“We’ll probably have to go without you.”
“Ahh, I don’t know about that.” I shook my head. “You’re a bad influence, Frank Wallace.”
“I’m trying not to be.” There was no pretense in his voice. He spoke from his heart and he spoke the truth, and as much as I wanted to hate him for putting me through hell this past week, I couldn’t. There was something about him—maybe his vulnerability or maybe his efforts—that made me want to hug him and hold him close until the end of forever.
I loved him that much.
“Frank?” I reached for his hand, my gaze aimlessly roaming over the interior of the Escalade. “I think time apart is good for us.” I wasn’t sure I meant it.
“I think we’ve been apart enough.”
“Things have to change… You understand that, right?”
“Yes. I do. And I promise to work through my issues.”
“Thank you.”
He looked at me with such intensity, my cheeks started to burn. “I’ll call you later.” I slipped out of my seat. “I can’t let Ashton drive that car alone.”
“Okay.” Frank nodded.
I didn’t like how easily I’d forgiven him, but I didn’t like my life without him either.
My mother thought I was on drugs when I told her about the Z4.
“You’re joking!” she exclaimed over the phone.
“Mom, I’m not joking.”
“Well, who is this man?”
“I’ll tell you soon.” I had to. I couldn’t keep this secret from my own mother much longer, especially since Frank wasn’t being careful anymore.
Truth was, in my mind, we were back together. I simply hadn’t told him yet. He deserved to suffer just a bit more.
"Why can't you tell me now?” she insisted.
“I’ll see you in a couple of hours, Mom.”
“Did you have to get a two-seater?” I scolded Ashton as we cruised down Sunset Boulevard with the top down and Post Malone blasting on the radio.
"Sorry," he said in a singsong voice. “I wasn’t planning on driving my entire family around in this car.”
“Watch the road, Schumacher.”
“You need to chill, sis.” He laughed and turned up the volume. The shit-eating grin on his face grew wider.
December in Southern California was just as sunny as the summer months. People on the sidewalks sported shorts and tank tops. Palm trees stood tall and green. The ocean breeze was a pleasant cool against my skin as we pushed through the late afternoon traffic in West Hollywood.
Christmas decor along the streets was the only indication of winter.
The dinner went well, considering the fact that Ashton and I arrived at the restaurant in a brand new Z4. It was a tiny Japanese place that was hidden away in one of the older buildings near the busy corner of Crescent Heights and Santa Monica. We ate an obscene amount of sushi and a cotton-soft cake that literally melted on my tongue. At some point, our mother tried to get Ashton to return the car, but obviously, it was a crapshoot.
I was exhausted by the time we finally got back home. Family gatherings always wore me out, no matter how low on drama they were.
A call from Frank came in the middle of the night. I scrambled for my phone, knowing it was him before my eyes registered his name. My room came alive and my heart nearly beat out of my chest at the sound of his whiskey murmur.
“How did it go with your mother?”
“It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.” I sat up. “It’s late.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I wanted to hear your voice.”
“Well, you just did.”
His soft laugh warmed my trembling heart. “Will I see you tomorrow?”
I contemplated. “Possibly, but I have more conditions.”
“I’m listening.”
“I need you to be open with me, Frank. I’m not your enemy. I’m not out to get you and I would never wish you ill. If you really want us to work, you have to talk to me. You have to tell me what’s bothering you, because I can’t read your mind.”
“What do you want to know?”
I shivered as his words rolled through me. My gaze slid across the darkness of the room and froze on the digital clock on my nightstand that read four thirty.
“Right now, I want to know if you’re man enough to sing me a song so I can go back to sleep.” I flopped on a pillow, anticipation growing inside me.
“Is this a test?”
“Yes, it’s a test.” I giggled.
“Okay.” He paused for a second. “What would you like me to perform?” A playful lilt entered his tone.
“Well, it’s almost Christmas, so…”
“Are you in the mood for a Michael Bublé song?”
“This task is obviously meant to embarrass you, but I’m not a sadist. How about something else?”
Silence took over the line. I rolled on my side and readjusted the phone to hear Frank better. My stomach fluttered.
At first, it was just a whisper, a soft mix of sounds, a low hum. The words spun and echoed inside my head, glimmering like little stars, and they were hopeful and beautiful. Eyes closed, I let the familiar melody take over my mind and lull me to sleep.
The song was “Hallelujah” from Grace.
“I’m going to sue KBC.”
This was the first thing that Frank told me when I stepped inside his Malibu house the next day. Bag in hand, I crossed the room and halted beside the blazing Christmas tree.
“Say something, doll.” He neared me, and bittersweet warmth skated along the length of my body.
“What do you want me to say?” With a thundering heart, I glanced up at the star at the top.
“You don’t approve.” He pressed a chaste kiss to the back of my head.
I felt a rush of closeness as his hand skimmed over my waist. The fabric of the silk dress I’d picked specifically for him felt like armor. A bulletproof vest designed to prevent me from the full effect of his touch.
“I don’t think you should.” My gaze continued to inspect the decorations hung from the tree in
