Page 162 of Until August
I turned to look at Frankie, so shocked she was speaking to me that I forgot the question for a moment. It wasn’t even a question. A statement. I couldn’t deny it, but I didn’t think it was right to come out and tell her that I loved another man. That I craved him. Yearned for him. Even on the night of my husband’s memorial service, I still wanted August.
The human spirit is remarkably resilient. And we mortals are inherently selfish.
I cleared my throat. “Are you okay?” I asked instead. It had been so long since we’d spoken civilly to each other that I wasn’t sure how to act. She wore an oversized black Lakers hoodie, ripped jeans, and a black beanie that said: RESPECT. It was the same outfit she’d worn to the Lakers game that night. How strange that she chose to wear it tonight.
“Other than this memorial service being almost three years too late, I’m hunky fucking dory, Nic. And how about you? How’s your conscience treating you?”
Okay, she was giving me attitude. Fine. Cruz used to get it from her all the time, and I used to play mediator.
Frankie and Cruz loved each other, but they used to fight like cats and dogs. “I’m working on it. But every day, I feel a little lighter. And I’m choosing not to feel guilty about that.”
“Good for you,” Frankie said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “He came to talk to me, you know.”
“Who?”
She snorted. “Who do you think? August.”
“Oh. I didn’t know.” It didn’t really surprise me, though. I’d done the same with Sasha. August and I had always tried to protect and defend each other.
But tonight wasn’t about August, so I steered the conversation back to the most pressing issue.
“I’m sorry, Frankie. I’m sorry for what I did to you. I’m sorry for the choices I made. I’d say it a million times if I thought it would make a difference. But I know that words don’t change anything. So I’m here for you if you ever need me. I’d love to be a part of your life again. But I’m going to leave it up to you.”
“Don’t hold your breath, Nic.”
Had I really expected anything else? Our relationship was irrevocably broken.
She turned to go, but I stopped her with my words. “I’m selling the house. It’s too big for one person and doesn’t feel like a home without Cruz. Over the next few weeks, I’ll be going through all his things. So stop by if you want anything.”
She half-turned. “You still have all his stuff?”
I nodded. “I haven’t gotten rid of anything. I still have his toothbrush in the holder. His shower gel and shampoo. His shaving cream and razor. All his tools in the garage. His home gym. I kept everything. And I kept everything exactly where he left it.”
“That’s just sad, Nic. I don’t want his shaving cream. But I might stop by and pick up some of his stuff.”
“Okay. That would be good.”
“This doesn’t make us friends,” she said quickly.
Frankie. Always so tough and fierce. But I took what little she gave me as a step in the right direction.
At the end of the evening, I sat on the beach with my best friend and her husband. The three of us toasted Cruz and drank a beer together.
It was bittersweet.
When we were leaving, I had a moment alone with Dylan when he walked me to my Jeep. “Thank you,” I said. “For everything.”
He just tipped his chin, acknowledging my words, his face solemn, and I knew…
I knew that he helped Cruz die. Because I knew Dylan. The former bad boy who never sugarcoated anything.
Sometimes he was a moody asshole. Sometimes he did the wrong things but for the right reasons. But I knew he had a big heart because I saw how he loved Scarlett. The way he worshipped the ground she walked on. The way he treated his daughters like they were the most precious gift.
When Dylan loved someone, he loved fiercely. And he’d loved Cruz. He couldn’t bear to see him suffer a minute longer.
He did it for Cruz, and he did it for me, too. And I had some idea how he did it, too. I’d left my pillow and a blanket on the chair in Cruz’s room. It didn’t hit me until later, but the pillow was gone when I returned.
How far would we go, how much would we do, and what sins would we commit in the name of love?
