going to have stalls here, made more orange and brown streamers than I ever thought possible, persuaded Carly from the produce store—who’s quite the artist—to paint some donkey watercolors we can add to the raffle prizes, and tidied up everything outside, which I thought would wipe me out, but no matter how much I exhaust myself, I can’t sleep, because every time I stop moving all I think about is how furious I am at Miller and at myself and what an absolute fucking fool I am. ”
“Jesus Christ. All since yesterday morning?” Paige asks. “I need to lie down after just listening to that. What the hell are you on?”
I hold up my mug. “Coffee.”
“You never drink coffee. So your next task is to cut back on the caffeine.”
“Can’t. I’m exhausted from the not-sleeping and still have a thousand things to get ready in three days. And now I have no help because my one helper turned out to be a lying liar who lied about absolutely everything.”
“To be fair, he didn’t lie about everything.”
I stop mid-pace and stare at her face on the screen. This is not the right time for her devil’s advocate thing. “He lied about who he was and why he was here. He gave me a false name. Have you looked him up?”
“Of course,” she says. “He was Boston’s youngest self-made billionaire at thirty.
He lives in a bougie penthouse with a private pool, stunning views, and a bedroom that’s about ten times the size of my apartment.
He trained as a carpenter but got into developing when he worked for a house-flipper.
He owns a soccer team, seemingly for fun, with three incredibly famous people, all of whom you like. And he’s very, very hot.”
“And very, very a liar,” I counter. “Also, in all those things you read, did you see any mention, even one tiny little mention, of anything good he’s done? Anything that wasn’t for the money? Anything he’s done for anyone except himself?”
“Not all people shout their charity work from the rooftops.”
“Maybe. But he was trying to get me to like him, right? Because he wanted me to trust his completely unbiased advice to sell this place to his company. So he would have said anything he could to make himself look good to me. But he didn’t mention one altruistic thing he’s done with all his… billions.”
Billions.
It’s a staggering concept.
The man I thought I’d gotten to know, who laughed with me, slept in the barn, bought chain saw-patterned undies from the Tractor Trunk, brought his loving family into my home, and who made me orgasm twice within minutes so hard I didn’t know who I was or where I was, turned out to be one of those shitty developers I’ve always hated. He’s one hell of a fucking actor.
“If all he was trying to do was make you think he was a walking saint, he could easily have made up some good works to tell you about,” Paige says in a very measured voice. “But he didn’t.”
I grunt, completely unwilling to listen to any defense of his behavior.
“Could you consider,” she asks, “just for a second, like one second, and I know this is a big ask so don’t jump down my throat, just pause for a moment before you answer—”
“If you’re asking me to consider something good about him, no. No, I will not.”
“Frankie, will you please stand still? You’re a blur across my screen.”
I stop pacing and rest my forearms on the back of the chair facing the laptop, my coffee cupped in both hands.
“Go on.” I let out a long, low sigh.
“Pause before you answer, remember?”
I give her a reluctant nod.
“Could you consider, just for one second, that perhaps both things are true?”
“Both what things?”
“That he lied to you, but also that he’s crazy about you and realizes he made a terrible mistake.”
“No, no, no.” I bolt upright. “This is one circumstance under which you are not allowed to do that.”
“Not allowed to do what?”
“That thing that you do. Where you try to make me see the other side. Not with this. No, I can not, absolu—”
“So much for pausing for a second.” She rolls her eyes.
“Okay, well, even if both things are true, he still came here to lie to me or whoever it was he found here.” I resume the pacing because it’s either that or start throwing things around the room.
“And even if he did end up really liking me, it doesn’t make his initial intentions okay.
That plan to come here and deceive whoever the owner of this property was into selling to him still happened.
He’s still the person who cooked that up.
Still the person who thought that was a reasonable thing to do.
And that still makes him a total asshole. ”
But I guess it is possible he maybe did end up really liking me. Was that part actually the truth?
Ugh, what’s wrong with me? That’s too ridiculous to even consider.
“You said he was trying to get back at the other guy, though, right?” Paige says.
“So?” I glare at her and throw a hand to the ceiling.
“So, he was trying to get back at a guy who shat all over his family and made them virtually homeless.”
“Again, so?”
“Sooo.” That’s the same patient tone she used when she was trying to explain Excel formulas to me and I just couldn’t get them.
Still can’t. “He was fired up about defending his family from how badly that asswipe had treated them. He was prepared to go to any lengths to get justice for them. In other circumstances you might consider that an admirable quality.”
“Standing up for your family isn’t a defense if it involves deceiving a stranger and then sleeping with them.”
“But isn’t that exactly what you’re doing? I mean, without the sleeping with someone part.” She pauses to think for a second. “Actually, also without the deceiving someone part.”
“Am I supposed to understand what you’re talking about?”
“I mean,” she says, “the whole reason you’re back in Warm Springs is to do the best for your grandpa, to look after the sanctuary while he gets better.
And now you’re fighting to make the place solvent so you don’t have to sell it and also to keep your grandma’s memory alive.
And you’ll stop at nothing to do all those things, right?
You’ll fight as hard as it takes for your family, right? ”
“If you’re trying to say that Miller Malone and I are actually the same deep down, I’ll make sure Dickish Darren is your boss.”
“Ah-ha.” Paige raises a finger of victory in the air. “And that would be you getting revenge on me for me doing something that hurt you. See, even the best of us have a vengeful streak when it comes to looking out for the people we care about.”
“It’s not funny,” I protest.
“Okay.” She shrugs, her tone suddenly casual, like she couldn’t give a damn. “Then stop thinking about him and move on.”
A sharp pain shoots across my chest. Why is that one sentence, out of all the things she’s said, the one that stabs at my ribs the most?
“Why are you so eager to defend him, anyway?” I ask.
“Because he just doesn’t seem like a bad person.
” She looks to the side and scrolls her mouse.
“I have about a hundred and forty tabs open here with interviews and articles about him and his company, and I can’t find anyone who has a bad thing to say about him.
The opposite in fact. All his buildings for the last five years have a special environmentally friendly certificate.
He won an award for a green roof project that a bunch of animal science people say is good for the Boston bird population. ”
“Animal science people? Is that a technical term?”
“Oh, you know what I mean. And don’t try to change the subject.
” She dismisses me with her hand and turns her attention back to her hundred and forty tabs.
“In one building the first ten floors were offered at a lower price to people in the emergency services. Another has a first-of-its-kind education room where kids who are homeschooled can get together and not feel isolated. And also, everything he’s done with his property company shows he’s a financial fucking genius—well, not the purchase of the soccer club, that seems like a money pit, but at least it shows he’s passionate about something and maybe has a fun side. ”
She looks directly into her camera, eyes staring at me, wide in awe.
“Oh, that’s all PR bullshit. You know that,” I object. “If I were marketing his buildings, those are exactly the parts of them that I’d mention in the press releases too.”
“Also.” She holds up a finger to emphasize her point. “I’m damn sure that Leo Johanssen, Prince Oliver, and especially Chase Cooper, who pretty much makes a living from being the most perfect person on the planet, would never go into business with an asshole who might damage their reputations.”