Page 115 of Gravity of Love
“Are you real or a mirage?” She swiped at his face.
He advanced, arms open. “I have been known to show up in people’s dreams, but I assure you, I am real. Pinch me if you need confirmation.”
She rushed to him and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him with a desperation that startled even her. She relished the physicality of it: the warmth of him, his signature Tom Ford cologne, the way his body was soft in some places and hard planes in others, solid, familiar, absolutely there. For a moment, she allowed herself to absorb all his strength. He patted her back as he cradled her head, rocking her like a panicked child.
“You got my texts.” Frankie had messaged and called several (about 20) times.
“You sent texts? I saw the Bat Signal and received a note from a carrier pigeon,” he teased. “Quick question before we deep dive into the trauma, did I see Tristan with?—”
“Emmanuelle, yes,” she confirmed as she pulled out of his embrace.
“Do I need to cut a bitch?” Zee was kidding. Maybe. “And just so we’re clear, the bitch I’m referring to isTristan.”
“I know, and no.” Frankie smiled. “He asked if I would mind before she came.”
Zee’s eyes widened in shock, and he pulled out his phone began typing.
“What are you doing?” she asked, already amused at whatever his response was going to be.
“Checking the news. I’m assuming pigs have grown wings and they are flying and hell is below zero.”
“I know, right?” Frankie laughed. “When he asked, I told him whatever he needed was fine. And honestly, they make a cute couple.”
“I hate to admit it, but they do.” Zee’s nose scrunched as he squeezed her arm. “I would ask how you are, but…”
“Would you believe I’m processing through five stages of sarcasm?”
“I would,” he deadpanned. “But only because with this Rihanna vibe you got going, I think I might be in love with you.”
Her smile widened, she was happy he found her sweats and heels combo as amusing as she did. “Don’t tempt me. I might take you up on it.”
He examined her closely, all jokes suspended, gaze so direct it bordered on rude. “You look like you need medical attention. Or at least some sugar.”
Frankie’s eyes drifted back to the vending machine, to the Snickers still dangling by a stubborn corner. “I was trying to get a Snickers to satisfy me, and I can’t even do that!”
“Hold my beer.” Zee handed her his phone, walked over, and hit the side of the machine with the heel of his palm. It didn’t even look like he hit it that hard, but the candy bar came tumbling down. Zee reached down and pulled it out and handed it to her.
“Are you sure we can’t get married?” Frankie asked him as she exchanged the phone for the candy.
“I am, yes.” Zee nodded. “So, talk. Besides the obvious, why do you have a dark cloud hanging over you?”
“I’m a horrible person,” she explained as she leaned back against the wall, using it as leverage as she slid down, plopping on her butt and drawing her knees to her chest, then taking a large bite of her candy bar.
“You’re not,” he said, his voice like gravel wrapped in silk as he joined her on the floor, one arm resting on his knees, the other on hers like a weighted blanket.
She stared straight ahead as she swallowed and then took another bite. “Dr. Sterling is on the table, and all I can think about is how shit my life is going to be if he doesn’t make it. I should be worrying about him and everyone else. Liam, my mom, the twins, Tristan…and I am.ButI’m also thinking about how much it’s going to suck to take care of my mom again. See. Selfish. Center stage.” Frankie held up the Snickers bar and pointed to it. “Me.” She then circled her other finger around it. “The world.” Demonstrating that she thought the world revolved around her.
He reached over and pulled her hand, or the world down. “Stop. You’re not a horrible person, you’re not selfish. You’re human. You’re just the only one honest enough to admit what you’re actually thinking. Honesty is a good trait, in case you missed that day in Girl Scouts.”
“I was kicked out of Girl Scouts,” she reminded him. “For eating all the Thin Mints.”
Zee stared at her.
“Andforputting a snake in Brenda Miller’s sleeping bag because she made fun of Cassie Larson’s weight and made her cry. She got bit and had to be rushed to the emergency room.”
“Which is why I respect you,” he said, grinning.
Frankie was seven at the time, and she still stood by what she’d done. Brenda and her friends Heather and Misty were cruel and relentless bullies. The only thing she regretted was that the other girls hadn’t found their bed buddies. She put spiders in Heather’s sleeping bag. And Misty got red ants, those had been a hard to catch and Frankie had to put them in a plastic baggie at the bottom of her sleeping bag. The plan was when Misty got in her legs would disturb the bag and they would come out and crawl all over her.
