Page 44 of New Year's Faye

"Is that such a bad thing?" Something in his tone made me look up. His eyes were soft, uncertain in a way I rarely saw.

Before I could respond, Jay called everyone to dinner. We were herded toward the massive dining table, somehow ending up wedged between our mothers, who were already deep in discussion about holiday traditions and whose turn it would be to host Thanksgiving next year.

“Faye,” Frankie called. “Can you help me with plates?”

Grateful for any excuse to escape this weird Brady Bunch-esq cult moment, I hurried after her into the sanctuary of the quiet kitchen.

"So," Frankie said as she handed me plates from a low cabinet. "How are you really doing?"

"I'm…”

…overwhelmed, exhausted, overstimulated, confused, horny…

“…fine."

"Hmm." She watched me arrange the plates with precise movements, lining them up one by one in a tall stack. "You know what I love about my job?"

"Making people uncomfortable with sex talk?"

She laughed, handing me a final plate. "Besides that. I love that I get to help people be honest with themselves."

I set down the plate harder than necessary. "Frankie..."

"You know what I see when I look at you and Sam?"

"Two people managing a complicated situation professionally?"

"Two people who are so afraid of losing what they have, they can't see what they could have what they want and need."

I felt that like a gut punch.

I stilled. "It's not like that."

"No?" She moved to the wine rack, selecting a bottle. "Then why do you keep straightening those plates?"

I looked down to find I'd been obsessively adjusting the table settings. "I just like things to be right."

"Some things don't need to be perfect to be right." She handed me the wine. "They just need to be real."

Before I could respond, Sam's laugh drifted in from outside. The sound wrapped around me like a familiar song, and I found myself smiling automatically

"See?" Frankie's voice was gentle. "Real."

"It's complicated."

"Love usually is." She headed back toward the rowdy group. "Doesn't make it less worth it."

I watched her go, her words settling uncomfortably in my chest. Because the thing was, I'd noticed changes lately.

The way Sam's touch lingered.

The way his songs seemed to hit differently.

The way I found myself turning to him first, with everything.

But noticing feelings and acting on them were very different things.

Weren't they?

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