by Lucy Score
“I’m looking to see if he stuffed the pockets with loose diamonds.”
Frankie laughed. She felt lightheaded. Was she just supposed to accept this as a gift? How could she possibly reciprocate in kind?
“Aha!” Brenda pulled her hands out of the pockets in triumph. “No diamonds, but I did find these.” She held up a sleek pair of gloves.
Of course they were cashmere lined leather.
“Oh, look! There’s a note in the box!”
Nestled in the tissue paper, Frankie snatched up the envelope before Brenda could get to it.
To keep you warm when I’m not around.
A
Holy. Shit.
“What’s it say? What’s it say?” Brenda was practically dancing from foot to foot.
Frankie cleared her throat. “It just says, ‘To keep you warm,’” she fibbed.
Brenda squealed. “This is so exciting! Our Frankie lands a jillionaire!”
Raul poked his head out of his office door. “How’s the workshop setup going?” he asked, eyeing them with suspicion.
“Great,” Brenda said sweetly. “And thank you for asking!”
“I’d better go set up,” Frankie said, reluctantly sliding out of the coat.
“You go ahead. I’m just going to pet your coat for a few minutes.”
Frankie put the coffee on in the kitchenette and then headed up the narrow staircase to the second floor. In the conference room, she turned up the thermostat and set out the notebooks and pens. And then flopped down in one of the chairs. She pulled out her phone.
Frankie: Where did you find a Burberry coat before 9 a.m. on a Tuesday?
He answered immediately and she guessed he must have been waiting for her to text.
Aiden: You’re welcome. I told you. Anything you want.
But she hadn’t asked for it. Gifts like this? A coat that cost at least a grand and probably more? There was no way in hell she could keep up with him on this side of their relationship.
Aiden: Do you like it?
She hadn’t thanked him, and that made her rude in addition to being poor. They have to talk about this side of things. That she wasn’t comfortable being the beneficiary of his deep pockets. But for now a little gratitude was due.
Frankie: It’s stunning. I want to say I can’t accept it. But I think my boss just threw my old one in the trash can with the coffee grounds. Thank you for thinking of me.
Aiden: I have a feeling I’ll be doing a lot of that.
Chapter Thirty
“You’re bringing your young man to lunch on Sunday, aren’t you?”
Frankie’s mother had caught her between work and class on exam night, guaranteeing the highest amount of stress.
“Ma! He’s forty. We’re having sex, not going to junior prom!”
“Even better. He’ll be wanting to settle down and give his mother-in-law a half-dozen grand babies.”
“Do you torture Marco and Rachel like this? They’re actually pregnant,” she pointed out.
“If I have to listen to my smug sister tell me one more time how smart Baby Nicky is or how she couldn’t wait to spend the day taking little Sebastian to the park, I’m going to set her on fire.”
May Baranski was never just a tiny bit dramatic.
“I don’t know if he can come, Ma,” Frankie sighed, running up the front steps of the building. It was the only class she had to physically be on campus for. The rest were online, thank God. So once a week she schlepped her ass downtown for Corporate Social Responsibility.
She started for the stairs.
“Well, you won’t know until you ask him,” May sniffed.
“Fine. I’ll ask him.”
“Good. We’ll see you both on Sunday.” Her mother hung up, and Frankie cursed family and its complications.
She was five minutes early. And rather than reviewing her notes one more time like she should have, she opened her texts.
Aiden: Good luck tonight.
How had he remembered that she had an exam? With as packed as she presumed his calendar to be, the fact that he was storing little personal details about her both delighted and unsettled her.
Frankie: Thanks. You’re going to need some luck now. You’ve been summoned to Baranski Sunday Lunch. You can say no. It’s loud, cramped quarters. People yell a lot. I can tell her you’re busy buying a country or something.
When he didn’t respond immediately, Frankie silenced her phone and stowed it in her bag. It was for the best if he didn’t go. It would be a mistake to take him to her parents’. Her mother would start building castles in the sky and “finally” planning her “only daughter’s wedding.” And when it ended, when she and Aiden went their separate ways, May would be more devastated than either of them. Plus, she didn’t want to complicate things. And that’s exactly what family usually did.
They were doing a good job of keeping it uncomplicated. They’d had dinner and (phenomenal) sex on Tuesday and had been texting off and on since then. See? Minus the expensive coat and gloves she loved so much that she wore them watching TV in her icebox of an apartment, they were basically a Tinder hookup.
That, she could handle.
Professor Neblanski shuffled into class clutching a latte and dumped his briefcase on his desk. “All right, let’s get this over with.”
--------
Frankie hated to admit it, but she was disappointed that she didn’t get to see Aiden Friday or Saturday. Friday night, she already had plans to go out with friends, hitting a new wine bar in Clinton Hill. Saturday Aiden spent half the day in the office and the other half juggling rich guy responsibilities. Something about a fundraiser appearance and a dinner with clients. Now, she was curled up on her couch with Netflix reruns on in the background and her thesis draft in her lap, ignoring both in favor of thinking about Aiden.
What they lacked in physical attention, they made up for in texting. Frankie was delighted to find that Aiden was funny over text.
