Chapter 69

Her eyes still on Christian’s hand, Violetta clears her throat.

Slowly, Christian’s fingers drop to the counter top. I don’t really dare to breathe because…well, because while we weren’t doing anything precisely bad…

It wasn’t good, was it?

If I caught my boyfriend doing that, we’d be having one hell of a fight later.

“Are you coming to bed, Christian?” Violetta asks, her voice tight.

Christian sighs and stands, letting his eyes trail over me as he gets to his feet and moves towards her. “Yes, Vi,” he says quietly. “I’ll come right now.”

She doesn’t say anything, instead just looking over at me, her expression cold. I don’t say anything either, letting my shoulders slump as I meet her gaze, apology on my face. Because, I mean, I didn’t do anything – he was the one who reached for me.

But I didn’t do anything to stop him, did I?

Nope. And in fact, I would have let him do more. Wanted him to, in fact.

Christian doesn’t look back at be as he moves past Violetta into the bedroom. And Violetta, territorial, keeps looking my way as she backs into the room and closes the door behind them. I just look down at my hands, sighing, wondering what the future holds for me next.

Because it’s certainly not Christian.

And it’s not Edward.

So…

“Coming to bed, Bambs?” Frankie’s words are garbled by the toothbrush in his mouth, talking as he brushes his teeth.

I laugh, unable to help it, as he crosses the room and moves to the kitchen sink to spit out his toothpaste and rinse his brush. “Must you clean your teeth in the public areas of the house, Frankie?”

“What?” he says, grinning at me like I’m crazy for thinking there’s anything wrong with it as he washes the last bits of toothpaste off his brush. “I’m cleaning my teeth – if it’s getting things cleaner it can’t be getting dirty.”

“So what, I’m allowed to clean the lasagna dish in your shower now?” I ask, tossing out my hand.

“Bambi,” Frankie says, turning to grin at me, “you can do whatever you want with the lasagna dish. Whatever makes your lil Bambi heart happy.”

I grin at him, pleased because I know he means it, and he smiles back. “Come on, let’s go watch a movie in your room,” he says, lifting his chin towards it. “Nico is being all annoying with his skin care routine.”

I start to stand up, agreeing to the plan, but I nearly gag when I see Frankie pick up Christian’s discarded glass of whiskey and take a hefty sip. “Frankie!” I shriek, laughing.

“What!?” he sputters, swallowing in a hurry as I start to smack at him, grabbing for the glass.

“You can’t drink whiskey after you brushed your teeth! That’s so gross! That’s sacrilege!”

“No, Iris,” he says, laughing and backing away from me, holding the crystal tumbler high out of my reach. “Letting 25-year-old scotch go to waste is sacrilege.”

“Ugh, you’re so gross,” I moan, covering my face with my hands, but I’m laughing anyway as I follow him to my bedroom for movie night.

I wake up the next morning curled warm in my blankets. I yawn, pressing my eyes shut, wanting just a few more minutes of sleep but…

But…what the hell is that noise?

Slowly I turn over and my mouth pops open when I see Frankie sprawled out next to me on the bed, belly down, completely asleep. It takes me a moment to get over my shock, but then, when I do, I start to grin.

Because Frankie – he is not supposed to be here, is he? And if Christian finds out, he’s going to flip.

And while I actually don’t really care that he slept here and have no intention of ratting him out…well, I have to torture him a little bit, don’t I?

So I scootch very, very close to Frankie on the bed, so close faces are just inches apart on the pillow, and then I reach out and tap him just on the edge of the nose.

Frankie, adorably, just wrinkles his nose and I have to suppress a laugh because my friend, the trained killer, he’s like a little bunny rabbit right now. When he goes still I do it again. This time he raises his hand and brushes at his nose. I laugh, not louder than a whisper, and tap him again.

This time his eyes flutter open.

“Good morning, Frankieee,” I say softly, my voice sing-song. “Someone’s in the wrong bedddd.”

He frowns, taking a second to wake up, and then to my surprise he reaches for me, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me close to his chest. I gasp and go still, pressed warm to his chest.

“Be quiet,” he murmurs, sleepy as he slides his other hand beneath me, tucking his face into the space between my neck and my shoulder as he wraps me up in his arms. “If you talk too much, I’ll stop being able to pretend this is a dream.”

I start to grin despite myself and give into it, letting myself rest against Frankie, raising my arm so I can lightly stroke the back of his hair, enjoying the way the short ends of it feel against my palm. “So, it’s okay to wake up in my bed if it’s a dream?” I whisper.

“Plausible deniability,” he murmurs, shaking his head a little as he sighs. And then…no, did I imagine that?

I could have sworn that was the press of his lips to my shoulder but…

But there’s no way.

Frankie pulls back a little, still holding me but looking into my face now. “You’re pretty in the morning,” he murmurs, making my own smile widen.

“So are you,” I reply, meaning it. Frankie – sometimes I feel like he falls to the wayside, standing as he does in Christian’s shadow. But he’s really very good looking, isn’t he? With his pretty brown eyes and his dimpled smile. I let my hand drift down his neck and then down over his back, feeling the muscles there. A little shiver runs through him.

“You’re going to get me in trouble, Bambs…” he murmurs, looking down and away from me for a moment, like he can’t look me in the face anymore.

And suddenly, quite suddenly…I kind of want to get him in trouble. Subtly I move myself closer, but Frankie sighs, moving his hand to my hip and raising his eyes to mine.

“Stop,” he murmurs. Not cruel, not mad. More like…a plea.

I cock my head, wondering.

“Let me pretend I’m sleeping, Bambs,” he murmurs, raising a hand to my face and cupping my cheek in his palm. “Just…let it be a dream. Okay?”

I go still for a moment, and then let my body rest back against the pillows as I realize that he was right. That I’m being a damn idiot, and a bad friend. “Okay, Frank,” I murmur, drifting a hand over his hair once before I close my eyes and let my body go limp.

Frankie stays still for a long time, I think – like me – letting his body rest, pretending that we’re asleep. Pretending that what just passed between us – what has been passing between us, if I’m being honest – isn’t there.

Because it can’t be, can it?

We have rules in this world. And neither of us are in charge. And even if we were…

Well, is that what I would want?

I’m still dwelling on it, desperately confused, when I feel a kiss pressed to my cheek and then Frankie’s body moves. I don’t open my eyes as I hear his footsteps walk to the door. Or when the door opens, and then softly closes behind him when he goes.

Instead I just…lay there in the half-dark of the morning light.

Wondering, honestly, if it was a dream.