Page 38 of My Dearest Mackenzie

“Truth,” Frances agreed. “Anyway, Jimmy and Sally only had one kid, my dad, James Jr. My grandma worked hard with my Paps to run the business. All the pictures of my dad as a baby are of him in a playpen in the back office or being carted around the store in my mom’s arms. And the yearly Christmas photo in the sofa section with Santa. Most kids were taken to the mall, but Paps brought Santa to the store. My dad continued the tradition, and it became a big thing to come to James Furniture to get a pic with Santa. He’d advertise the big event and it was a real see-and-be-seen for our neighborhood. It was good for sales too.”

“James Furniture, huh?”

She nodded.

“Promise not to get too excited and jump in the pool naked?” I felt an eyebrow raise as I asked her. Being with Frances was fun, easy, natural—whatever word you would use to describe a relationship that felt good.

A giggle escaped her. “Yes, I swear!”

I loved the ease with which we ebbed and flowed between the serious and silly. It felt comfortable, like a worn-in glove, one you could easily slip on. “Unlike you, I haven’t investigated you fully. So I didn’t know about James Furniture. But now that you say it, I have a recollection. When I was around ten, Milly took us there. It was wintertime, and she had her driver take us to Long Island. I remember it being a long car ride and we played tic-tac-toe in the back seat on an old tablet. When we got to the parking lot, Milly had her driver take me for fast food while she went in to order an armoire. I had no idea why we drove that far for a piece of furniture, and I was mad because I saw the sign for Santa and wanted to go in. ‘We don’t celebrate Christmas,’ Milly said. It was one of the few times, she ever spoke sternly to me.”

“Wow. I wonder if she saw Paps…”

Serena interrupted and asked if we were ready to eat, and we moved to the outdoor dining table, overlooking the pool. I carried our drinks, which Serena’s assistant quickly refreshed.

“Don’t forget where we were. I want to hear more about your family.” I was happy for the break in the scene. I didn’t know why I went there with that memory…reminiscing about Milly maybe going to see Jimmy… It was opening Pandora’s box. There was also the mention of the armoire now, sitting like an elephant in the room. It was only a matter of time before Frances inquired about the gigantic piece of furniture.

As we sat, Frances took the hint and asked, “What about you? Like you said, I know you don’t do Santa, but what were your holiday traditions?”

This made me chuckle.

Frances took a bite of her fish and hummed her pleasure. I didn’t make it, but the fact that I’d provided it did something to me. I wanted to please Frances in a way I never wanted to care for someone. “Not much. When I was young, we fried potato latkes and doughnuts. As you know, Milly was big into the kitchen and making everything herself. My dad always had his assistant buy me the latest and greatest toys or video games. When I got to be around eight, they started dragging me to the office holiday party. That was my consolation for not having a mom—I got to go to the adults’ celebration. I’d sit in the corner in my navy suit, downing Roy Rogers. You know what they are?”

“Of course I do. The male version of a Shirley Temple! Sugary cherry juice and Seven-Up. I used to order mine with extra cherries. By the way, since you never got to do it, this year I have to take you to meet Santa. He can talk to Hanukkah Harry on your behalf.” It was silliness, but it was pure Frances, taking a painful moment and making it better.

I told her it was a plan and that I was hoping for a Lego set before conversation moved into safer territory—whether ties were coming back in style.

“I feel a bit targeted… I don’t like ties…”

“That’s because you don’t need one for people to take you seriously. Most men need one to keep others in line. You do that with a look.”

The chat could have taken a turn toward dirty talk, but I kept it PG.

After dinner, we got a ride to the inlet and took a walk on the beach, our hands easily slipping together. I felt Frances lean her head on my shoulder and I stopped in my tracks. Turning to face her, I couldn’t find the words. It felt right…and beyond wrong…because I’d never wanted this or felt I’d deserved it.

“Why do you always call me Frances?” she asked, looking into my eyes. It was a welcome distraction from what was going on in my head.

“If everyone else calls you Frankie, I want to be different. Because it’s…something else between us. At least for me it is. You see, you’re this outstanding contradiction of a woman, Frances.” I let her name roll off my tongue, savoring each syllable. “You’re funny, sarcastic, bossy, demanding…all the above.” I looked for the right words. “Sensual and smart and sexy as fuck…”

“You mean just plain sexy, right?” She pinched my side while interrupting me.

“No, sexy as fuck.” I piggybacked off her comment. I knew she was kidding, but I couldn’t help myself. “Ever since you blasted into my life, I can’t get you out of my head. I want you, but I don’t want to hurt you. I can’t keep you, even if I don’t think I can let you go. It feels so complicated.”

Despite my trepidation, my lips grazed hers.

“What about your date? It didn’t go well?” she asked, breaking free from my mouth, going back to weeks ago.

Not going to lie—her tone, laced with the smallest hint of jealousy, made me feel ten feet tall. It was my turn to give her a tiny pinch on the side.

“What?” She looked at me, eyebrow cocked.

“My date was a favor to a friend. And it ended up with me coming home early and thinking about you.”

As the sun began to set, I could still make out the blush on her cheeks. I ran a finger over one, and she pulled away playfully. “Don’t tease.”

“I’m not,” I whispered. “I like you, Frances, in case you couldn’t figure that out. I didn’t want to, but you’re irresistible.”

Cradling her face, I kissed her instead of waiting for a reply, her lips supple against mine, her tongue ready to tangle and her body pliant in my arms.

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