Top all that off with the fact that it was Mother’s Day weekend, and she had an event planned at the winery. An event that she swore emphatically she was the only one that could pull off. I called bullshit, forced her to lay the fuck down, and took off for Winter’s Night.
Karleigh and Lukas were waiting when I pulled up, both looking worried and mildly anxious. I climbed from the car, opened the trunk, and pulled out the boxes of flowers Frankie had ordered me to get. Even from the couch she called all the shots.
“How is she?” Lukas asked, taking one of the boxes. His concern was irritating. Frankie may have felt that he was a great friend, that he cared for her and her well-being. But, I’m a guy. I know what he cared about. Her vagina.
“Better.” It was a simple, short, gruff response. I knew it pissed him off, and that gave me great pleasure.
“Is she going to show up here in jammies and bedhead?” Karleigh asked as we walked through the back door to enter into the kitchen area.
“I hope not.”
“You hope not?” Lukas asked, arms folded over his chest. His arms were massive bands of inked muscle. No wonder Frankie found him as a suitable fuck buddy.
“You ever been able to control Frankie Winters?” I asked noting the tick in his jaw. “Ah, I didn’t think so. She is on the couch, medicated, and has been begged to stay there. Will she? Your guess is as good as mine.”
“She’s such a pain in my ass,” Karleigh sighed, pulling roses and carnations from the boxes. I followed her into the tasting room, waiting for orders. “White twinkle lights need to go around the entire place. You start with that.”
“Start with? Fuck, that will take all damn day,” I sighed.
“Well, we open in four hours. So, get your motor going, Joker.”
I laughed as I walked to the box of lights and started hanging them.
Frankie, you’re doing this for Frankie, I reminded myself.
**
My ribs and chest hurt from the constant coughing. Not to mention I’d been near delirious from the fever. Between Karleigh and Rory, I’d been to the doctor and the pharmacy before getting back to my couch safely. Two days later, I still felt like shit.
Mother’s Day was tomorrow. My Mother’s Day event for the winery was today. I had a ton of work to do to prepare for it, and I was down and out with pneumonia. Fuck my luck in life. Thankfully, I had three able and willing bodies to help. My only problem was relinquishing control. I hated that.
Rory had been insistent that he could take care of everything. He promised the night would go off without a hitch. I hoped so. I also hoped that by Sunday, I’d start to feel a little relief. I was tired of being sick and out of commission. You can only stay in pajamas, flat out on the couch, watching Snapped reruns for so long.
I spent the day curled up into the side of the couch watching a Transformers marathon. There may have only been three movies, but it took me close to ten hours to watch them all. I kept falling asleep and having to rewind. It was worth it though. I mean, who doesn’t love Optimus Prime?
When Rory walked in, I’d been fast asleep. He woke me up with a warm kiss on the forehead before he picked up my legs, sat on the couch, and pulled them into his lap.
“Feeling better?” he asked.
“How did it go today?” I asked, attempting to sit up. He pushed me back down.
“I give you no details until you tell me how your day was.”
He leaned forward enough to slip out of his jacket. He’d worn his black The Black Keys T-shirt today. That was one of my favorites.
“I stayed here unless I needed food or the bathroom and watched a lot of Transformers,” I replied. “I didn’t spike a fever all day.”
“You still coughing a lot?” He rubbed my feet as he waited for a response.
I could get used to this. . .
“Yeah. But I think it might be getting a little better.”
He sat forward, pulled me onto his lap, and brushed my hair back from my face. His eyes moved from top to bottom, assessing everything.
“Let’s get you to bed. I asked Karleigh to set everything up at the winery for your Mother’s Day with your family. Get some rest and hopefully tomorrow you will feel even better.”
“Sleep, I feel like that is what I did all day.”
“No arguments, Bubbles.”
Rory carried me to my room, tucked me in bed, and rubbed my back until I fell asleep.
**
“You’re different, Frankie.”
I smiled at Palma as she slipped an arm around me. I knew she wasn’t talking about the death glow that came with the pneumonia. She was talking about the Frankie-post Rory. I was different. But it was a good different.
“I’m happy.”
“In love?” she asked, pulling me closer.
“Now listen, Pal, we don’t go throwing the L word around willy nilly in this establishment.”
“Does he know?” Her chocolate eyes sparkled with mischief.
“Does who know what?” Elise asked, walking up to stand next to Palma.
“Tell her,” Palma goaded.
“I’m ignoring you,” I refused to answer any questions revolving around me and love. Meantime, Elise shrugged her shoulders and left us for more intriguing company. “I’m sorry Jade couldn’t come.”
“Me too,” she replied, letting me go. “We can’t wait for Patrick to be here.”
My heart ached at the mention of my dad’s name. But we would soon have another Patrick Winters running around. Jade was due within the next month. We all looked forward to the new life joining our family.
“I am so happy for you guys,” I added, wanting to say more but my words were halted by coughing.
“Here.” Rory pressed a hand to the small of my back and offered a glass of water. I took it and drank slowly. “Better?”
I nodded in response, emptying the glass.
“Are you taking good care of my baby sister?” Palma asked, eyeing Rory speculatively.
