by Emma Lea
“So that’s it? There’s nothing more to say?”
“That’s right. We’re done and I don’t know how many more times I can say it or how many different ways I need to say it to get you to accept it.”
“Fine,” Clarissa spat and stormed out.
I breathed a sigh of relief and collapsed onto a chair. I had never had a confrontation like that before…I’d never really had any confrontation before. My heart raced with the letdown of adrenaline and I felt weirdly wired. Never before had I actually stood up to someone and held my ground. I think I surprised Clarissa as much as I surprised myself. Now if I could only do that with my parents, I might have crossed over into being a fully formed adult.
I wouldn’t hold my breath, though. I may have said what I needed to say to Clarissa, but the stakes were nowhere near as high as standing up to my parents…or Frankie.
I didn’t exactly expect to have a confrontation with Frankie, although I would need to argue my case and hold my ground. There might even be tears—mine, not hers—but I knew I had to do this. It was my last shot at getting the life of my dreams. For far too long I had been happy to just go along with everyone else’s plan for my life, but coming to Kalopsia showed me I could reach for something I want and achieve it. Now I was greedy for all the things. I wanted this new life in Kalopsia and I wanted it with Frankie by my side.
Now I just had to convince Frankie.
Chapter 25
Francesca
Another day, another shift at the bar.
The days had begun to run one into another with nothing to distinguish them. I wasn’t depressed, I just didn’t feel anything anymore. Mom said I was grieving, and she was probably right. Lucas hadn’t died, but the relationship we’d had for five years was certainly dead in the water and I knew I was to blame.
I sighed and groaned and stretched all at once. I was tired, except I couldn’t sleep. I just lay in bed all night and stared at the ceiling, rehashing the entire month I’d been in Kalopsia with Lucas, and wondering what I could have done differently. Some nights, I wished I’d turned down his initial proposal and then other nights I wished I’d been brave enough to accept the words he offered me on the terrace that night…when he told me he loved me…and I told him I didn’t love him back.
It was a lie, of course. I knew it then, just as I knew it now. I’d been lying to both of us, and Mom had been right. I was scared. I was scared I would never be enough for Lucas. I snorted softly to myself. I’d spent my life believing I was too much; too loud, too outspoken, too brash, but when it came to being with Lucas for real, I was afraid all of that was just a thin veneer and what was underneath was not nearly deep enough or wide enough to satisfy a man like Lucas. Lucas had depths and layers—like onions, ogres, and parfaits—and even though I felt like I knew him best, I still didn’t think I knew all of him.
Me? I was a kind of ‘what you see is what you get’ girl and I doubted there would ever be enough to keep Lucas interested in me long-term.
“I can close up if you want to head home early,” Sherry said.
I frowned at her. “You closed up for me last time.”
Sherry shrugged and looked down at the bar. “I don’t mind.”
I rolled my lips together and looked at my friend. We weren’t close, just work friends, but there was something going on and if I’d been myself, I would have picked up on it before this.
“Do you need the extra money?” I asked. Okay, it was kind of rude to just ask someone if they were broke, but I wasn’t exactly a subtle conversationalist.
“Extra money doesn’t hurt,” Sherry said with a grin, but she was still hiding something.
“Hmm…what aren’t you telling me?”
Sherry shot a look over her shoulder before leaning on the bar. “Nothing. Everything’s good, great actually, I just thought, you know, you’ve been so sad since you came back and—”
“Stop,” I said, holding up my hand to hold back the drivel spilling from her mouth. “While I appreciate that you care about me, I know that’s not what is motivating this sudden dedication to your job.” I leaned closer. “So spill. What’s going on?”
She looked over her shoulder once again and I followed her gaze right to the ‘Staff Only’ door that led back to the office where our boss was no doubt pulling his hair out over the state of the books. Drinks was doing fine. It was popular and had even gotten a little boost from my fifteen seconds of fame, but Chris liked to worry about everything.
I looked back at Sherry, whose cheeks were flaming.
“Really?” I asked. “Chris?”
She shrugged and blushed more. “He’s not always so cranky.”
“Uh-huh.” I crossed my arms over my chest and watched Sherry as she squirmed.
“Nothing’s happened,” she said, drawing her finger through a wet glass ring on the bar. “We just talk and stuff as we’re packing up.”
“You haven’t even kissed him yet?”
She shook her head. “No, but…”
I could just imagine what Sherry was going to say. A late night, the lights low as they finished packing up the chairs and wiping over tables. Maybe they shared a drink and sat a little too close. Maybe a tendril of her hair fell down around her face and Chris tucked it behind her ear. Maybe his fingers lingered a little too long on her cheek, her neck. Maybe he even leaned in to kiss her, but they were interrupted by a phone call or someone banging on the front door thinking they were still open.
