Page 28 of Craving Francesca

“What?” Harper asked in confusion. She was quickly distracted by the line of hugs waiting for her. I waited patiently, trying not to look over at where Frankie had sat down on the boyfriend’s lap.

“Safe travels,” Bas said as we finally made our way to the front door.

“You’re stayin’ the night?” I asked quietly, following Harper.

“Yeah.” He gave a firm nod. “I always stay when they’re partyin’.”

“Always?” I asked in surprise.

“Only sometimes when they were livin’ with Cian, I guess. But two women plastered and livin’ alone?” He shook his head. “I can sleep on the fuckin’ couch for a night.”

“Good.”

I helped Harper out to my bike both wondering what the fuck was going on with Frankie and telling myself that it was none of my goddamn business. Yeah, I wasn’t happy her douche of a boyfriend was arguing with her at her own birthday party, but she’d chosen him. The woman was gorgeous and fun, she could’ve had almost any single guy I knew—and she’d chosen him.

I was a firm believer in people finding what they needed. From the outside, maybe you’d wonder why a man would stay with a woman who nagged him all the time, or why a woman would stay with a man that didn’t help her with shit—but you had no idea what went on behind closed doors or in those people’s heads. Whether it was healthy or not, maybe those couples needed that from each other to feel loved or safe or secure.

“I miss hanging out with everyone,” Harper said with a sigh as she rested her chin on my shoulder and her arms around my waist.

“Move home,” I advised.

I pulled out onto the road and tried to push thoughts of Frankie out of my head. It didn’t do anyone any good for me to concern myself with what she was doing. I had enough stress making sure that Harper wasn’t going to let go and fall off the damn bike as she chattered away inside her closed helmet, not realizing that I couldn’t hear a word she said. By the time we reached my parents’ house, I’d pivoted entirely from concern about Frankie to concern about Harper puking inside the helmet.

It wasn’t until weeks later that I’d realize that I should’ve turned around and gone straight back to Frankie’s that night.

Chapter 3

Frankie

Things were prettyfoggy as I stumbled back from the bathroom. The next day was going to be a tough one. I’d had too much to drink. The dumbest part of it all is that I’d known when I hit the point where I should’ve stopped, and I’d just kept going.

It was my birthday party, and I’d been determined to wring every bit of fun out of it which meant trying to forget that Scott was acting like an asshole and Gray was watching me all night from across the room. I wasn’t sure why either of them showed up.

Parties weren’t Scott’s scene. He preferred more controlled environments where he knew everyone and felt comfortable—which was totally fine. If that’s your thing, cool, do it. I’d warned him that he wouldn’t have a good time. I’d given him an out and told him that I wouldn’t have any kind of feelings about him not showing up, but did he listen? No. And then he’d had the audacity to bitch at me forleaving himwhen I tried to hang out with the people who were there to celebrate.

Gray—well, there was no reason for him to come. We were barely friends, and the Harper excuse he’d been handing out was bullshit. Harper was older than me, she could’ve easily driven herself or caught a ride with literally anyone else at the party.

Climbing back into the bed, I let Scott pull me close even though I was still vaguely irritated with him. It wasn’t going to work with him. I’d known it for weeks, but I’d been too nervous to say anything because he was still at my office every day, and I didn’t want things to get weird.

They were going to get weird.

He was so nice, and he hadn’t done anything that I could put my finger on, but something just wasn’t right. We weren’t right together. He wanted to be with me constantly. He showed up without calling, assuming I’d be happy to see him. He asked to carpool to work almost every day even though he knew I wasn’t comfortable making that kind of statement at the office and turned him down over and over. It just sucked because he hadn’t done anything specific that I could point to when I broke up with him. He was fine. It was fine. I just didn’t want fine. I was getting sick of fine. I actually wasn’t even sure how we’d ended up seeing each other for so long.

I fell asleep quickly, but I hadn’t been asleep very long when I woke halfway up to Scott kissing my neck. It felt good, and I leaned further into him, just groggy enough to forget that I was going to break up with him in the morning.

The sex was okay. Alcohol covered everything in enough of a haze it made even the most basic moves a bit dreamy and romantic. Moments after we were done, I fell back asleep.

“You awake, old lady?” Lou called through the door hours later. “Get up, we’re making breakfast!”

“You’re cruel,” I called back, pushing my face against the pillow.

“You’re going to feel like shit if you don’t eat. Get up! Bas is starting the bacon.”

“Jesus,” Scott grumbled behind me. “How is anyone that happy this early?”

Leaning up on an elbow, I reached for my phone. The moment I wrapped my hand around it, my bare arm rubbed against something scratchy, and I looked down in confusion. Beneath my arm was a condom wrapper. I’d opened my mouth to joke about how Scott hadn’t cleaned up his mess when reality slapped me in the face.

It wasn’t open. It hadn’t been used.

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