Page 26 of Say You Will

In the Beginning | Fahrenhaidt, Alice Merton

Izip up thesuitcase and stow it in the back while Franki stuffs the panties from the dog bed into her purse and pulls out Oliver’s harness.

Stop thinking about her panties.

As I move around to stand behind her, Franki straps the car bed into the backseat and lifts Oliver into it. He wiggles his butt, sighs dolefully, then rests his head on the edge of the collapsible box-like structure, watching me the entire time with what I can only describe as an “I’ve got my eye on you” glare. I dip my headin acknowledgment. Oliver’s hackles aren’t up, but he’s clearly disgruntled, viewing me as competition for Franki’s attention. Smart dog.

“Good boy. Play with your toys,” she says.

He huffs, then obeys, snuggling a stuffed toy hot dog like it’s his own child.

When we’re all settled into our seats, I check my mirrors and pull out into traffic. Beside me, Franki sighs and kicks off her shoes. We have more than an hour’s drive before we get to the Hamptons, which gives us time to talk.

“Can you turn my seat warmer on?” she asks.

Reaching for the button, I click it and glance at her in concern. “Are you cold?”

The weather is mild today. No jackets necessary.

She shakes her head. “No. Just a little achey.”

“Heat helps?”

“Sometimes.” Franki sinks back into her seat.

As I navigate the congested streets, I take the time to simply enjoy sitting beside her. I’ve always found Franki an unusually peaceful person to be around, and today is no different.

Her panties didn’t have me feeling peace.

Tightening my hands on the steering wheel, I try to think of something else. The last thing I need right now is to start obsessing over those tiny lace—Stop.I swear to God, if I get an erection right now, I will . . . do literally nothing except hope I don’t embarrass her.

I want to know every single thing that’s happened to her in the years she’s been gone. I don’t ask, though. I know better. She always preferred quiet when she closed her eyes with that look on her face.

Fifteen minutes of quiet introspection later, and Oliver’s snoring becomes soothing background noise that offsets the muffled cacophony of traffic.

Franki turns her head in my direction and says, “You recognized me yesterday.”

I shoot a quick glance her way. “You think I wouldn’t know you because you took your glasses off?”

She watches me like she’s trying to figure me out. “It’s a little more than that. Even Gabriel didn’t recognize me.”

“My brother was on at least his third drink, and you took him by surprise. If he’d seen you somewhere with Bronwyn, he would have recognized you sooner, but you were out of context for him.”

“But not you?”

“I can’t imagine you ever being out of context for me. You don’t look like a different person. Your eyes are the same. So is your smile.”

Her brows draw together. “My smile is completely different.”

“You mean your teeth? I suppose so. I meant”—I make a vague gesture to her face—“the way you light up. The way your face holds happiness.”

I indicate her left arm. “May I?”

She holds her hand out to me, and I rub my thumb over the familiar, small, raised freckle on her pinkie finger.

She blinks rapidly, her brows lifted in the center.

“Franki, I would know you in absolute darkness by the touch of your hand.”

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