I smiled. I knew what those moments felt like. No, I’d never been in the exact same position, but there was an atmosphere to the moment, a stillness when the world seemed to stop and everything else faded away right before he leaned in and kissed me.
I’d specifically not let myself think about those moments with Lucas because it was those moments that felt more real than the life I was living right now. How could the fantasy possibly feel more real than real life?
“Okay,” I said with a long exhale. “I think I might head home.”
“You don’t mind?” she asked, biting her lip.
“I don’t mind,” I replied. “I’m happy for you.”
Sherry rolled her eyes. “I’m probably just imagining it—”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Don’t write it off before it even has a chance to begin. Just go with it and as long as it feels good, then enjoy it.”
“You should probably take some of your own advice,” a voice said from beside me.
I turned slowly, barely able to breathe because I recognized that voice. He shouldn’t be here. Why was he here?
I swallowed. “What’s a man like you doing in a bar like this?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light and casual.
“I’m here for you,” Lucas said.
He looked tired. He looked like I felt.
“Frankie’s just finishing up,” Sherry piped up unhelpfully. “Why don’t you two crazy kids get out of here?”
I glared daggers at Sherry, but she ignored me and smiled at Lucas.
“Maybe get her drunk,” Sherry said. “She needs to blow off some steam.”
Lucas
Frankie was a sight for sore eyes, but if I’d had any fantasies she would jump into my arms, I was sadly mistaken. She looked at me with suspicion as we walked away from the bar and she conveniently stayed just a step too far away from me so there was no accidental touching.
“Why are you here?” she asked again.
“I told you. I came for you.”
“But you have Clarissa now. You don’t need me.”
I sighed. “I don’t have Clarissa and I don’t want Clarissa. I want you, Frankie, and it’s not because you think you are my security blanket. Sure, I may have been guilty of using you like that in the past, but things have changed. I have changed and my wanting you has nothing to do with needing to feel safe and everything to do with how you make me feel.”
“Yeah, I make you feel safe.”
I stopped and tugged at m
y hair with a growl. “Look, I might not be making the words come out properly, but you are deliberately misinterpreting them.”
She stopped and turned back to face me. “I don’t think I am.”
“Of course you don’t because you think you are always right,” I growled out in frustration.
Her eyes widened at my outburst.
I sighed and tipped my face to the sky, trying to tamp down my frustration. “Look, I get it. I know how you see me. You think I’m this weak guy with anxiety issues. And yeah, I am, I admit it. I freak out over stupid things and let my anxiety get the better of me more times than I care to count. And yes, when you are around, my anxiety is far more manageable, but that’s not the only thing between us.” I took a breath and looked her directly in the eye. “I’m invoking BFF code of conduct, rule number one; always tell the truth. This is my truth. I am in love with you. I love spending time with you and I love listening to you talk and watching you talk to every person who comes across our path. I love having you in my arms and kissing you and I love the way your hair has a mind of its own and I love the way your brain works.
“I love the way you wake up so suddenly and how your body is moving before your brain is even functioning. I love the way you twirl a piece of hair around your finger when you’re studying and how you trail your fingers along your thigh when you’re reading a particularly spicy book.”
I sighed and closed my eyes for a moment before opening them again and catching her gaze with mine. “I love all these little, seemingly insignificant things about you and I love how much shared history we have and our little inside jokes and…well, I love the way you make me a better person. Just by being in my life, you make me better. You bring color and tone and depth into my life and you see me. You’re the only person who has ever really seen me.
“I’ve been half in love with you since the moment you stopped to help me pick up the books you knocked out of my arms but I never thought you would ever see me as that guy, the guy you could be with. And then things changed when we were in Kalopsia and I think you felt things change too.”
Frankie dropped her gaze to the pavement, and I held my breath. I didn’t know what else to say to convince her that what I felt for her went beyond friendship.
She looked up and her eyes were suspiciously shiny. “Things did change, Lucas,” she whispered. “But that doesn’t mean it would work out for us. We are so different and you now have this amazing opportunity and I would only hold you back. You have a title, for god’s sake, and I am just a bartender who likes to wear jeans and boots and has hair that never stays styled no matter how much product I use.”
I stepped toward her and rested my hands on her shoulders. I wanted to pull her into my chest and wrap my arms around her and never let her go, but I didn’t, she wasn’t ready for that yet, she still needed space.
“I don’t care about any of that,” I said. “If working in Kalopsia for Jamie is a problem, then I will walk away from it—”
“No! No, you can’t do that. You would end up resenting me and I couldn’t live with that.”
“So come back with me,” I said. “Come back to Kalopsia and stay with me and work with me and marry me.”
She stared at me for a beat but then glanced away.
“I can’t,” she said.
“Why?”