“As much as she will allow,” he replied, taking the glass from my hands. “Why don’t you sit and relax? I’ve got everything under control.”
“Okay,” I relented, allowing him to guide me to a chair. He’d been unbelievable over the past few days. He’d been attentive and caring; calm and comforting.
“You must be a keeper,” Palma laughed, following closely. “Little Frankie has never followed a suggestion from anyone. She’s always been a bold rebel.”
“You’re lucky it’s Mother’s Day, and I’m a lady. Otherwise, you’d be getting a double bird right about now.”
“Oh, Frankfurter. You’ve never been a lady,” Palma joked. Rory laughed with her before walking back toward the kitchen. “He’s good for you. Just don’t get in over your head, okay?”
Too late for that. I’d been in over my head since the first night.
“I’ll do my best, Pal.”
I sat and watched, in a haze, while Rory served food to the table, following it closely with wine. Geno helped him, insisting on all ladies staying put. For once, I had no arguments. Oppressive illness will do that to you.
A new and all too warm feeling began to overwhelm me as I watched Rory. He was becoming a different man. He laughed freely, made simple small talk, and played with the twins endlessly. He hugged my mother, joked with my sisters, and looked comfortable. He looked like he belonged. That feeling was threatening to choke the life from me. I was more than in love with Rory. There was no turning back from it. I had even begun to accept it. He tried so hard to be a part of me, of my family. He fought to earn my trust and my heart. Maybe it was time to give it to him.
“I found a beat to hell ’67 Shelby. It’s in desperate need of some body work.” Geno talked with Rory as the rest of the ladies worked on dessert.
“Bring it by the shop. Max and I will take a look at it, give you a quote.”
“Thanks. Neve is going to kill me by the time this is all done,” Geno laughed. “I’ve done a
lot with painting and minor stuff. Our dad was always tinkering around in the garage.”
“You helped Francesca fix her truck?”
“I mostly watched while she did all the hard stuff. She’s not a big fan of allowing others to take over what’s hers.”
“No, she’s not,” Rory laughed.
“Hey, you talking about me?” I asked, placing a hand to Rory’s shoulder.
“Only about how hard headed and obnoxious you can be,” he replied, setting his hand to mine. “Are you ready to get home?”
“Soon,” I replied, fighting to keep my eyes open. “I’m going to work on cleaning up.”
“No, I don’t think so, Bubbles. Whatever isn’t done when I leave with you will be left. I’ve got a cleanup crew coming to help.”
“Cleanup crew?” I questioned.
“Yeah, I know people,” he smiled.
“Seems as though you have thought of everything.”
“I have,” he smiled up at me. I bent low, kissing his cheek, moving toward his ear.
“I’m ready to go home,” I whispered. “Maybe you can. . . take me to bed.”
I made my way around the room, offering hugs and goodbyes before Rory escorted me out of the door and into the GTO. The Foo Fighters played softly in the background as I watched the vines pass out the window.
“Thank you for today and yesterday,” I said, reaching for Rory’s hand.
“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Frankie. Not a thing.”
There wasn’t one part of me that doubted that.
Chapter 26
There are moments I start to think I might be living within a dream. Moments like today.
Ryan couldn’t reach me today. I got to live my life, enjoy some semblance of happiness. Something I’m not sure I’ve ever truly had. Frankie has much to do with that. She heals me, keeps me in the present. I’m far from perfect. But I’d like to get closer to that destination. If only to make life even better for her.
Being around Frankie’s family, seeing how they love and support her, makes me wonder if my life would be in another place if I’d had something similar. Could I have turned out more than a drunk and pill popper if my folks cared enough about me to try?
Who the fuck am I kidding? My path was forged before my life began. It made me who I am, brought me to where I am. Brought me to Frankie. Made us similar in our struggle.
It made me love her.
**
“You’re sick, Frankie.”
I pulled Rory into me by his belt loops, threaded my fingers into the wild spikes on top of his head. I may have felt like death a few days ago, but nothing would stop me from feeling him inside me tonight. Not after today.
“So?” I countered, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, fighting to suppress a cough.
“So?” he questioned, grabbing my wrists, securing them behind my back. “So, maybe I don’t want your germs. Or maybe I want you to relax and work on getting better.”
“I am better, Rory.”
A little cough escaped, and he grinned.
“Try that one again without the cough.”
“Please?” I added pushing forward. “Don’t make me beg.”
“Begging? I like the sound of that,” he groaned, pressing his lips to mine.
“Please, please, Mr. O’Neill,” I breathed. “Take me to bed, explore my body, and make me cry out beneath you.”
He smiled, peeked out at me through his eyelashes.
“You really know how to make a man feel wanted, Bubbles.”
Rory lifted me, hanging me over his shoulder as he raced toward my room. I squealed, coughed, and laughed.
“You sure you’re feeling up to this?” he asked, setting me to the floor beside the bed.
My fingers wound in the hem of my shirt, my lips twisted into a sinful grin, and I slipped the shirt over my head. Everything else disappeared soon after, leaving me chilled and breathless as I raked him over.
“Does that answer your question, Mr. O’Neill?”
