by Heather Long
No wonder the girls weren’t here. Mom and I loved all of this, but Becca acted like we were killing her when the stuffed peppers came out. She would eat the stuffing in the peppers but not the peppers.
“I made banana pudding too,” Mom said as she set the pan on the stove top and then switched the oven over to broiler. I waited until the planks of bread were in before I folded my arms. Not even looking in my direction, she said, “Don’t take that attitude with me, Jacob. Go wash up and brush your hair before your girlfriend gets here.”
I made a face, but before I made a step, she patted my cheek and gave me a smile.
“It wouldn’t kill you to shave, too. Girls don’t like the burn when you get intimate.”
I cringed. God. “Mom!”
She cracked up and snapped a towel out to swat me. “I have four children, Jake, I assure you, I know what that burn feels like, and while you might not mind in the throes, it’s not always fun after.”
I was out. Fuck. The word played over and over in my mind, like it got stuck on repeat, and she laughed at me as I beat a hasty retreat to my room for a clean shirt. Nothing wrong with what I had on, but after that little performance, I didn’t hesitate to hit a quick shave.
Fuck. Me.
There was not enough brain bleach in the world to get that image out of my head.
The smell of garlic and hot bread filled our place as I checked my jaw, then I did a quick brush of the teeth. Better to have minty breath to start with, even if we both ended up tasting like garlic afterwards.
I’d just made it back to the living room when the doorbell rang. “I got it.”
“Dinner in five,” Mom answered. “So no sneaking off to test that shave.”
I groaned, but I was still laughing when I opened the door. Frankie stood there looking absolutely adorable in a pair of jeans and one of her Torched T-shirts with a jacket over her shoulder. I lifted a hand to wave to Coop, who was backing out before wrapping an arm around her and pressing a kiss to her lips.
“Hey, Baby Girl,” I murmured as I tugged her inside, even as I took her jacket from her. It wasn’t that chilly, but it might be later. Good call to bring one. Her hair fell in a pile of silky soft waves, like she’d blown it dry but hadn’t worried about straightening it. The glassy look to her eyes was gone, and she was nowhere near as flushed. With my lips pressed to her forehead, I checked her temperature. While not accurate, the fact she wasn’t burning up was a good sign. “Still feeling good?”
“Yeah, I sound worse than I am.” She sounded stuffy. “And before you get bossy, I promise, I took a nap. Coop insisted.”
I bet he did. But she curled into me, so I wrapped my arms around her and cradled her close. Yeah, Coop was right about one thing—when Frankie didn’t feel good, she got super cuddly. Never going to hear me complain about it. “All up to date on your cold meds? Don’t make me call Jeremy on you.”
She giggled against my chest, then patted me before wiggling away. “I am. Took them before I came over, and my next dose is at bedtime. So I’m good for food. I brought my appetite too.” Course, she also made a face. “Too bad I can’t smell what’s cooking, I bet it’s awesome.”
“Stuffed peppers,” Mom called as she carried the big platter out to the table.
“I can get the rest,” I told her as I draped Frankie’s jacket over one of the chairs. Mom smiled at me and patted my cheek. I stared at her, hopefully communicating ‘do not fucking bring up the intimate burn again.’
Dammit. Brain bleach.
I needed brain bleach.
She laughed at me as I headed for the kitchen. Mom was going to kill me at this rate. Death by embarrassment.
I carried out the bread and ratatouille and found Mom and Frankie still chatting in the living room. Mom had an arm around her, but Frankie didn’t look remotely embarrassed or upset.
Winning.
If anything, she was smiling.
My heart did a little high five with my ribcage. I loved that Mom and Frankie got along. There was a genuine warmth there. Hell, Frankie even liked my sisters, and I couldn’t say that three out of every seven days.
“Food,” I said. “Did you want me to get your wine, Mom?”
“Thank you, sweetheart. Frankie, we have soda, or do you want water?” Mom looked at her. “There’s iced tea in the fridge too, I think, and lemonade.”