“Why? Because of all those reasons I just listed. I am not the woman you marry and give a title to, Lucas. I can’t be sweet and sophisticated and graceful. I am loud and uncouth and prefer to drink with the locals than hobnob with other royals. I would be a curiosity for a while, like a new toy, and then everyone would get sick of me—you would get sick of me, and then what? It’s just better to skip all that and try to keep our friendship intact rather than messing it up with a breakup that neither of us would recover from.”
“You’re wrong,” I said, but I knew I wouldn’t convince her. Frankie had to realize on her own how good we could be and there was nothing more I could say to change her mind.
“Lucas—”
“No, listen. I get it. I get you’re scared and it’s a gigantic leap for you. If anyone can understand how scary trying new things is, it’s me. But listen, I love you. I am in love with you and that isn’t going to go away. Not now and not in fifty years when we’re both old and gray. But I won’t force you to do something you don’t want to do. I do, however, have something else to tell you. An offer from the king, and it has no bearing on whether or not you want to be with me.”
“The king wants to offer me something?” she asked, blinking in surprise.
“He wants to offer you a job,” I replied.
“A job?” she squeaked.
“He wants you to come back so you can do your interview with him, but then, after you graduate, he wants you on his team. He wants you to consult on the rebuilding efforts and to liaise with the spokespeople from the village. He wants your input into what the country needs, what the community needs.”
“You’re joking.”
I shook my head. “I’m not, and as I said, it has nothing to do with you and me. You can tell me to take a hike and Jamie would still want you to work for him.”
She blinked at me without speaking for so long that I sighed. I leaned in and brushed a kiss on her cheek, breathing in her scent before stepping back and letting my arms drop from her shoulders.
“I missed you, Frankie,” I said. “I hope you think about what I said. I’ll be here until the day after tomorrow. I’m in meetings all day tomorrow with Effie and then I’m going back. If you want to talk about the job…or about us, you have my number.” I took a long look at her, probably my last one, and I smiled sadly. “It really was good seeing you.”
I turned and walked away without looking back.
Francesca
I watched Lucas walk away and felt my heart walking away with him.
It was like a dream; seeing him again, listening to the way he told me all the things he loved about me, him actually standing up to me and calling me on my crap. It didn’t sound like the same Lucas who’d stumbled into the bar a few short months ago and told me he needed me to help him because he was too afraid to stand up to his father and yet…hadn’t I seen hints of this new and improved Lucas in the weeks we spent in Kalopsia?
I blew out a slow breath.
He wanted me. He wanted me for more than just his support pet. He actually wanted the woman I was, warts and all. No one knew me like Lucas knew me. He’d seen me at my worst and he’d never walked away…until now. But then I could hardly blame him. I’d walked away first. I’d taken his confession and the love he offered me and I’d turned my back on it and on him.
“Lucas!” I called, but it was too late. He was gone.
I pulled out my phone to call him and get him to come back, but my finger froze over his number. I needed to do this right. I’d made so many mistakes, and he deserved more than a phone call in the middle of the night and me blubbering all over him. It had taken some serious intestinal fortitude for him to come to Boston and pour his heart out—yet again—to me. He deserved a similar gesture in return.
How I would do that, I had no idea, but Mom might. I needed to talk to her, and I needed to make some plans. I was more the spontaneous surprise kind of person, but if Lucas could be spontaneous and come to me, then I could try a bit of planning in return. He deserved it. Lucas deserved to have someone do something for him for a change. The man always seemed to bend over backwards to help everyone else, and it was time someone—me—did something for him.
I just didn’t know what.
I called an Uber and headed home, while my brain discarded plan after plan. I burst through the door expecting Mom to be awake and waiting for me, but of course she wasn’t, and I couldn’t wake her.
I headed up to my room and flopped on my bed. What was I doing? I couldn’t even come up with a way to declare my feelings for Lucas, even though I knew I loved him and wanted to be with him. This was why I always tho
ught we’d be a terrible idea together, because I wasn’t good at this stuff. I wasn’t good at the deep and meaningful; I was only good at the over-the-top and shallow. How could I be a good partner for Lucas? How could I be a good employee for the king?
My stomach clenched.
I had a choice to make.
I could go on believing I would never be good enough for the people around me, or I could choose to believe something new.
I could choose to believe I was good enough.
I could choose to believe it when Lucas told me he loved me.
It sounded like something that should be easy to do, but it wasn’t. I’d spent so many years believing I wasn’t good enough that my heart and brain rebelled at the idea of changing the narrative.
We are the stories we tell ourselves.
Wasn’t that why I enjoyed hearing other people’s stories? Because it wasn’t listening to what other people said that told you the most about someone. It was listening to what they said about themselves.
We are the stories we tell ourselves.
Now I just had to tell myself a new story. The story where I wasn’t ‘too much’ or ‘not enough.’ The story where yes, people liked me for who I was and if they didn’t, then it didn’t matter. The story where it was okay for me to fall in love with a man who was opposite to me. The story where we had a happily ever after.
I just had to choose that story and then go after it with all my heart.
