Page 43 of The Ex Effect
No doubt. I thanked my lucky stars I bought my small townhouse when I did, back when home prices were affordable and interest rates were next to nothing.
I sifted through more pictures when I foundthe box. Maybe it was because they’d grown older and Quinn was doing her own thing, but soon Frankie andQuinnpictures morphed into Frankie andMorganpictures. Thickness built in my throat as I flipped through dozens of photos. Frankie and I running through sprinklers, having a sleepover in Peaches’s house with a plastic gallon ice-cream bucket filled with buttered popcorn. More photos of sporting events, standing outside the movie theater after Peaches dropped us off. Of course, I distinctly remembered telling our parents we were going to watch some PG movie, then sneaking in to watch an R-rated horror movie. We stuffed ourselves with so many grape pixie sticks that I threw up after I got home. I kept flipping. More pictures of us as we grew older, both of us holding up our driver’s licenses with a big thumbs-up, and of course, prom.
The prom photos nearly made my eyes prickle. Frankie had her long hair slicked back in a tight ponytail and wore an oversized suit with a tie. I vaguely remembered Frankie’s parents throwing a fit and begging her to wear a dress, which Frankie, always the tomboy, had scoffed at. But I had felt like a princess that night. Floor-length, dark blue, spaghetti-strap, draped dress with a sequined corset top and matching blue heels. I’d spent the two weeks prior learning to walk in heels and had lovedbeing nearly as tall as Frankie that night. As Frankie’s shipping tape screeched, adhering another box, I kept sifting.
And then, the picture of high school graduation. My breath froze. Thebeforepicture was full of hopeful smiles, glowing with the energy of people ready to enter the real world. My pinkie flicked the top corner of the photo, lost in the memory of that day, a swirl of cap throwing, cheering, and sobbing while saying goodbye to friends.
“What are you looking at over there?” Frankie asked as she tossed utensils into a box.
“Oh, um…” I cleared my throat and tossed the photo into the box. “Nothing.”
I needed to address our relationship, and soon. The closure we both deserved lingered like a droopy, gray cloud. No matter how much the conversation was digging into the tip of my tongue, I just couldn’t release it. I wasn’t ready to hear the confirmation that I wasn’t good enough for Frankie to have stayed back.
“Hey, you good if we swing by the donation center and drop off a load on the way to Zoey’s Bakery?” Frankie asked.
I checked my watch and lifted myself from the floor. “If we don’t leave now, we won’t get to the bakery a proper ten minutes prior, then we’ll be late.”
“Heaven forbid.” Frankie smirked, then paused. She shifted, her expression serious, and took a quick breath. “So sorry. I didn’t mean that. Of course we’ll make sure to get there early. That’s important for you, so…it’s important to me.”
Wow. Frankie really had heard me the other week about punctuality. A warmth spread through me.
“Hey, maybe after Zoey’s we can…” Frankie started to say but closed her mouth when she heaved a box and moved to the front door. “Oh shit, that’s heavy. Can you grab the door?”
I scooted to the door and opened it, being super helpful by following Frankie to the truck, armed and ready to call out ifany rogue squirrels ran in her path. After she dropped the box into the bed with a heavy thud, I walked with her back into the house. “What were you saying, about after Zoey’s?”
Frankie lifted a box and squinted. “Oh. Sorry. Who knows? I’m like a fish, I swear. If it didn’t happen two seconds ago, I have no idea.”
Those were her words, but her avoided eye contact conveyed something else. I lifted a smaller box, my insides unsettled, and trailed Frankie back to the truck.
NINETEEN
FRANKIE
Seriously, stop using ADHD as an excuse. I pulled Peaches’s truck out of the driveway with Morgan riding shotgun and scolded myself. My therapist wouldnotbe happy with me right now. Because I knew exactly what I’d been going to say to Morgan back at the house. I was going to ask her out for dinner.
After working together for two months and eating sandwiches or takeout at the barn or Peaches’s house, having dinner probably didn’t seem like that big of a deal. But I didn’t meansupper. I meantdinner. At a restaurant with wine and a server, eating from a plate with actual silverware, not a box with chopsticks.
But also dinner was a terrible fucking idea. What in God’s name was I thinking? If dinner went well, thenafterdinner might go really well, and if all that went well…then it wouldn’t be well.At all. I’d be repeating history, with full knowledge of how painful everything was last time.
As the truck shook from bumping over a hefty pothole, I looked at Morgan’s bouncing body like a horny teenager and gripped the steering wheel to stop myself from doing something stupid. But being in such close quarters with Morgan was doingme no favors, and more than once I lingered over Morgan’s shoulders to inhale the signature scent from her neck.
After dropping off a load at the donation center, I steered the truck down Main to Zoey’s Bakery. Inside, the air swirled with an intense chocolate and buttered-dough aroma.This might be the best job ever. Morgan said earlier she’d never encountered a couple who wanted the coordinator to cake test before but was up for the challenge. Of course, she’d said that with a twinkle in her eye, and invited me along. The combination of spending some non-manual labor time with Morgan while eating sugary desserts sounded like a perfect afternoon.
Zoey popped around the corner. “Hey, friends!” She waved Morgan and me to a small side table in the corner. “You excited for today?”
“Cannot wait. I finally have an excuse to try everything in your shop.” Morgan pulled out a chair and sat. “Hey, how is prepping for the Fourth of July event going? I heard from Connie at the coffee shop this morning that it’s going to be huge this year.”
Morgan should really run for mayor. Or CEO of Spring Harbors. Orsomething. Because I swear to God, she knew everyone and everything that happened around here. At first, it seemed almost creepy, how everyone knew everyone’s business. But now it was comforting. I ran into the guy from the auto shop the other day at the grocery store, and he asked me if Morgan’s car was still holding up after I fixed it back in May.
Back in May.
“You know the whole gratitude thing, right? Great opportunity, great for business, excited to do it. Blah, blah. I know it hasn’t even happened yet, but if I never see another red, white, and blue firework cupcake in my life, it’ll be too soon.” Zoey leaned back on her heels and tugged on her pink apron string. “But I’m actually really excited for today. We have the usuals, of course, but I just tried a new salted black sesame and pistachiocake that was freaking delicious, if I do say so myself. So, even though that’s not a typical wedding cake, I want you to give it shot.”
“That actually sounds really good,” I said, my mouth already watering. “Can’t wait to try.”
As Zoey walked away, I eyed the display case next to the table. Behind the glass lay chocolates shaped like miniature gift boxes with edible gold, a small fruit tart that looked like glass, and delicate yet beautiful pink cupcakes, all nestled around pink tulle. Normally, this much pink would give me serious Pepto vibes, but Zoey had it decorated with perfection.
“Does Zoey do this all herself?” I asked.