“Ooh, lemonade sounds good.”
“On it.”
When I got back, I set out the drinks and slid into my spot next to Frankie. Technically, I could have sat across from her, but I’d rather sit where I could put an arm around her or press my leg up against hers.
“I forgot how much I loved these,” Frankie admitted as she added two of the stuffed peppers to her plate. I passed the ratatouille to her and broke up the bread, while Mom grabbed hers. After their plates were full, I grabbed some for me.
Another perk of the girls not being here—we didn’t have to share, and there was going to be more than enough for everyone to have seconds.
“I’ll make sure you have the recipe for it before you kids move,” Mom told her. “In fact, Frankie, as soon as you’re feeling better, Carly and I both want to go over some recipes and anything else you might need.”
“Hey,” I complained. “Why don’t I get the recipes?”
Mom snorted. “Because you’ll eat just about anything, Jacob. But if you want, come along. Coop too. I don’t suppose Archie and Bubba cook?”
“Ian does,” Frankie told her. “He’s got a lot of the basic stuff down. Archie’s kind of hopeless.”
I snickered. “He’s not hopeless, he just gets distracted. If you put it to him like a problem he has to solve, he’d nail it every time.” Maybe. Firm maybe. To be honest, it was good there was something he wasn’t the best at. We all needed our humbling moments.
“Well, we’ll figure it out,” Mom said. “But Carly and I still want to get you set up. Living in New York will be different from here—different weather, different demands. Have you kids decided what you’re doing with your cars once you’re in the city?”
We were most of the way through dinner before it hit me that Mom had pretty much pulled every single plan out of us for what happened after graduation, including the potential recording Bubba and Frankie were going to do over the summer before classes started in the fall. Frankie had even picked out her first round of classes, and she was only waitlisted for two of them.
Personally, I hoped she stayed on the waitlist for those two. She signed up for seven classes, and even coordinating, different degrees meant we only had core classes similarly, so we’d managed to get all five of us in three of the same classes together.
Archie and I would likely be running parallel tracks, but Bubba and Coop would be diverging, and Frankie was still undecided on her final major. She had a definitive interest in business of all things, but also in social work.
That made phenomenal amounts of sense. So, she didn’t have to lock that in first year, and she wanted to audit some classes before she made her final decisions. I had my personal bets on what she would end up doing.
It wasn’t until we’d made coffee and served up dessert that Mom brought out the big topic change. One I hadn’t been expecting when Frankie offered to start on clean-up, and before I could tell her no, Mom beat me to it.
“Not at all. I’ll take care of it later. I want to talk to you both tonight about something I wished I’d understood when your father and I got married and when we brought Klara into the relationship.”
I froze.
“Don’t look so worried, Jacob,” Mom said as she refilled her wine glass. “I promise to keep this as painless as possible.” But she flicked her attention to Frankie. “But I want both of you to understand a few things, to take from my experiences what you can, because I know how determined you all are.”
“Okay,” Frankie said slowly as she cradled her coffee cup. The stuffy nose sound was still there, but she still seemed prett
y upbeat. “How painless is this going to be?”
The teasing note even pulled a grin from me, and I pressed a kiss to her hair in thanks. “Yeah, Mom. Because trust me when I say there are some conversational topics I don’t want to have with you, and I’d really prefer you didn’t have with my girlfriend.” Case in point, see what happened in the kitchen earlier.
Swirling the wine in her glass, Mom shook her head. “Nothing like that. Let’s just say that unconventional relationships require as much care if not more than a conventional one. In a standard relationship, there are two people who each have their own hopes, dreams, likes, and dislikes. It can be a challenge to balance those competing needs and desires, even when you adore the other person. The more people you add, the more complicated it gets.”
“Fair,” Frankie responded, and when she shifted to lean against me, I curled my arm around her. “We’ve worked on that. We’re always working on that. Talking, figuring things out, being honest.”
