Page 63 of Tempting Frankie
I clutch the phone to my chest, feeling my face heat up even more. “It's private!”
“Private, my ass. Nothing's private in this family.” She grins, then sobers. “Seriously, though. Did something happen with Alexander? Is that why you're here, drowning in self-pity?”
I shake my head, feeling tears prick at my eyes. “No, it's not. Alexander's perfect. Too perfect. I don't deserve him.”
“Okay, now I know something's fucked up,” Kat says, her voice gentle. “You wanna tell me what's really going on?”
I take a shake breath before the words come tumbling all out.
Chapter 23
Francesca
FIVE DAYS LEFT
“Francesca DeLuca?” he asks, looking about as confused as I feel.
“That's me,” I croak, my voice rusty from disuse. I've barely spoken in the days since I fled to the apartment like my ass was on fire.
I stare at the delivery guy, dumbfounded, as he hands over a box that's way too fancy. He gives me a look that screams 'rich people are fucking weird'.
“Sign here,” he drawls, clearly bored out of his mind. I scrawl something that might be my name if you squint really hard and slam the door in his face.
“What's that?” Kat calls from the kitchen, where she's probably burning water or something.
“Nothing,” I mutter, but my trembling hands betray me as I tear into the package.
Holy shit. It's a treasure trove of my guilty pleasures. Sour Patch Kids that make my mouth water just looking at them. Abox of truffles that probably cost more than this entire building. And...no fucking way. Is that what I think it is?
I pull out a script, my heart doing a little jig in my chest. Empire Records. Signed by the entire goddamn cast.
“Damn, girl,” Kat whistles, peering over my shoulder. “He’s pulling out all the stops, huh?”
I want to tell her to fuck off, but I'm too busy running my fingers over Liv Tyler's signature like it holds the secrets of the universe.
My phone buzzes, right on cue. It's him, of course. Always him.
I hope this brightens your day, little one. Though nothing could shine as brightly as your smile. I miss you. Come home soon.
“Fuck,” I whisper, torn between wanting to cry and wanting to book it back to his place right this second.
It's been three days. Three days of wallowing in self-pity, binging on junk food, and pretending the outside world doesn't exist.
I reach for the script with trembling hands. It's my favorite movie, the one I watch when I need to feel like the world isn't totally shitty. How the hell did Alexander even know that?
The script falls open, and a note flutters out. I recognize Alexander's bold handwriting immediately.
Francesca,
Your sister mentioned this was your comfort movie. I hope it brings you some joy. Remember, “I don't regret the things I've done, but those I did not do.” When you're ready, I'll be here.
Yours always,
Alexander
I grab a handful of sour candy, shoving it into my mouth like I'm trying to fill the Alexander-shaped hole in my chest with sugar and artificial flavoring. The tartness explodes on my tongue, making my eyes water even more.
My phone buzzes again.
