I hesitate. A fraction of a second. A breath held just a little too long. But for me, it feels like I might as well be singing it in front of a stadium of people.
Finally, I exhale. “Yes.”
Beau doesn’t blink, doesn’t ask for details. Just nods once, turns, and grabs something from just inside his apartment. He returns a moment later, feet stuffed into boots and keys clutched in one hand, a bat in the other.
“A bat,” I deadpan.
Beau shrugs, resting it over his shoulder like it’s an extension of his arm. “It’s never let me down before. I don’t think it’ll start now.”
I don’t waste time arguing. “Fine. Bring the bat.” I hold out Romeo’s leash and bag. “But I still need someone to watch him.”
“I’ve got him,” Eloise murmurs from behind Beau. “Is Francesca okay?”
I nod my gratitude as she steps forward and takes Romeo’s leash. I crouch down and drop a kiss to the top of his head, running my palms over the side of his face the way he likes. “Be a good boy. I’ll be back soon.”
Eloise and Beau murmur their goodbyes, and my brother doesn’t waste an opportunity to kiss her like I’m not standing a foot in front of them.
I straighten and turn toward the door, not waiting for Beau to follow. I can hear his boots against the hardwood as he falls into step behind me.
We’re silent as we make our way out of the building and to my car. The night air is cool against my skin, a sharp contrast to the heat simmering just beneath the surface. Every muscle in my body is coiled tight, ready to snap at a moment’s notice.
As soon as we’re both in the car, doors shut and engine humming to life, Beau turns to me. “Where are we going?”
My voice is lethal. Absolute. “To bring my wife home.”
50
FRANCESCA
I glare at my sister.“Are you even pregnant, or was it all a lie?”
Florence sits stiffly on the edge of the settee, hands twisted in her lap. Her face is pale, drawn, and for the first time in her life, she looks small. Like a woman drowning in the consequences of her choices, no longer the pristine, carefully curated version of herself she presents to the world.
“I’m sorry, Frankie.”
My stomach clenches. The old nickname, the one that used to mean something, that belonged to another version of us. It sounds foreign now.
“Don’t.” My voice is sharp. “You don’t get to call me that, remember? Not after this.”
Her lips part, but she doesn’t speak right away. Instead, she lowers her gaze, studying the diamond on her wedding ring like it might hold the answer to everything.
“I didn’t have a choice,” she whispers.
I scoff, shaking my head. “We all have choices, Florence. You just keep making the same ones.”
Her chin jerks up, and for a second, something flashes behind her eyes. Anger, maybe. Or shame. I can’t tell anymore.
“Maybe you should try to get some sleep,” she says after a beat. “Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”
I stare at her, and then I let out a slow, measured breath. “I won’t be here tomorrow. My husband is coming.”
Florence flinches. Just barely. A flicker of movement, so quick I almost miss it. She shakes her head, exhaling through her nose like I’m naive. “He’s really not. They have eyes on him, Frankie.”
The certainty in her voice makes something ugly coil inside my chest. After everything, she still doesn’t get it. She still underestimates him.
I ignore her comment, turning to face her fully. “It’s not too late, you know.”
Her brow furrows. “What?”