Page 49 of The Ex Effect
“Theflowers,” I whimpered. The wedding had a ton of important items, of course, but this rated pretty high on the list. “I need to call Delilah and reschedule. Maybe this afternoon or tomorrow? But the electrician is finishing the wiring tomorrow, but maybe Sam can be there? Ugh. I forgot—Sam needs to go to the other job site, but maybe he can stop by first? I don’t know, though. The electrician gave us a time-frame, and you know?—”
“Hey.” Frankie’s voice was low, soothing, as her fingertips stroked my arm. “We can figure this out later. Delilah was there when we heard about the accident. I’m sure she’ll work with you to reschedule. I took some pics of the flowers and Delilah already had some great ideas. We can manage this. For now, let’s head back to your place and get you cleaned up, then figure out next steps.”
She was probably right. I wouldn’t go into town looking as dirty as I was, and if Delilah was fine with rescheduling, the best thing would be to clean myself up and work on things I could manage from home. “Okay, I’ll head home and call you later. Maybe I’ll finish up the childhood photo stands and get those packed up.”
Frankie shook her head. “If you think I’m leaving your side right now, you’re insane.”
Damn my insides turning warm at those words.
After I slipped into a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top, I could finally inspect the scratches all over my arms. Thankfully, they were only surface level and no blood, but enough covered me where my skin flamed pink. I slathered anti-bacterialointment on myself just in case and moved into the living room where Frankie was sitting, focused on her phone.
When Frankie’s eyes shifted from her screen to me, her gaze dipped and slowly inched up my body anddammit. Ifeltthat look. I really needed to ignore that look, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t an expert at reading body language, but it seemed pretty obvious to me that Frankie, at least physically, wanted the same thing as me. Instead of indulging in the idea, I moved into the kitchen and grabbed a bowl of grapes and two lemonades.
When I returned and scooted next to her, an entirely new look replaced Frankie’s face. Knitted brows, a slight frown, and heavy sighs.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked.
“Like what?”
I plucked off a grape and rolled it in my fingers. “Like you’re worried I’m going to keel over or something. You know I wasn’thitin the accident, right? The scratches and bruises are because I lost a serious fight with some feathered friends.” I meant to lighten the mood, but Frankie almost looked like she was going to cry. Sure, terrible joke butcome on.
Frankie stared at her hands, rubbing each fingertip with her index finger. “I just can’t stand the thought of anything happening to you.”
“Aww.” I crunched on a grape and grinned.“I didn’t know you cared so much.”
“I never stopped caring.”
Wow.Frankie’s tone was filled with so much intention and sincerity that I didn’t know what the hell I was supposed to do with that. I slowly swallowed the fruit as the silence grew.
Maybe it was the drama of what happened, or the acknowledgment that I had limited time left with Frankie, or a desperate, desperate need to conclude the past. But something in me propelled me to say, “You never cared enough to stay.”
I didn’t want to hear that I was right. I wanted Frankie to break down and say she regretted leaving and that she had never stopped thinking about me over the years, and if she had to do it over again, she would’ve never left.
Yes, Frankie leaving destroyed me back then, but I really did get over it. Over the years, I had numerous relationships, built my business, and went months, perhaps years, without thinking of her. But I can’t say that it didn’t affect me—that my first great love not loving me enough to stay didn’t still burn a hole inside my heart.
Frankie’s chest lifted and then dropped with a heavy exhale. For a moment, it seemed like Frankie might storm out. Instead, she shifted closer. “That’s not true.”
I stared out my front window and watched a squirrel run up a tree trunk. Now was the time, but how do you tell someone everything you’ve kept bottled up for years? How could I put into words how this affected me and get closure from something that happened fifteen years ago? “You broke my heart when you left.”
There was a crack in my voice that I didn’t appreciate, but the words were true. Frankie gutted me when she left.
“You broke mine when you wouldn’t go with me,” Frankie said through a sigh.
My heart squeezed, and I blinked back tears.
Frankie propped an elbow on the couch’s back and rested her head in her hand. “I thought for sure you would. I thought you would take a chance, for once in your life, and do something spontaneous. College would always be there, but we had a real chance to get out, to make this other life for us, to try something different. And when you wouldn’t come with, I just… Everything crashed.” Frankie paused, staring into my eyes. “It felt like your life plan was more important than my life plan, and…it just killed me. I never stopped thinking about you. That first year, I picked up the phone a million times to callyou. I missed my girlfriend. I missed my friend. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
Oof. That never occurred to me. I just assumed since Frankie left, she hurt less. She left for this fabulous new life in an amazing city, and I shifted into an afterthought.
So many moments passed, my stomach dropping by the second. “Do you ever regret leaving?”
A soft sad grin tugged at Frankie’s mouth. “There’s a ton of things I regret. I regret the way I left things with you, that I let my stubbornness take the better of me, and that I never reached out to you.” Frankie exhaled. “But no. I don’t regret leaving.”
Those words were not harsh, but they hit in the realest way possible. Frankie didn’t regret leaving me or moving to New York. Which means, given the same opportunity, she’d do it again. My insides burned with the words, but it was also what I needed to hear.
“Do you ever regret not coming with?” Frankie asked, her eyebrows pinched.
Like Frankie, I had a lot of regrets—allowing our friendship to die along with our relationship and letting anger prevent me from reaching out as well. But staying? That was always the right move. I was never meant to live anywhere else. “No. I don’t regret staying. This will always be my home.”
