Page 29 of Crazy In Love
FOX
Is it cruel to taunt Christian Watkins using the tools I gathered throughout nine-ish years of co-parenting Franklin Page? Or am I doing him a favor, seeing as how no one else seems to want to help the dude grow out of his tight-fitting, overly controlled life where Tommy protects and Alana mothers?
Jesus. It’s not like eating without his favorite fork will kill the guy.
“I’ve just turned the TV on and settled Franky on the couch.” I meander into Tommy and Alana’s kitchen and pause against the doorframe, folding my arms and dialing in on the show an aesthetically pleasing man puts on, not only cooking my dinner, but cleaning the dishes, too.
He bends over the sink, running his hands through hot, soapy water, and washes each piece one by one, despite the perfectly good dishwasher situated just five feet to his left.
Hell, maybe he needed a little more time with his beloved fork.
“Franky’s doing Murdles and watching a show.”
“Did he have a shower and change into pyjamas?” He peeks over his shoulder, though he doesn’t turn all the way around, and pins me with a pair of too-intense eyes. He feels too much, I think. He gets caught up in anger too quickly, and sadness way too easily. Love—as with Alana and Franky—too completely, and worst of all, worries about thewhat ifstoo freely. “He’s normally in bed by now. We ran a little late outside.”
“Nine o’clock is his regular bedtime. It’s not even ten yet. It’s the weekend, and this is a special occasion, so I doubt it matters.”
“It matters to someone who relies on routine and predictability.”
“You mean you?” I drop my arms and wander around to lean against the counter, and since I’m a nice person—I keep saying so—I grab a towel and select a plate to dry. “Believe it or not, but Franky is able to deviate from routine sometimes. It might be uncomfortable, but he can do it.”
“Why would youwantto make him uncomfortable? You say you love the kid. If that were true, you should want him to be happy.”
“It’s about short-term versus long-term goals. Being comfortable is fun and all, but growth is achieved when we’re out of that comfort zone. Either he steps out voluntarily, or I’ll shove him out. Regardless, the long-term benefits far outweigh the short-term crankiness.”
I’m talking about you, too, jackass.
“You never think to expand your horizons and grow?”
“My entire childhood was uncomfortable.” He focuses intently on his task, scrubbing a plate, though the damn thing is already clean. “I no longer wish to feeluncomfortable, like my blood is on fire or my skin is too tight. I’ve done my time. I’m an adult now and in charge of my own life, so I figure comfortable is exactly where I’ll park my ass for the next eighty years.”
“Shame.” I click my tongue and run the soft side of the towel over the back of my plate. “My fondest adventures were had while I was uncomfortable as hell.”
Unimpressed, he purses his lips. “Which ones?”
“Like, meeting a scared girl with a baby in her belly who needed a friend. I could have easily sent her packing, since that’s a hell of a mess I didn’t need to get involved in, and God knows, I was already kinda overloaded with my own bullshit. Still, I chose to jump in and create a family with that girl and her baby boy. Now look at me…” I flash a mischievous smirk, “rewarded with this conversation.”
He rolls his eyes.
“I clawed my way into a college I couldn’t afford, with a brain I wasn’t sure could keep up, and begged for every scrap of financial aid I could find. Hell, Iinventedscholarships, pitching myself to businesses until they gave me money.Comfortablewould have been to become just like my mother. Instead, I busted my ass studying until I wanted to scream and raised a baby with my best friend, so when I walked that stage, I was rewarded with both of them clapping for me. After graduation, I took a leap of faith and nagged a friend for a job, which was prettyuncomfortablefor both of us, but I was relentless in my desire for a better life, and I’d already had practice making shit up. They didn’t need a new team member in marketing, but morale atGable, Gains, and Hemingway was pretty low, and being on the fifty-first floor was a recipe for disaster. So I invented a whole new job and vowed to make it work.”
“Chief happiness officer,” he drawls. “Just because you keep saying it doesn’t make it real.”
“Dude, you wrestle with sweaty men for a living! If you insist on throwing stones, I suggest you don’t be the guy performing soft-core porn.”
“You— He—” His face burns a dangerous, angry red. “It’s not soft-core porn!”
“I’m not judging your life choices,” I tease. “I just wish you’d be more open about who you really are. True happiness begins with self-acceptance.”
“My gym is a world-class training center!” He’s horrified. Indignant. Sooooo offended. “We produce world champions, Fox! And what the hell kind of name is that, anyway? Made up job, made up name.”
He’s so ridiculously easy to goad.
I finish with my plate and move on to the next. “My name was picked by people who may or may not have been strung out on crack at the time. Fortunately, I don’t hate it enough to change it. And my job—while I admit to pulling it out of my ass and hoping for the best—comes with data that proves my efforts matter. Staff morale is up, and GGH is not only a wildly successful company with an annual turnover of two hundred million smackeroos, but it’s viciously sought after by applicants searching for employment. They line up out the door and around the block… on a Tuesday, when we don’t even have a position available.”
“It’s a made-up job!”
“Kind of like professional fighting, I suppose.” Smiling, I study his eyes. “If we were in Rome and the Colosseum was operational, then maybe you’d have a reason to train. Or if you were a stuntman in Hollywood, I suppose that would validate what you do. But there are no kingdoms to fight for anymore. You won’t conquer a country in the octagon. You won’t win a princess’s hand in marriage.”
