Page 24 of The Ex Effect
A moment passed. Then another. “I like pleases to be accompanied with a ‘pretty’ and ‘with a cherry on top.’”
Well, if this didn’t just flash me back to the past. We used to do this to each other—when Frankie really wanted me to go to a game, she’d say this to me, or when I really wanted to do a joint book report, I’d say this to her. I’m not sure if she remembered that or was just teasing. Either way, I gritted my teeth. “You are the biggest asshole in the world.” A smile escaped. “You’re going to make me beg, aren’t you?”
“Sure am.”
Now this time, the smile in Frankie’s voice was undeniable. She was officially, 100 percent the worst human alive. “Pretty, pretty, pretty please with a freaking bowling ball-sized cherry on top, will you help me out?” The words tasted icky. After this, from now until eternity, I’d fly solo.
“Wow, that was a lot of emotion, and I felt it right here. Oh, I’m tapping my heart for reference,” Frankie said, clearly loving every painful moment of this. “For real, though, my aunt and uncle love their place, but I get the sense they are over it.” She took a loud, sharp breath. A few moments passed before she spoke. “Look. I know you’re ambitious. But we’re talking about not only cleaning out that massive disaster station but also remodeling a broken-down barn in less than three months. Can you even find a crew that quick?”
“Don’t worry. I’ve totally got this.” But those words prickled the back of my throat. Supplies, permits, workers, equipment, design, on top of planning a wedding, inninety days. If given more time, no problem. I do this stuff in my sleep. I’ve planned hundreds of weddings. But ninety days to remodelandplan?Yes, I’d sent Frankie at least a dozen texts these last two days talking about my contacts and how I would make this work if Pete and Patty agreed to it, but that was me in fighting mode. This was now reality. I scratched at my neck. We were out of choices. Marlboro-gate was the last real venue available, and no way would I have the wedding there.
“Are you sure?” Frankie said. “This is a ton of work, not to mention a gazillion moving parts.”
It’s like she can read my mind. “I can handle it.”I absolutely cannot handle it. Why did I say that? My belly churned with the undigested cereal, and I pushed the bowl to the side. Floor measurements, plumbing, new windows, cleaning, junk removal…My God, where would we put all the stuff? All moisture depleted from my mouth and skyrocketed to my forehead. “I’ve got this,” I choked out.
“Cool.”
Ugh, I wanted to pluck out Frankie’s annoyingly beautiful brown eyes with that word. I hated this so much…this need, this dependency, on someone else. These things always ended in a disaster. It’s why I never took on an employee, it’s why I owned my own business, it’s why I stayed single all these years. Dependency was an unsteady, splintered crutch that could break at any time.
“I mean,we’vegot this,” I said, fanning my notebook across my face.
Here we go. Like it or not, for the next three months, Frankie and I needed to be locked at the hip.
NINE
FRANKIE
I tossed the bag on the counter and dug out ten rolls of packing tape, and a twelve pack of Sharpies. From here on out, I had zero excuse to not have tape or markers. In less than two weeks, I’d lost them all. Yes, there was a huge amount of crap scattered across Peaches’s place, but it’s like some packing-supply goblin crept in during the day and ate up the materials. I popped open a drawer next to the dishwasher to add the pens.
“Seriously?” I groaned. In the drawer sat one of the missing tapes. Who knows when I did that? I really needed to be more organized, but the piles surrounding me made me want to choke.
In the field shooting or while editing, I know exactly what I want to do. My beautiful gift of hyperfocus takes over and I can manage massive amounts of work in a short period of time. But clutter and making a ton of decisions, and being surrounded by so much stuff, pushes me heavy into decision paralysis. Sometimes, I love being in control. But times like this, I’d give anything just to have someone tell me what to do.
Which…will be my next three months.I really should be careful about what I wish for. Morgan clearly had no problemtelling me, or anyone else, what to do. I’d already fielded about ten text messages from her today, one email, and dodged a call from her at the store…which reminded me…Oops. I forgot to call her back. I’m sure she’ll call any minute now.
This, I remember well from back in the day. Morgan always on my ass for something or another. Remembering my gym bag, or to study for some assignment, or to return a library book. Sometimes I hated it, and sometimes I loved it. A cross between feeling insulted and cared for, and depending on my mood it could swing one way or the other. But I understood it came from a place of love.
Growing up, it probably looked to outsiders like I was the tough one. Just because I loved sports and could tackle the shit out of anyone. But I always cried just as easily. Still do. Morgan was always more emotionally strong and stoic. But I can’t help but think of the way she was at her nephew’s soccer game. Back in the day, I was the one who’d babysit for pocket money and Morgan didn’t like kids. She always said they were too loud and messy, which wasn’t a lie, but I sort of thrived on that. But at the game, I saw this softness, almost motherly side to Morgan, and I couldn’t help but wonder what else changed about her over the years.
My phone buzzed. I glanced down.I knew it.
Morgan:
I’m setting up a goat delivery for the second week of July.
The sheer randomness of her messages, like I’d been floating around in her head all day, jolted me from my thoughts. We hadn’t even reached day one, and she wasn’t running anything by me that I was supposed to oversee. Honestly, I was kind of relieved.
I hovered my thumbs over the screen.
Frankie:
I don’t think Olivia wanted goat rides at her wedding. Donkeys maybe. But definitely not goats.
My phone rang. Before I even said hello, Morgan cut through. “I’ll have you know goats are an extremely effective way of clearing weeds and brush from land. It’s so overgrown that we can have them do the work before the landscapers come in. Cost effective and environmentally friendly.”
Huh. “What do they do with the goat poop?” I was not even kidding. That seemed…not ideal when talking white bridal gowns and fancy shoes.
“Really?” Morgan said in a deliciously irritated tone.
