“I still think it would all be worth it,” Frankie finished softly. “And I think one day Lea will too, if she doesn’t already. And maybe you as well, if you ever let someone in. Speaking of which…” She turned on the bench and gave me a knowing look. “Who the heck is Lucas, and why did he run out on my sister this morning? Do I need to send my husband to kick someone’s ass? And I thought you were hot for your boss?”
I sighed, suddenly hating that I came from a family that loved to gossip. Thanks to Joni, all my siblings knew about my crush on Daniel Lyons.
“Lucasismy boss,” I grumbled.
“I thought his name was Daniel.”
“Lucas is his older brother. They’re…” I shook my head. “Lucas is sort of the head of the whole family. They’re all my bosses, but Lucas…Lucas is the boss of them too. And I’m here as his private chef.”
It sounded so simple when explained in that way.
“It’s complicated,” I finished.
“Most interesting things are. Tell me.”
As we walked through the park, past the Peter Pan statue and toward the Italian Gardens with their ornate fountains and formal flower beds, I told her about the party at Prideview, about Daniel’s invitation, our dance, and the odd “date” we’d shared in the boathouse
“Honestly? If that had been my first kiss, I think I would have cried,” Frankie said..
I shared about Lucas interrupting and whisking me away on this month-long business trip that had turned into something substantially more. I recounted the growing attraction I felt for a man I’d barely noticed before Paris, about the conversations in São Paulo, the connections in Japan, and being forced to share a bed together on our first night in London.
And finally, my cheeks burning with embarrassment, I told her about this morning. How I’d woken up in Lucas’s arms, all but begged him to touch me, then about how we’d both lost control, I fled to the shower, and he disappeared.
Frankie listened without judgment, occasionally asking clarifying questions but mostly just letting me talk. She wasn’t officially aware, like Joni was, that I was still a virgin, but I was guessing on some level, she knew, as sisters usually did.
When I finished, we had made it all the way around the path and back to the other side of the lake. There, we found another bench where we could watch tourists take pictures and enjoy the last of the afternoon sun.
“What do you know about Daniel’s drinking?” she asked.
The question caught me off guard. “I tell you that whole story, and that’s what you want to come back to?”
“You have three questions to answer here, Marie. One, do you want to get involved with either of your bosses at all? Sounds like you have already crossed that bridge with both of them, so we’ll say yes. Two, how do they feel about you? And three, knowing that, which one do you want, if any? Because it sounds like you might have your choice.” She drummed her fingers on her knee. “Let’s start with the one you’ve been imagining at the end of an altar since you were fifteen. In every story you just told me about him, it sounds like he was drinking. A lot. Meanwhile, you’ve been afraid to have more than a sip of communion wine your whole life until he sees you at a party and pours champagne down your throat. Have you had any genuine conversations with him sober?”
I thought about the times I’d talked to Daniel since returning to New York, and since leaving again on this trip with Lucas. Frankie was right. Even on the plane from Paris, he’d consumed a consistent stream of cocktails. Daniel was the life of the party, but that life was accompanied by a slight slur, background noise of bars, a redness in his cheeks that wasn’t from high-energy activities.
I’d written it off as social drinking, but maybe that was because I didn’t really understand what that meant in the first place. Or maybe I just didn’t want to see the fact that Daniel Lyons had a problem.
Which meant I didn’t really know who he was. And I didn’t really know what he felt about me. Or if he felt anything at all.
“And Lucas?” Frankie asked. “Does he drink?”
“He—well, he does, but not often. And I actually haven’t seen him have anything to drink since we’ve been on this trip.” I frowned. “He knows about Mami and Dad. Do you think that has anything to do with it?”
“I don’t know him. But if he stopped for you without you even asking, that sounds pretty thoughtful to me, like the rest of it. What else is he like?”
I had to think about it. “He’s intense. Controlled. But then there are moments when he lets go, and it’s like someone opened the door to a dark room and let the sunshine in. Sometimes I feel like he wants to show me everything about himself, and other times, he keeps me at arm’s length. I think he does that with everyone. I don’t think he’s often allowed to do what he wants because he has to do so much for everyone else.”
“Sounds like Mattie. Lea, too. Typical oldest child, taking care of everyone else’s needs before their own. Both of them think that showing vulnerability is tantamount to failure. Xavi gets like that too.”
“How do you get past it?”
“Time. Patience. And refusing to let him treat me like another problem to solve.” Frankie’s smile was wry. “Plus, we had a lot of very direct conversations about what we actually wanted from each other and from life. I’m not great at saying what I want either, so it’s something we have both had to work on.” She looked at me knowingly. “It’s the hardest part of growing up in such a big family. Too easy to be overshadowed. You have to reteach yourself to know what you want in the first place. And then you have to learn to say it out loud instead of waiting for someone to ask.”
But he does ask, I wanted to say, though Frankie was already checking her watch.He asks me all the time.
“We need to get back. Xavi will be home soon, and we usually have an early dinner with the girls.”
We began the walk back to Mayfair as the sun was starting to slip past the trees, casting long shadows through the park. The lavender lemonade had left a pleasant floral taste on my tongue,and the conversation with Frankie, while not particularly clarifying, had calmed some of my initial panic.