by Emma Lea
“Speaking of Frankie,” Meredith said, as if reading my mind. “Where is she? Shouldn't she be here when another woman is trying to steal her fiancé?”
“I—” my voice cracked, and I tried to clear it, coughing awkwardly. “I don’t know,” I finally managed.
“She left,” Danika said, speaking for the first time and glaring at me.
“Left? For the village?” Meredith asked.
Leading the witness, your honor, I thought to myself as Danika shook her head. Meredith already knew exactly where Frankie was and with a sinking feeling, I did too.
“She’s on the helicopter and headed for Thessalonica,” Danika supplied helpfully. “I believe she booked a flight home.”
Clarissa smiled triumphantly beside me as the edges of my vision blurred. Frankie had left. She’d actually left the island, and she had no plans to come back. Frankie had left me.
“Did she—” I cleared my throat again. “Did she say anything before she left?”
“No, but she left this,” Danika said, holding up an envelope with my name scribbled on it in Frankie’s writing.
I may have snatched it from Danika’s hand, but it didn’t contain a letter of explanation like I’d hoped. I tipped the contents out onto my hand. It was the engagement ring. The stupid engagement ring that had brought me nothing but heartache.
“I believe that’s mine,” Clarissa said, reaching for it.
“No,” I said, closing my fist around the ring and snatching my hand out of her reach.
I struggled to keep my breathing even as my heart collapsed in on itself. Frankie was gone. For good. I’d ruined everything, just like I always did. Just being born had ruined everything for my parents. I’d never been the son they wanted, and I’d forever been a thorn in their sides. I’d tried my hardest to please them and then given up and tried to make myself as small as possible so I at least wouldn’t get in their way. I’d forgone every dream of my own so as not to interfere with theirs until this opportunity came along. For the first time in my life I’d reached out for something I wanted and what happened? I’d ruined it, just like they knew I would. In all my life there had only been one light, one thing that was good and perfect; my friendship with Frankie. When everything else was nothing but oatmeal and beige, Frankie had been rainbows and sprinkles. And now the only good thing in my life was ruined too. I’d made a mess of everything.
Misery wrapped around me like a cocoon and I felt myself concertinaing; folding up into myself. All I could see in front of me was a lifetime of nothing but off-white and beige. There was no color, no shadows. I couldn’t even imagine my life in black and white. Nope, my life would be nothing but monochrome cream and beige and vanilla.
Chapter 22
Francesca
The flight home was interminable. It was in the range of thirty-three to thirty-six hours long with several stopovers along the way. It was a cheap, last-minute flight—the first I could get, and I didn’t care how long it took, just as long as it got me away from Kalopsia and away from Lucas and Clarissa and their joyous reunion.
But man, it was a drag.
They crammed me into a tiny seat, nothing like the lush private plane we’d flown over in, and stuffed me into the economy section of the plane with half the population of Greece—or that’s what it felt like. They weren’t all Greek, of course, but the sheer number of people they fit onto the plane was mind-boggling. Or maybe I just hadn’t traveled enough.
That’s probably what I should do. Travel. Once my dissertation was done and I had my degree in my hot little hand, then I should just take off and travel the world. People watching in the far-flung corners of the earth sounded like the best thing in the world right now. Being as far away from Boston and all the memories and then equally as far away from Kalopsia was the goal, so…maybe Australia, or New Zealand?
No one was waiting for me at the airport. I hadn’t told Mom or Dad I was coming home. I wanted to sneak home and hide away in my bedroom and lick my wounds. By now the entire palace would know Lucas and I had only been pretending and they would all hate me. They would welcome Clarissa with open arms. She was perfect for the role of markissia and would fit in with Elena and Sophia like she was born to the role. In a few days people would be asking, ‘Frankie who?’
I dragged my suitcase through the door of the brownstone and up the stairs to my room. I was exhausted—jet lag—and all I could think about was sleeping for the next one hundred years.
My eyes were red and sore, which was of course because of the jet lag and the excruciatingly long hours spent flying and had nothing to do with the way I’d sobbed my heart out the entire way home.
It was allergies. The stuffy air in the plane and the weird carpet cleaning products they used in the airport that made my eyes water. And all the different perfumes on the plane and the BO…yeah, best not to mention the BO because it might just make me cry all over again. No, not cry, I wasn’t crying. I didn’t cry. One glistening tear on my cheek, maybe when I was watching a sad movie, but I didn’t cry.
And that pain in my chest? I must have strained a muscle when I was lugging my luggage around. Or maybe it was the food on the plane. It was a well-known fact that food on planes caused indigestion and this was definitely indigestion. It most definitely was not my heart breaking into a hundred million tiny pieces.
I eyed my bed but opted for a shower first. I’d been traveling for the better part of two days and I was probably the primary contributor to the BO that was stinging my eyes and making them water.
I climbed into the shower, completely disregarding the memories of the rain shower head and glass shower wall that looked out over the Aegean Sea from the shower in my suite in the palace. Clarissa was probably making herself at home in that suite now.
And there went my eyes again and that sharp pain in my chest. I should probably take something for that.
