Page 79 of Whiskey and Regret
“I’m right here. What’s wrong?”
“Oh my god…” Frankie rushed down the hall with round eyes and shaky hands. When she stepped inside my room, she shut the door and locked it. “Where were you?”
“I was being nosey and checking out the other guest rooms. I didn’t even hear you come in looking for me.” I smoothed her wild curls back from her face and looked her over to make sure she wasn’t hurt. My heart raced against my tight chest worrying about her.
“I woke up bleeding,” she said, glancing down to her crotch then back up at me.
“Oh shit. Did you put on a pad like I showed you?”
“Yeah, but I don’t know if I did it right. Can you look?” She swallowed and the muscles in her neck flexed. “Please, please don’t make this weird.”
“Oh god,” I rubbed my forehead and groaned inwardly. I didn’t want to make Frankie self-conscious but looking at how another girl positioned her pad was not high on my list of fun things to do on the weekend.
Was this the type of shit that mothers had to go through?
How was I not supposed to act grossed out?
I didn’t want Frankie’s first period experience to be horrible or embarrassing because it was something she’d carry through life. So I sucked in a sharp breath and herded her to the bathroom.
She pulled down her leggings and held up her shirt so I could examine her. I smoothed a quick hand over her butt to feel for any bunching then I looked over the rest of her. Thank god everything felt and looked okay. I nodded and motioned for her to pull her pants up.
“You did good, Frank. Nothing looks out of place.” She buckled with relief. “I’m proud of you,” I said.
“Thank you. I was a little freaked out when I woke up.” She swiped at sparse tears that rolled down her cheeks. “I remembered what you told me about how to put a pad on.”
“See? And you got it first time out.” We went back into my room and sat on the bed. I spent the next hour putting off harp practice to talk to Frankie about everything she’d feel while she was on her period and what not to freak out over. We looked at things online and watched videos too.
When she was calm, we went downstairs and she began making bagels from a recipe she found on Pinterest. She’d even used the money on her debit card to get all the ingredients on her own. She ordered the groceries and had them delivered. I was impressed, to say the least.
I went to the formal dining room and lit candles around Sunshine so I could get to work. I knew I wouldn’t meet my goals for the day but I refused to consider it a waste.
I helped Frankie feel assured and comfortable on one of the most memorable days of her life. She sought me out and confided in me. I was honored once I got over being freaked out.
I sat on my stool and looked at the music for Damon Philips’s wedding. After Evander drafted a contract for me, I got the rest of the details squared away with Nicole and Damon and got half the money upfront. Most of my days leading up to the wedding were spent practicing so everything would be perfect.
I was an hour into plucking strings when Frankie emerged with a plate of warm bagels that smelled heavenly. I couldn’t smell, hear, or see anything besides Sunshine when I was in the zone. It wasn’t until I moved my hands away from her that all my senses rushed in again.
Frankie’s brown eyes were bright like stars against the night sky. “They came out so good!” She beamed, shoving the plate at me. I looked them over then smiled.
“They actually did. Wow, Frank. You’re carving out a niche for yourself.” My eyes drifted to the blue-purple speckled bagels on the right side of the plate. “Wait…Frankie, are those blueberry?”
“Yeah. I made some of them blueberry bagels.”
“I need all of those. You can leave them for me. Thanks.”
“Oh my god, no,” she laughed. “I want Daddy to taste one and I’ll pack some up for Mom.”
When she started for the kitchen again, I got up and followed her because well…bagels. She sat the plate of fresh, warm bagels on the island and I grabbed a blueberry one. They smelled heavenly and felt even better. My fingers pressed into the warm yeasty bread and I wondered what pastry chef was hiding inside Frankie.
“Here…” She handed me a knife to slice the bagel open and a dish with butter. When I sank my teeth into the bagel an involuntary happy groan left me. It was probably the best thing I’d ever tasted. I grabbed another small pat of butter and smeared it on, watching it turn to golden liquid as it soaked into the nooks and crannies.
Oh my god.
“Francesca,” I blurted with shut eyes. “I never call you by your full name but when you make shit like this, I can’t call you Frankie.”
“Oh my god, is it that good? Really, Xari?”
“Girl…yes. I’ll pay you to make me these for the week.” I looked at her and she blinked in disbelief.
