Page 29 of Gravity of Love
That was impressive, Garfield was not a fan of most people, especially men. He was okay with the pastor. Apparently, Yaya had been calling him over quite a lot for ‘repairs’ after Papou passed away, so the cat got used to him.
“You need to call him and thank him.”
No, she didn’t. She needed the earth to swallow her alive. Yaya pushed Frankie’s cell phone towards her. “Call.”
“It was Liam,” she told her bluntly.
“His name is Liam, okay.” She continued rolling out her dough. “Call Liam.”
“No, Yaya, it’s Liam, who I grew up with, Tristan’s older brother.”
“What?!” Yaya’s hand flew in the air again. “How?! When did you…how is this…Where has he been?!”
Frankie winced at the volume of Yaya’s voice, which caused her head to feel like tiny men were using jackhammers on her brain. “Those are all good questions, unfortunately, I don’t have any answers.”
“What do you mean?” the volume of her voice kept increasing. “You don’t have answers?!”
A loud knock sounded, causing her brain to feel like it was being split open. She wasn’t sure if it was just her hangover or if it was really a knock.
“Did you hear that?” she asked Yaya.
“Of course I did. I’m not deaf!” Her hand flew forward, and Frankie felt flour land on her face. “Someone’s at the door.”
“Who?” she asked as she wiped the powder off her nose.
“How do I know?” Her arms flew in the air once again. “Do I have the crystal ball? Can I see through walls? Go answer.”
That meant standing. And walking. If it was anyone trying to sell something, they picked the wrong time. If there was anyonethere to visit Yaya, Frankie was going to use the distraction to climb back in her bed, pull the blanket over her head, and try to forget last night ever happened.
Pressing both hands on the kitchen table, she used that as leverage to push up to her feet, then managed to put one foot in front of the other until she found herself in front of the door. She was fairly certain she was standing perfectly still, but the world was spinning around her. Flashes of the night before kept coming back to her. It was pretty much a blur after her fifth shot, and she’d continued drinking after that.
She remembered talking to Liam at the bar, and then they were on the dance floor at some point, where she accused him of being ageist for some reason. After that she was pretty sure he carried her and she mentioned how good he smelled. Then, the next thing she knew, and this was where it got real fuzzy, his face was right in front of her, and she leaned forward and kissed him. He recoiled in horror, and if memory served, she accused him of being a party pooper. That’s the last memory she had. So yeah, if a sinkhole could just go ahead and open up, she’d be more than happy to slide on down it.
With a deep inhale through her nose and exhale through her mouth, she placed one hand on her stomach and used the other to open the door. When she lifted her head, she expected to see one of Yaya’s friends holding cookies, flowers, or a card for her to take when she visited Mr. Santino. Boy, was she in for a shock when instead she found Liam. His grin was one of smug contentment from being a perfect specimen of a human being, or that could just be her projecting.
He wore a simple navy-blue Henley that molded to his upper body like a second skin, the sleeves pushed up on his forearms, revealing tattoos on both. Her brain must have been in shock because she hadn’t even realized he had tattoos when she saw him in his office, and he had on a white t-shirt.
His hair was damp, not the calculated kind of wetness people got from putting product in their hair, but the kind that resulted after towel drying from a shower. The stubble situation was, frankly, unfair. It was even more grown out than when she’d seen him in the office, and he looked even sexier.
Frankie didn’t even want to think about what she looked like at that very moment. She’d woken up, gargled some mouthwash, and practically crawled into the kitchen, where she’d been mainlining coffee. If she wanted to look as put together as him, her own grooming regimen would mean showering, where she’d have to shave her legs, armpits, and lady parts. Lotion her entire body before drying and either straightening or putting in enough products to tame her wild and wavy, long hair. Next, a five-step skincare routine before she even put a drop of makeup on. Whereas she suspected he’d rinsed off, administered a cursory swipe of deodorant, brushed his teeth,maybeflossed, and yet, he still looked a hundred times hotter than she ever would, which was really annoying.
“Morning.” His half-smile revealed his deep dimples as he balanced a white paper bag in his outstretched hands, like a goodwill offering. She could smell hash browns and bacon. Her mouth flooded with a longing so intense she nearly forgave him for looking so fresh while she felt like she’d been embalmed.
Yaya snuck up behind her, somehow being stealthy in her plastic-soled house slippers, and the next thing she knew, she was wedged between them, ignoring their personal space entirely.
“Liam!” Yaya trilled in a delighted tone reserved for prodigal sons, Greek royals, and the Pope. “You are all grown up. A man now, not skinny little boy with knees like lemons and ears of Dumbo.”
Knees like lemons? Ears of Dumbo?
Yaya patted his cheeks, then pulled him down and kissed him on both. Liam didn’t flinch, he returned the favor, placing a kiss on both of her cheeks.
“You see, I tell you, perfect!” She waved her arm like she was a spokesmodel onThePrice is Rightand he was a brand-new boat. Yaya took the bag from Liam’s hand and shoved it at Frankie. “When a man brings a woman food, even if it is only American food, perfect! Come in, come in.”
As he was ushered in by her grandma, Liam mouthed the word ‘perfect,’ as if to say,See, I told you.
Well, at least I know I wasn’t projecting,Frankie thought as she shut the door.
“Sit, sit, sit!” Yaya instructed them each to take a place on the couch, then she pointed to the white bag and shouted to Frankie, “Eat!”