I turned the heat up and let the water pound on my neck and shoulders and breathed the steam in. I wasn’t crying, that was just the water from the shower running down my face and it was salty because of my sweaty, gross skin and not having showered for two days.
When I was well and truly waterlogged and my skin was starting to prune, I climbed out of the shower, dried off, and pulled on my softest, cuddliest sweats and an old t-shirt. Okay, it might have been Lucas’ old t-shirt I’d borrowed once and never returned, but I chose it because it was comfortable and not because I imagined I could still smell his scent on it.
I crawled beneath the covers of my bed, not bothering to unpack my bags. They would be waiting for me when I woke up…if I woke up within the next century. Maybe I would sleep for so long that I’d become some weird urban legend and tourist attraction. There would be blog posts about me telling the story of how I fell asleep and never woke up. Some people would debate whether I was real or just an elaborate hoax. There would be documentaries made about me and everyone would speculate about what had caused me to fall into such a deep sleep.
That was the plan, anyway. Not realistic, but a girl could wish. If I never woke up, I would never have to deal with the fallout of falling in love with my best friend. If I never woke up, I wouldn’t ever have to face a life without Lucas in it. If I never woke up I could forever live in the dreamland where Lucas and I lived happily ever after.
I turned the air-conditioning up—or down, whichever one meant colder—and pulled the covers over my head, burrowing down into the darkness. I was surrounded with the comforting and familiar scents of home with nothing to remind me of the sparkling cerulean sea and the smiling face of the most beautiful man I’d ever had the privilege to know. I was happy for him. I was…or I would be as soon as this indigestion got better and my eyes stopped weeping.
“Frankie?”
I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself back to sleep. I was supposed to sleep for a hundred years and I was pretty sure it had only been a couple of hours since I surrendered to the dark nothingness of sleep.
“Frankie, honey?”
I groaned again as Mom sat on the edge of my bed and tugged the covers down, exposing my head.
“What are you doing here, Frankie?” Mom asked.
“Sleeping,” I mumbled.
I heard her huff and imagined her rolling her eyes. “Why are you here?” she asked.
“Because I needed to sleep,” I replied, stubbornly refusing to open my eyes and acknowledge that I was no longer sleeping.
“Why did you leave Kalopsia?” Mom asked, her tone still soft but with an undercurrent of demand I knew would only get stronger the longer I tried to avoid answering her questions.
I huffed and opened my eyes, which was harder than it should have been. They were crusted over with gunk from all the…allergies.
“It was time to come home,” I said.
“No, you still had a week or more before you were due home,” Mom countered, narrowing her eyes as she examined my face.
I sighed and pushed up onto my elbows. “No, it really was time to come home,” I said. “Three’s a crowd and all that.”
“What?”
I groaned and collapsed back on the pillows. “Clarissa turned up.”
“And Lucas sent you home?”
“No,” I whispered.
“You ran away?”
“I wouldn’t exactly say I ran away,” I replied slowly.
“No? So you sat down and had an adult conversation with Lucas and Clarissa before you left?”
“Um…not exactly…”
“Frankie,” Mom groaned. “You ran away. You didn’t even fight for him, did you?”
“Fight for him? We’re just friends, Mom. The engagement wasn’t real.”
“Wasn’t it?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. “You’re telling me you didn’t fall in love with him and wish it was real?”
“I don’t want to talk about this,” I said, kicking the covers off and trying to get out of bed.
Mom sighed. “Okay. Okay, I get it. You’re hurt and sad and it’s still too painful to talk about, but Frankie, don’t lie to yourself.” She nailed me with a direct stare and I swallowed. “Do not lie to yourself about how you are feeling. You’re allowed to be sad and you’re allowed to be angry. You need to give yourself permission to feel those things, okay? And when you’re ready to talk, I’m here for you.”
I threw myself into my mother’s arms and buried my face in her neck.
“Thanks,” I mumbled.
She squeezed me tight and then let me go, wiping tears from my cheeks and smiling at me sadly. “Are you hungry? Dad bought home Thai.”
My stomach rumbled and although I wanted to hide away in my room, having dinner with my mom and dad and doing something normal seemed like an excellent idea.
“Will there be enough for me?” I asked as Mom stood and I shuffled out of bed.
“You know what your father is like, he always orders too much.”
I smiled, and it didn’t hurt. It was nice to smile about something simple like my dad having eyes bigger than his belly. It felt good to be back to normal and not have to pretend to be someone I wasn’t. I could go downstairs to dinner wearing my sweats and old t-shirt and I didn’t have to worry about embarrassing anyone. I didn’t even have to brush my hair or do my makeup. I could just be me. Plain old me. No airs and graces. No fancy designer clothes or uncomfortable shoes or bobby pins sticking into my scalp.
Mom took my hand, and we went downstairs together and I could finally take my first full breath since I’d stepped out onto the terrace and saw Lucas and Clarissa with their arms wrapped around each other. I hadn’t expected Lucas to end up with me—as much as I may have daydreamed about it—but seeing him with Clarissa was my worst nightmare. Why couldn’t he have chosen Sophia, or even Elena, for that matter? Why did it have to be Clarissa? My nemesis. Okay, not my actual nemesis, she just felt like my nemesis.