“That’s good,” Mom told her. “That’s really good. Communication is going to save all of you. But there’s also things like jealousy. Expectations. Boundaries.”
“I think we’ve got the jealousy handled,” I told her. “Not that it won’t happen or we don’t get a little envious if someone gets a little more time than others, but I think on the whole, we all know we’re welcome.” Most of the time. Bubba was coming around, and so was Archie. To be honest, I didn’t mind that they were less inclined to share her in bed. That was fine. Coop and I didn’t want to share her all the time either.
“What about you, Frankie?” Mom focused on her, and I frowned. I wasn’t alone.
“What about me? I’m not jealous of their friendships.”
“Do you have rules or boundaries in place for if they want to see someone else too?”
“Woah,” I said before Mom went any further down that path. “We’re not seeing anyone else. We’re not going to.” I’d cut off my arm before I cheated on her. We’d hurt her enough with seeing other girls because we were stupid.
No more stupid in my future, thank you very fucking much.
“No?” Mom actually looked surprised, and if I wasn’t mistaken, pleased.
“No,” I said firmly and squeezed Frankie. “It’s us and Frankie. That’s the relationship. It’s not open to anyone else.”
“Jake,” Frankie said, and the look she gave me curbed some of my irritation that Mom would even suggest that. “It’s okay. It’s not an unfair question to ask.” Maybe not, but still… “And I’m glad your mom is comfortable enough to ask us rather than trying to guess or assuming the worst.”
“Exactly,” Mom said, leaning forward with her elbows on the table. “This is why I wanted you to all be honest with the families. We can be supportive, I intend to be supportive. But it’s important to know your boundaries, and that everyone knows them.”
“Trust me,” I promised her, “we know them, and I make sure anyone who thinks they can interfere knows them too.”
“Good. Something else to keep in mind, going to college is going to seem like you’re just extending your high school careers. You’re not. Frankie, you have been living independently for far too long, so you’re going to adjust probably with greater ease than the boys. Not that I expect their adjustment will take long with as much time as they spend at your apartment.”
I snorted. “Thanks, Mom.”
“You still technically live here, Jake,” she reminded me. “And you are quite versed in looking after yourself, but this isn’t just a ten-minute drive away. It’s moving to a huge city that you don’t know, with its own personality and culture. It’s new schedules. New jobs. New everything.”
“Except us,” Frankie told her. “We’re all old shoes. We’ll be fine. And besides, it’s kind of an adventure. NYU has a huge arts program, and yeah, will being in the city be weird? Maybe. But I can’t wait to ride the subway or the ferry. I want to go and see all the sights. Play tourist when we’re not busy. It’ll be fun.”
“All right, well then take this advice exactly as I intend it. You guys are all young, but you’re smart and you’re committed. This is fantastic. But you’re all also at the very beginning of careers and lives. You’re going to make choices sooner or later between what is good for all of you as a group and what’s good for you personally.”
Mom raised her hand before I could object.
“Just listen,” she said solemnly. “This isn’t a criticism or a judgment. It’s simply me telling you to keep talking. Even when you think it’s not a big deal, or when you think you shouldn’t ask because you don’t want to make someone feel bad. Some choices may pull you apart, not forever, but opportunities shouldn’t be ignored either. If I’d had someone tell me that before I married your dad,” she continued focusing on me, “I would have rolled my eyes. We were happy. We knew everything. We’d work it out because we loved each other. I still love him, Jake. I love him and I love Klara, but it didn’t work in the long run because we kept trying too hard to protect each other from what we wanted personally, until all that bottled up resentment turned sour and spoiled what we had.”
Frankie’s hand slipped onto my thigh and squeezed. I frowned. The open honesty in Mom’s voice promised me she believed every word. At the same time, it made me ache. If she still loved them and they broke up that…
“That’s why I’m telling you to keep that communication open. It’s so much easier to fix a small thing than it is a big one.”
Frankie tilted her head to look up at me. “I think we can do that. We’ve already learned the hard way about what happens when you let the little things go and you don’t talk about what’s bothering you.”
