Page 43 of Winning You
“Yeah. Hey, you need a shopper?”
“Yes, but I need to do this quick as hell. I have a…” It wasn’t a date, and it felt wrong to say that it was. “Plans. I have a dinner plans thing. Whatever. Anyway, I’m late.”
“I can help,” she said. “Tell me where to go, and we’ll get you in and out.”
Lucas let out a breath of relief and then said, “What would impress you if someone was trying to win your heart through your stomach?”
She burst into laughter, then pushed the cart handle against his arm so he could take it. “Does he like fish?”
“I can make him like fish,” Lucas said.
“Perfect. We just got in a new shipment. Follow me.”
Kristen wasn’t wrong. They had cuts of sea bass that felt perfectly thick and firm—and while it would take a while to cook, once he tasted it, he was pretty sure Frankie would thank him for the wait instead of feeling annoyed by it. He bought runner beans to go with, ingredients for fresh pesto, some baby potatoes, and a couple of very fat carrots that would slice and roast up perfectly.
Kristen got him through check out, and while she was bagging up his things, Lucas navigated to his app and ordered the car, which was, thank god, only two minutes away.
The guy hadn’t lied to him, and it was only six thirty by the time he was shoving his key into the lock and turning the handle. He stood in the hallway for a quick second, listening for Frankie moving around or speaking, but it was silent.
Not even Elodie was making her usual racket. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but he went inside to start his prep before going to get Frankie.
While the oven was heating, Lucas forced himself through the world’s quickest shower, then slapped on some deodorant and a little of the scented lotion Gage had gifted him for his last birthday. It was a subtle, sort of woodsy lavender scent that he didn’t mind that much.
Normally he avoided colognes like the plague, but he wanted Frankie to enjoy him. Even if it wasn’t the way he wanted.
His nerves started to ramp up as he finished getting dressed, then checked the oven before throwing all the herbs, garlic, cheese, and oil into his food processor for the pesto. It took him a moment to get the flavor right, but when it was done, he knew he couldn’t wait any longer.
He had a momentary panic attack that maybe Frankie was going to eat without him since he was taking so fucking long, but when he trailed his fingers over the first door, then the second, then the third, he felt an odd sense of calm.
Whatever was going to happen would happen. All he could control was himself.
Wise words from a childhood therapist.
He curled his fingers into a fist, then knocked gently and waited with his breath trapped in his throat. Seconds ticked by. Nearly a minute. God, he wasn’t home, was he? He’d gotten tired of waiting, so he took his family out for pizza or burgers. Or he was looking through the peephole and trying to be quiet so Lucas couldn’t hear him.
Shit, maybe he was?—
“Oh my god, I thought I missed you.”
Lucas spun toward the sound of Frankie’s cinnamon spice voice. His footsteps were coming down the hall at a rapid pace. “Were you at my door?”
“No, I just—” He heaved a breath. “There was a crisis at work, and I just managed to get out of there. Have you been waiting long?”
“No.” Lucas frowned. “Are your brother and Elodie gone?”
“Yeah. Fenton and his girlfriend picked them up for this family pizza party night at her preschool.”
Lucas’s brows lifted. “Oh. Oh. Wait…should you…do you…want to go to that?”
“Fuck no,” Frankie blurted, and then Lucas heard the noise of skin slapping skin, and Frankie’s laugh was muffled, probably by his hand. “Sorry, that probably makes me the world’s worst dad, but a night in a room full of excited toddlers and pizza does not sound ideal.”
Lucas couldn’t help a grin. “Okay. So you have time to eat with me, then?”
“I have all night. Fallon’s doing a sleepover at Fenton’s place with them. It’s kind of a routine Fen developed when Fallon was younger. Whenever he experienced a really big upset, he’d build a big blanket fort with a bunch of lights and pillows and all of his favorite movies. Anyway, you don’t care about that, and I’m rambling.”
Lucas softened. Frankie’s family sounded a lot like the family his dad had brought them into when they’d moved there. Just a bit smaller, which Lucas wouldn’t have minded some days. “I think that sounds amazing. Now, I have food going. Do you need a little while to unwind?”
“Maybe just a shower. There was an incident,” Frankie said, his voice going darker. “I don’t really want to talk about it, but if you get closer to me, you’ll smell it.”