“So did you take lots of photos?” Mom asked.
“Oh Mom, Kalopsia is so beautiful and the water! Seriously, I’ve never seen water that color before in my life. Let me just grab my phone.”
I ran back upstairs and grabbed my phone. I’d turned it off on my flight from the island and hadn’t turned it back on since. I let it boot up as I skipped back down the stairs and then came to a complete stop when I saw all the notifications populating the screen.
Lucas.
Lucas had been trying to call me for the last two days and not just call me. There were hundreds of text messages—and not just from Lucas. Meredith—Meredith—had texted me, so had Sophia and even Elena. There were a couple from Dorian as well and I felt…sad. All these friends I’d made, and I’d just left without saying goodbye to any of them. Yeah, I’d been hurt, but I should have at least explained things to Meredith and Jamie. Me running away was an admission of guilt. I should have at least had the guts to tell them the truth.
“Honey?” Mom called from the dining room. “Are you coming?”
I sighed and swiped away from all the messages and missed calls. I would deal with them all tomorrow. Right now I would have dinner with my family and pretend I hadn’t just blown up my entire life because my heart was broken.
“Coming,” I said as I opened my photo app and headed for the dining room.
Lucas
I lifted the glass to my lips and sipped. Not raïda. There were too many memories tied up in the spirit. Not whiskey either. Whiskey had started this thing. I’d been drinking whiskey when I proposed to Frankie, so yeah, I was staying away from whiskey too.
I was drinking gin.
I couldn’t say I’d ever been a fan of the clear, juniper infused alcohol, but I needed something that didn’t remind me of Frankie and gin was it. I’d briefly considered tequila, but then I was reminded of the time Frankie had gotten completely wasted in college on tequila shots. So no tequila either.
Wine wasn’t strong enough and besides, there was that time I had to pick Frankie up from the country club where she’d been having drinks with my mother and she’d been drinking wine, so…no wine for me.
“Are you sure?” Dorian asked, taking a seat beside me at the bar.
We weren’t in a ‘bar.’ We were in the palace in the room that had a bar and a seemingly unlimited supply of alcohol. I had dismissed the servers and helped myself to a bottle of gin and now I was working my way into blackout drunk so I could forget just how messed up my life was.
“What?” I asked, turning tired eyes on him.
“You said ‘no whine’ but I distinctly heard whining. Lots of it, in fact.”
“Shut up,” I mumbled, turning back to my drink.
He sighed. “What are you doing here, Lucas?” he asked.
I held up my glass and shook the ice cubes. “Drinking,” I replied.
“As much as I enjoy drinking, it will not get Francesca back.”
I snorted. “Francesca is not coming back. Ever. She hates me.”
“She doesn’t hate you.”
“I think I would know when a woman hates me,” I countered.
“You wouldn’t know when a woman has gum on her shoe let alone how one feels about you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re an idiot.”
“Like I need you to tell me that,” I retorted, tipping the glass up and swallowing the remains of my drink.
I reached for the bottle and poured another shot.
“Have you at least tried calling her?” he asked.
“Called, texted, emailed, Facebooked, and Instagrammed. I didn’t even have an Instagram account before now. I set it up specifically so I could try to contact her. She’s ignoring me. She wants nothing to do with me, not that I blame her.” I turned toward him. “You would have a better chance of talking to her than I do. She likes you.”
“She’s not answering any of my texts either,” Dorian said with a shrug. “Have you tried contacting her family?”
I groaned. “No,” I said. “I f
eel bad enough as it is. I don’t want them yelling at me too.”
We sat in miserable silence for a few moments before Dorian spoke again.
“What happened?”
“You saw what happened,” I mumbled. “Clarissa ambushed me and Frankie saw and jumped to conclusions and—”
“No,” Dorian said, shaking his head. “You’ve been here for weeks. It’s obvious that the two of you are head over heels for each other, I mean, why else would Francesca have rebuffed all my advances?”
I didn’t smile. I may have growled.
“So, if the two of you were in love, why didn’t you make it official and give up the whole pretending gig?”
“I tried,” I said with a sigh. “I told her how I felt and she walked—no, she ran away. She isn’t in love with me and she probably turned you down because, well, you’re a bit of a jerk.”
Dorian snorted. “Women love me. If Francesca turned me down, it was because she was interested in someone else and that someone was you. I just don’t know how you managed to screw it up.”
“That’s my super power,” I replied, lifting the glass for another drink. “I screw things up.”
Dorian shook his head slowly. “I don’t know where you got that idea from. You seem to be doing a hell of a job for the king. As much as I hate to admit it, you were right about the co-op idea.”
“Did that hurt?” I asked, turning to look at Dorian.
“What?”
“Did it hurt to admit you were wrong?” I asked with a smirk.
“Yes, well, I may have been wrong but at least I didn’t chase away the best thing in my life.”
I groaned and dropped my head to the bar. “Why are you here again?”
“To cheer you up.”
“Yeah, well, you suck at it.”