“My god, you’re stunning,” he breathed, stripping out of his shirt, stalking toward me.
He pressed his lips to mine, lowered me to the bed, and I melted into the sheets.
**
I sat on the edge of the bathtub, listening to the rain falling in heavy sheets outside the window. I kept my eyes closed as I gripped tightly to the cool side of the tub, waiting for the timer to ring.
I’d never been one day late for my period. It’s been two weeks. Two weeks I’ve waited, prayed, and ignored all the possibilities. Birth control was supposed to prevent this reality for me. The timer sounded, and my eyes popped open. They landed on the white stick that rested on the counter. It waited, taunting me with my future.
I let out a long and heavy breath, crossing the short space, picking the stick up. Two pink lines.
I’m pregnant. Holy Christ.
Chapter 27
A week—seven days—it’s a relatively short time. A mere speck of dust on the map of life. But when you’re slapped in the face with life-altering news, it’s endless.
I spent a week smiling when I was crying on the inside, eating when all I wanted was to throw up, and talking and working—being overall jovial—when all I really wanted was to shut myself in a cold and dark room and hide. Fears and emotions hijacked my every hour. It sucked.
A baby—a tiny human—was growing inside my body. What the fuck was I supposed to do with that? Motherhood was a possibility I never contemplated. I hadn’t considered myself a viable prospect for such an important job. Hell, I never really wanted it. Fucking fate. Fate had other plans for me as it would seem. All it took was a little pneumonia, some antibiotics, and a night of heated passion. And voila!
I knew the challenges I’d face becoming a mother. I already had enough challenges just being a living person in the world. But I’m a firm believer that nothing worth having in life ever comes easily. Normalcy, happiness, my business, my relationship with Rory—they were all the biggest challenges of my life. They also gave me the biggest rewards. I couldn’t imagine motherhood being any different.
Seven days I harbored the secret. It ate at me every waking moment. I tried to tell Rory a hundred times in a hundred different ways. Each time, the words became lodged in my throat, or they turned to dust in my mouth. Whatever happened, they never passed my lips. But tonight would finally be the night.
I drove out to his apartment, my car loaded with wine, takeout from the Italian place in town that he loved, and candles. I had a half hour before he was supposed to leave the shop. That would give me just enough time to get inside, set up, warm up the food, and fight my counter-productive nerves. The sabotaging fuckers had been toying with me all day.
The sun was bright, the air thick and humid. It hinted that July was coming and with it were the dog days of summer that I longed for after the tedious winter. There was also that threat, just beneath the surface, that a storm could be on the horizon. The kind that brought heavy rain and loud thunder that would rattle the windows. I’ve always loved a good summer storm. They came, raged and ravaged, leaving everything clean and fresh in the aftermath.
I pulled up in front of Rory’s apartment and unloaded the car. The entire street was silent as I unlocked the door and walked in, heading straight for the kitchen. I set the bags on the table, pulled off my sunglasses, and froze. Something felt off. Something was off.
The back door was open, although kicked in was a better description. One of the chairs from the dining room table was overturned, a leg broken off. My anxiety went up to the next level as I listened closely, hearing nothing but my own breathing. I walked back toward the front door, my eyes searching along the way. There were drops of blood marking the path, leading me into the living room. As I rounded the corner, my heart sank as my feet began moving faster without much provocation from me.
“Rory!” I called, falling to my knees, rolling him onto his back. I felt for a pulse, feeling it bea
ting steadily beneath my shaking fingers. “Rory!”
His face was swollen and bloodied; his arm bent in an unnatural position. Blood caked in his hair that I pushed back from his face. I tapped his cheeks, calling his name over and over as I reached into my back pocket and grabbed my phone, calling 9-1-1. Dispatch answered and I gave them the description of the emergency as well as the address as Rory began to groan. He didn’t open his eyes; I doubted he could open the left one if he tried. They assured me an ambulance was en route, as well as a cruiser. My hands, knees, and clothes were covered in blood as I held Rory’s hand.
“What happened, Rory?” I asked, not expecting an answer, but needing to speak. I brushed away a tear that tracked down my cheek. He looked broken and pitiful.
“Frankie?” he whispered.
“I’m here, Rory,” I soothed, leaning closer.
“Leave,” he demanded. “Leave. . . before they come back.”
I looked down at him disbelieving. He had to be confused, delirious from the trauma. Maybe he had a concussion. Maybe he developed a subdural hematoma from the blunt force.
“Let them come back,” I said, straightening my back. Adrenaline spiked through my blood as I thought of the prospect. I’d protect what was mine. “You have a baseball bat?”
“Frankie, please—”
“Shut the fuck up, Rory. You have been beaten within an inch of your life. I’m not running away and leaving you vulnerable. An ambulance is on the way right along with the police.”
His breathing slowed, and he gave me no response. He’d never opened his eyes, but I assumed he passed out again. I checked his pulse again and relaxed when I felt the study bump of it against my fingers.
I stayed at his side until I heard the cry of the sirens come closer. Only then did I rise from the floor and walk to the door where I met the paramedics. I stood by the door and watched from a distance, listening to the officer talk as they assessed Rory and lifted him onto the gurney.
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