Page 86 of Gravity of Love
There are no bodegas in Hope Falls, Frankie pointed out silently in her head as she got in. She heard his voice go smooth and professional, the way it did every time his manager called, making her smile. She loved hearing how he could flip a switch and sound like he was about to negotiate a UN treaty. She pulled down the visor and checked her lipstick.
Frankie rolled down her window and let the crisp mountain air wash over her face, breathing in the distinct scent of woodsmoke and last night’s rain. Zion reached over and flicked on the seat warmer for her. As her bestie, he knew that, although she loved cold weather, once she got cold, it was impossible for her to warm up.
As they drove into town, Frankie sat silently listening to Zee talking on the phone, just hearing his voice, his mere presence, made the atmosphere in the electric and alive in a way she hadn’trealized just how much she’d missed. His charisma fueled her, it re-energized her, it was happiness by osmosis.
She glanced out the window, and a feeling of warmth infused through her. The town of Hope Falls was golden in the morning, sunlight shining through pine trees, scattering shadows across the wooden sidewalks and mom-and-pop storefronts. It had always seemed like a make-believe place to her when she was growing up. It felt as if the town existed only in her imagination, disappearing whenever she left and reappearing only when she was present. She couldn’t explain it, but it felt like magic.
They pulled into a spot right in front of Sue Ann’s, and Zee was still on the phone. Frankie motioned that she was going to go in, and he gave her a nod of acknowledgement.
She walked into Sue Ann’s and was a little taken aback. The place was packed, every chair, booth, bench, banquette, and a patch of standing room was occupied by clusters of people—some in expensive suits and business dresses, others in sweats and beanies, all of them with plates mounded high with pancakes and fruit and, of course, Sue Ann’s famous chicken and waffles. The overall atmosphere resembled a mix of half “polished bridal brunch” and half “Thanksgiving at an airport Chili’s.” It was both a nightmare and exactly what she’d expected.
A boisterous table by the window was packed with her cousins and Yaya presiding at the head like a tiny, heavily accessorized pope, her hands mid-air as she told some story that involved elaborate hand gestures and, from the sound of it, at least one profanity. On the wall behind them was a framed poster advertising the Hometown Heroes Ball, with a picture of Hope Falls’ police chief, Eric Maguire, her friend Nikki’s older brother, looking like he’d rather be shot than auctioned off for a date. It must have been taken before he was with his wife. At the next table over, several of Frankie’s uncles were lockedin an argument about the best way to cook octopus, two were gesturing with forks, and one, Uncle Leo, was holding up a photo on his phone as though it were a Supreme Court exhibit.
Frankie scanned the room for her mom but didn’t see her right away. Instead, she noticed a group of older men in expensive golf sweaters huddled by the coffee bar, all giving off very alpha vibes. She picked out Dr. Sterling immediately from his profile alone. How could you miss him? Not only was he several inches taller than the other men, but he also had movie-star good looks. He’d been approached the past two years to be the Golden Bachelor. She would bet her entire savings account that the other three men he was speaking to were also surgeons. All three had the air of superiority and arrogance that was required for the vocation. People talked about surgeons having God complexes like it was a bad thing, but she’d rather have someone with that level of confidence cutting her open. If it were up to her, it would be a prerequisite.
She continued scanning and found her mom speaking to another group of men Frankie assumed were also doctors. She looked radiant and happy but in a nervy, high-octane way that Frankie recognized as stress. She had on her “good” white and gold dress—the one with the pearl buttons and the tiny Greek key design at the collar—and her hair was pulled back with a comb that had belonged to Yaya. She was laughing too loudly at something one of the men had said, which was a tell, when her mom really found something funny, her laugh was a quick, sharp sound, like popping bubble wrap. The “polite” laugh was more rounded, more for show.
Frankie was on her way to save her, when her mom happened to glance over and see her daughter coming. She said something to the men she was speaking to and then began to weave her way across the dining room to Frankie.
“Hey, mo?—”
“Francesca, we need to talk.”
Francesca?
Frankie barely had time to shoot Tristan a WTF look as she passed by him, to which he just shrugged, indicating he had no clue, before she was being frog-marched down the hallway, past the line of people waiting for the restroom. Her mom didn’t stop until they reached the end of the hall, which offered them a modicum of privacy.
“What’s wrong?” Frankie asked, genuinely concerned.
“Do you want to tell me anything before I say what I’m about to say?” Her mom’s voice was even, but her eyes were sharp and searching, as if she were scanning for tells on a suspect in aLaw & Orderinterrogation room.
That was a classic tactic that Cora Costas loved to use on her children. AJ never lied, ever. He was incapable of lying so it didn’t really apply to him. Niko fell for it hook, line and sinker every time. He confessed to movie hopping at eleven. Smoking at twelve. Drinking at fourteen. Driving at fifteen. And graffiti at sixteen.
Frankieneverconfessed to anything.
Still, her mind reeled through every possible thing she could be in trouble for—her license being expired (which reminded her she really needed to take care of that), quitting therapy, getting matching tattoos with Zee. None of those seemed major enough to warrant this level of intensity.
“No?” she said, hoping it was the right answer.
She studied her a moment longer, then leaned in, lowering her voice. “I know you and Tristan aren’t together.”
The relief hit so hard Frankie almost laughed. She hadn’t realized how much she’d been dreading having to keep up the charade. “Oh. Yeah. We broke up a month ago.”
“I know,” Cora said softly. “Wait, a month ago?” She sighed. “We’ll get back to that. Last night, I went down to the kitchen toget some water, and I heard Tristan talking in the basement. I thought he sounded upset, so I went down to see if he was okay. The door was open, and he was on the phone. So, I turned to leave. But then I heard something he said, and I stopped. He was assuring whoever he was talking to that you two really weren’t together. He claimed that you’d been broken up for months, six months, and you were onlypretendingto still be together to avoid upsetting me.”
Well, that was a lie, but whatever.
“Then I heard a woman’s voice saying…other things, he was on FaceTime. I almost went in and said something,” she continued. “But I decided to go speak to you first. So, I went upstairs. I was going to knock, but I heard…”
Frankie could see her mom was upset, and her relief twisted into a guilty ache. She opened her mouth, but her mom wasn’t done.
“—a man’s voice,” she finished as she shook her head, looking down. When she lifted her head and looked at Frankie again, the searching, interrogator’s stare was gone, replaced by something vulnerable and dare she say, horrified. “I was still going to knock, but then I heard—” There was a pause, too brief for most to notice but just enough for Frankie’s mortification. “—sounds. I didn’t want to intrude.”
The world went quiet. Even in the café hallway, the white noise of the packed dining room faded to a hush. Frankie’s mind frantically scrambled for safe ground. She considered bolting, getting a new identity, and living out the rest of her days as Jane Doe: The Woman Whose Mother Had Never Heard Her Having Sex. Instead, she settled for turning beet red and glancing at the ceiling trying to will herself into another dimension. She’d known, in the abstract, that her mom wasn’t naïve about her having adult relations, but this level of familiarity was a new, hellish frontier.
She’dheardher having sex with Liam. It wasn’t the end of the world, but if a meteor hit the planet now, would she be upset? No. No, she would not.
Okay, breathe, she told herself.Get your life together for five consecutive minutes.
