Page 18 of Love You A Latte

I nod. “Thank you.”

“What else can I do?”

“Maybe just some water or tea, and I’d like to wash my face, if that’s okay.”

“Of course.”

Frankie shows me to the bathroom, snagging a washcloth from the linen closet and grabbing face wash from the shower, then promising to have tea ready before they step out and close the door behind them.

I take a deep, shaky breath, only belatedly realizing I left my phone on the coffee table. I’m glad I don’t have it in here with me, though I do worry about what else they’re sending. I take a few minutes to freshen up before wrapping all the tattered pieces of my courage around me and stepping back out into Frankie’s apartment.

CHAPTER EIGHT

FRANKIE

I’m losing my mind, sitting here on the couch waiting for Addison to be done in the bathroom. My legs are bouncing, and my jaw is clenched so tight I fear I might crack a molar. Her phone keeps buzzing and lighting up with new notifications, and for some reason it never locked after she opened it, so I can see each text as they come in. Someone named Benji keeps calling her horrible names and telling her how unloveable she is, meanwhile a Sabrina is sending selfies, most of her making vulgar gestures.

I look up when I hear the bathroom door open, trying to soften my features. My heart is breaking for Addison, and I can’t help but furiously wonder how long this has been happening. The hurt I glimpsed before, combined with the body-wracking sobs she let out when I was holding her, tell me it’s been going on much longer than it should have.

Well, it shouldn’t have been happening at all, but regardless, I’m determined to put a stop to it.

I want to open my arms, scoop her up and keep her safe next to me. I’m afraid of scaring her away, though. I can see how tremulous she is about this situation, her hesitance to stay here, and I know if I want her to open up to me I can’t push too hard or fast.

So instead, I offer steaming decaf tea in a mug with a rainbow on it that says ‘Sounds gay af. I’m in.’

She attempts a smile, but it doesn’t stick, and I don’texpect it to. As she sits next to me, her phone lights up again, and she startles with a look of panic when she realizes we can both see it.

“I saw some of them,” I say, trying not to let the fury bleed into my voice. “I’m sorry for invading your privacy, but I’m not sorry I read them.”

She doesn’t reply. She also doesn’t look at me.

“Can I turn it off for now?” I ask, and after a moment of hesitation, she nods weakly.

Thanking any holy beings that may be out there, I snatch the phone and power it down, then try not to smash it back onto the table.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but also we can. Sometimes it helps to get it out.”

Addison peeks at me from behind the rim of her mug as she takes a sip of tea. My eyes plead with her to confide in me, to let me help.

And to my eternal gratitude, she does. She cradles the warm mug between her palms as she spills the whole story, telling me about dating her coworker Benji, and how his actions changed the longer they were together, ultimately resulting in them splitting up. Her delicate fingertips trace the ridges of the rainbow on the mug as she continues, and she describes how she later met Sabrina and fell in love, only to catch her cheating with Benji a year and a half into their relationship.

Addison’s voice wobbles when she gets to the part about breaking up with Sabrina last December, and it’s everything I can do not to demand their addresses. I’ve always been a lover, but these two dickheads are really bringing out the fighter in me. My combat boots are ready to kick some ass.

I wrench my thoughts back when Addison pauses to wipe her eyes. I cup her face in my hands, angling it toward me as I brush away her tears with my thumbs.

“Every single thing they have to say about you is a lie. Don’t listen to a word of it.”

She averts her eyes, and I know she doesn’t believe me. I’ll prove it to her, though. It’s just become my new life mission.

My fingers stroke through her silky hair as she burrows into my shoulder. I suspect she’s minimizing their harassment over the last few months, but I’ll let it go for now.

“I’m sorry for ruining our date,” Addison sniffles a few minutes later.

Her blue eyes are glassy and red-rimmed, her face washed free of makeup. She’s so open and raw in this moment, I want nothing more than to kiss the life back into her.

“You haven’t ruined anything,” I say. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

She shrugs and looks away again.

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