Page 128 of Rules, Roses, and Rivals
Mom opened the door to glance in at me. She was far more disheveled than I was used to seeing her. Dressed in a long-sleeved button-down shirt and little else, she gave me a sleepy grin. “Good morning, baby.”
For the second time that morning, my heart stopped and then began to sink wrapped in chains of dread. Who was this woman and what had she done with my mother?
“I’m glad you’re up. We got in really late last night and I didn’t want to wake you. But get dressed. We’re going to take you out to breakfast.”
“I have to work—” The response was almost automatic but it came out in a croaky voice.
“Call out sick.”
“What?”
She huffed out a dramatic sigh. “Call out sick, you never call out. This is important.”
“Mom,” I began, trying to search for the words.
“No,” she said, holding up one finger. “Francesca, I ask you for very little. You will do this for me, because it’s important and we have a lot to talk about. So call out, and get dressed. We’re leaving in twenty minutes.”
With that, she blew me a kiss and left the room.
If I called out, I was stuck with Mom and—wait, she saidwe. Who the hell waswe?Gravity seemed to double the force it exerted over my chest.
We.
Fuck.
I pushed off the bed and got dressed. I braided my hair rather than try to tame any of it. Then I called Marsha and as soon as she answered, I apologized. “I know it’s short notice, and I’d rather go to work but?—”
“You sound terrible,” Marsha said, her concern soaking me through with guilt. “Take the rest of the weekend sweetheart.”
The manager was probably one of the nicest people I knew.
“I’ll try to be there tomorrow.” Missing one day was bad enough.
“No, you’ll take it easy. You have a heavy course load. I don’t want to see you before Wednesday. If you’re still feeling rocky, just let me know. You have too much to do to be sick.”
She wouldn’t take no for an answer. The whole time I was on the phone, the notifications kept coming in. Every short, sharp, and insistent buzz seemed to rattle in my bones before I heard it.
Off the phone, I went to disable the notifications because there were just too many. There were also messages from the guys. I needed to answer them.
Rachel’s name popped up on the screen. She was calling. I declined and let it go to voicemail. I just couldn’t yet.
“Come on, Frankie!” Mom called. “You’re going to make us late.”
How could you be late to a date you didn’t even plan? But I kept the comment to myself as I headed out to the living room phone in hand. “I just need to?—”
Mom had chosen a playfully ruffled sundress in green and some strappy sandals. She’d traded in her earlier disheveled appearance for something more elegant and yet relaxed. It wasn’t her, however, that stopped me dead. It was the man she stood next to, with her hand on his arm.
“Mr. Standish?” I said slowly. Archie’s dad. I’d met him a few times. He and Archie looked so much alike at times, it was eerie, but where Archie always seemed warm, funny, and witty, his dad was far colder and remote.
“Frankie,” he said, his expression softening from the icy distance he usually wore. “You don’t have to be so formal with me.”
“Eddie’s right,” Mom said, sliding her arm firmly through his.
Eddie?
My stomach did an agonizing flip-flop as my gaze slid back and forth between them. A lot of little pieces were starting to make more sense. Mom’s constant late nights and long “working” weeks away. She was in the middle of an affair.
It was hardly her first.
But this was…
“You know, I was going to wait until breakfast, but I think we’ve all waited so long that I don’t want to wait anymore.”
My mouth was suddenly dry. “Wait for what?”
“To introduce you to your father,” Mom said, her smile so brilliant it bordered on blinding.
The dizzying spiral of the world threatened to suck me down into a vortex. A hot, icy sensation raced over me. “What?”
Happiness radiating off of her in a way I’d never seen it, Mom beamed. “Eddie is your father, Frankie.”