Wasn’t that the fucking truth? I kissed Frankie’s nose and then looked over at Mom. “Thanks, Mom.”
She smiled at both of us. “You’re very welcome, and, Frankie, one last thing. You deserve a mom who will be there at two in the morning if you ever need to vent. You can call me. I’ve got some practice with daughters. I’ll always pick up. You can even complain about my angelic son.”
“Hey,” I protested, but Frankie had already pulled away and grabbed Mom for a hug, and I couldn’t stop grinning. Hell, let her complain about me. “At least you called me angelic.”
“Yes, the only thing holding up that halo are the two little horns sticking out of your head,” Mom advised as she gave Frankie a squeeze. “Now, let’s finish our dessert, and you kids can run away to do all the things I’m not supposed to mention because Jake is scandalized by the idea I’ve ever had sex.”
Frankie frowned and looked at me. “She has four kids, of course she’s had sex.”
But the twinkling in her eyes betrayed her laughter, and I snorted. “Laugh it up.” I could take it, especially if it made her smile. We ended up hanging out with Mom for a movie after dinner, and Frankie insisted we do the clean-up, so I sent her with Mom to sit while I did it. Then I cuddled her in my lap while we watched the latest superhero flick. Mom was behind, but Frankie loved these and I didn’t mind watching them over and over.
When we finally left to head back to her apartment, Frankie couldn’t stop yawning. “That was fun.”
“Yeah?” I checked with her as I held open the door for her to climb inside. “I liked it. Mom really loves you.”
“I really love your mom. I can’t believe she did all that. It couldn’t have been comfortable.”
No, it hadn’t been. “I’m going to call my dad after your birthday,” I told her after I got into the driver’s seat. “We have to do some finagling to schedule it. He has a regular call with the girls and I don’t want to step on their time, but I also want to introduce him to you. Will you sit with me when I do it?”
“You sure you don’t want to talk to him alone first?” But she was already reaching for my hand.
“We have some bridges to build. Not sure we will be successful but…I’m willing to try. Meeting you is part of that. I mean, he’s met you obviously, but we wer
e a lot younger then.”
Frankie’s laugh filled the interior of the car. “Yes, we were.”
It wasn’t until I pulled into her apartments that she added, “If I call my dad, will you be there for that too?”
No question. “Anything you need, Baby Girl. Anything you need.”
Be Nice
“It smells like boys in here,” Rachel complained as she followed me through the living room, where the guys sprawled on sofas and chairs, game controllers in their hands. “Oh look, boys.”
“Oh look, it’s the Cactus Queen,” Jake said with a droll grin that only widened when she snorted. “Did you bring the boy toy?”
“There is no boy toy,” she huffed and shot me a look.
“Now, now, Rachel, you can tell us,” Coop told her, patting the sofa next to him. “Any bestie of Frankie’s is a bestie of ours. I’m a vault.”
Arms folded, she smirked. “I’ll tell Frankie.”
“Hey, Frankie doesn’t spill anyone’s secrets.” Archie sounded almost incensed by the suggestion that I might.
“Exactly,” Rachel said, all smug. “Now, as much fun as I have hanging out with you idiots, I came to see our girl and she’s so much better looking and smelling.”
I snickered. “Be nice.”
Ian pursed his lips. “Our girl smells great.” He winked at me. “See, nice.”
Eyes rolling, Rachel turned to me, and I folded my arms and met her stare for stare. We had been playing telephone tag and texting for the last four weeks. We barely even caught up at school, and to be honest, we’d both been swamped.
But I’d missed her.
“Fine,” she said with a huge huffing sigh and pivoted to look at the boys. They’d all paused their game and returned her stare, smirk for smirk. If I didn’t think they enjoyed antagonizing each other so much, I’d be ripping my hair out. The silence elongated, and Rachel made a groaning sound before she finally said, “Bubba, your music kicks ass. Frankie let me hear one of the demos. You got skills.”