Page 81 of One Last Verse

“Do you have a movie in mind that you want to see?” he asked.

“I’m going to consult Google and get back to you on that sometime in the morning.”

“It’s a date then, baby.”

I hadn’t been this excited about a movie since the third grade when our mother took us to the Chinese Theater to see Harry Potter. That night, our father had come along and bought us a super-size popcorn pack and a bag of candy. Ashton and I had spent the first half of the movie fighting over the food and missed everything, but those three hours were still the best three hours of my entire childhood. For once, we weren’t a crippled version of a family. We were simply a family, and it’d felt incredibly nice, although it hadn’t lasted long enough for me to get used to it. Later, at home, our father had gotten so drunk, he’d slept on the couch because he couldn’t make it to the bedroom.

When I was a child, life enjoyed teasing me with the things I knew I could never have, but I made sure I did better as an adult. To have all those things I’d missed out on. To do all those things my father had never cared to do with me.

Freshly washed and polished, Frank’s Ferrari was sitting outside when I pulled into his driveway. Roman hung back on the terrace. Billy and Hannah were in the kitchen, cooking. Or rather, Hannah was cooking and Billy was monitoring. His diabetes had been acting up lately and he was on a strict diet. I stopped for a second to say hello and made my way to the west wing.

I found Frank in the bedroom. All dressed up, sling in place, he was putting the finishing touches to his hair. Music boomed in the background.

“You’re taking this very seriously.” Shoulder against the doorframe, I took him in. These past few days that we hadn’t seen each other had done wonders. He’d shaved. Light pink colored his cheeks and his eyes shone bright, just like the night we met. I could tell he hadn’t touched the bottle. At least, not since our rendezvous outside my place. Everything about his outfit, black shirt that clung to his chest seductively, dark jeans that accentuated his long legs, boots that had probably seen better days, screamed hot, available, and a little dirty.

Frank Wallace was playing for keeps tonight.

“Of course, two hours of Blake Lively.” He smirked and circled around. “How do I look?”

“You look like a man who’s competent enough to take care of himself in the movie theater if things get too hot on screen,” I retorted with a grin.

“Are you jealous of Blake Lively?” Smug smile still on his lips, Frank walked toward me. My body drew tight. Then suddenly, he turned me and pressed my back against the doorframe.

My knees buckled. “You really need to stop fantasizing about other women.” I jutted my chin and ogled the fine lines in his face.

“There’s only one woman I’m fantasizing about.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek. There was an explosion between my legs. Goosebumps ran across my body and my skin burned from the soft touch of his lips. I missed the sober intimacy. I missed the sex and I missed the cuddles and talks after. I missed the showers together. I missed how our crazy schedules didn’t line up. I miss the oldgym and healthy lifestyle obsessedFrank. I missed the oldnot a care in the world over-caffeinatedme. I missed us.

“I really am proud of you,” I said, resting my hand on his chest. His heartbeat was fast and strong and I liked the feel of its rhythm against my palm. “I know this wasn’t an easy decision for you.”

He captured my chin and tilted my head up to meet his gaze. “Let’s pretend everything is fine, doll. Just for tonight.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

The theater Frank picked was in the heart of West Hollywood. His hand lay on my thigh as I forged my way through the vehicular hell on La Brea. Our windows were up and the new Black Rain Coming album blared from the speakers. Wrapped in the ferocious pulse of the music, we spoke very little. Words weren’t needed. Not right now, anyway.

All this—the alluring neon signs, the crowded sidewalks, the shouting street vendors—reminded me of how much I loved this city. Its electric vibe surged through my veins like the wild drumbeat of an old rock ’n’ roll anthem. Warm and familiar, the feeling spread through my chest, taking over the fierce rumble of the engine and the muffled street noise.

Dressed in all dark colors, Frank looked mysterious. Just like the night we met. A smirk danced across his lips when we reached the front of the theater. There was a small crowd near the entrance.

“We can go through the back if you want.” He took his hand off my thigh and motioned at the next turn.

“You want us to sneak in.” Turning on my blinker, I glanced at the rearview mirror and prepared to change lanes.

“I made a few calls, but we don’t have to.” He shot me a mischievous smile, and his fingers returned to my skirt. “We’re public, remember?”

“So you’re totally okay with walking into a theater with me through the front door?”

“Doll, the entire planet knows we’re together.” He shrugged. “If they want to talk about us behind our backs, we might as well give them something to talk about.”

“Are you sure, Frank?”

“Yes. I’m sure. I want us to be a normal couple for one night.” His palm slid higher and my blood rushed to my cheeks.

“Do you want me to drive into a pole?” I steered the car into the next lane and hit the brake.

“No.” Frank laughed softly and put the fabric on my thigh back in place. “I just can’t stop touching you. You’re addictive, Cassy Evans. And you look fabulous.”

The valet attendant rushed over to meet us. My stomach lurched when the door swung open. For a moment, I expected a barrage of paparazzi to appear from their hiding places, but nothing happened. No one except the security guard was around to escort us into the theater.

---