Aiden: Dinner companion just mentioned having his hands full of wood. Exactly how am I supposed to respond? (Full disclosure: client owns several lumber mills).
Aiden: I was going to stop by your place tonight and surprise you, but Brooklyn.
Aiden: I’ve been disappointed by every single sandwich since the one your brother made.
And then there was tonight’s message.
Aiden: Preparing for lunch tomorrow. What’s the best way to take your mother’s attention off of Gio and the fresh widow? Should we tell her we’re adopting a child or that our sex tape was leaked?
Frankie laughed out loud at that one. She fired off a response.
Frankie: When is the last time you met a girl’s parents?
Aiden: I meet most of them.
Frankie didn’t care for that particular tidbit. It certainly didn’t make a girl feel special.
Aiden: However, I’m feeling a lot more pressure having heard about your mother. What’s the best way to win her over? Asking for a friend.
Frankie laughed again. She started to text back and then threw caution to the wind and dialed his number.
“Franchesca.” He answered the phone sounding both smoldery and delighted.
She felt like a damn teenager talking to her crush on the phone.
“Hello,” she said, wondering why she called him. Now they had to make conversation. “Are you really worried about meeting my mother? Because you should be. She’s terrifying.”
“You underestimate my charm,” Aiden insisted.
Frankie laughed. “You underestimate my mother’s lack of sanity. She’s going to ask you about weddings and babies.”
“And what should I tell her?”
Frankie flopped back on the couch cushion. “Well, she already knows that we’re having sex, which she thinks makes me a diabolical genius for hooking you on sex and then tempting you to put a ring on it.”
Aiden laughed softly.
“You don’t have to go, Aide,” she reminded him. She was more nervous about him meeting her parents than any legitimate boyfriend she’d had since high school.
“I’d like to go.”
“I can’t imagine why. They’re messy and loud and nosy, and you’re guaranteed to leave with a headache and probably a buzz and indigestion. My mom will keep refilling your plate while my dad keeps the booze flowing.”
“Are you trying to talk me out of it? Because never-ending food and alcohol are doing the exact opposite.”
“It’s just not going to be what you’re used to.”
“Franchesca, just because I haven’t experienced something yet doesn’t mean I’m not going to like it. But if you don’t want me to go, say the word. Anything you want.”
She paused, chewed on her lip. “Come. Meet my crazy family.”
“I’ll be there. Besides, someone has to save Gio from the widow.”
“You’re awfully loyal to my brother.”
“The man made me a sandwich that I’m still fantasizing about.”
“Just wait ‘til I make you a sandwich. You’ll forget all about Gio and his wilted lettuce and soggy bread.”
“A sandwich artist, too? Is there nothing you don’t do?” Aiden teased.
Was he taking a dig at her blue-collar roots? Sandwich maker and catering help?
“Well, if you wouldn’t be so busy making all that money, you could learn to make yourself an acceptable sandwich,” she said lightly.
“How was your week?” he asked, changing the subject suddenly.
“It was… good.”
“What did you do?” he asked.
“Why?” Frankie laughed.
“I’m interested in you,” he said dryly. “Tell me about your week. How did your exam go?”
So she told him, and he listened. She couldn’t get a read on him. It was as if he were treating this as a real relationship. Something she couldn’t afford to do. Get used to late night calls with the gravel-voiced Aiden Kilbourn? Then what exactly would she do when those calls stopped?
It played on an endless loop in the back of her mind. Even as she enjoyed the conversation, the banter, the interest.
Chapter Thirty-One
Frankie glanced out the front window of her parents’ house for the ninth time in two minutes.
“Someone’s waiting for her boy-friend,” her brother Marco sang in an annoying falsetto.
“Shut up, Marco,” his wife and Frankie’s new best friend, Rachel, snapped.
“Babe, don’t yell. The doc says it’s not good for the baby,” Marco said, rubbing his hand over her rounded stomach.
“Oh, hang on there, buddy. Why don’t you just stop doing things that require getting yelled at for?” Rachel was her brother’s match in everything… including volume.
“Both of you stop yelling so I can hear Drew.” Frankie’s father was a short and stocky man whose favorite place to be was ass-first in his recliner with the volume cranked on the TV. He DVR-ed The Price is Right all week long and binge watched it every Sunday. “For shit’s sake, two dollars? Whatsa matter, lady, you never do your own shopping?” he demanded in disgust.
“Ma! When are we eating?” Gio called from the back of the house where he was probably sneaking scraps in the kitchen.
“When Frankie’s boyfriend gets here! Get your hands off of that roast!” May Baranski had the gift of sight when it came to the goings on in her children’s bedrooms and her kitchen. The first time Frankie had snuck a boy into her room, May had suddenly needed to “borrow” a sweater from her teenage daughter and had scared the shit out of the guy in her closet.
“Is that him?” May threw herself at the couch in front of the window and peered through the window.
Frankie’s family didn’t go to church, but her mother still believed in Sunday best and was wearing her very best elastic waist slacks and turtleneck purchased from JC Penney in 1989.
The car that pulled to a stop was worth more than the house they were in. It had to be him. Her phone dinged, and Frankie dove for it.
Aiden: I’m here. Is it safe to come in?
“Is it him?” May was clamoring over the couch to get a better view. The woman did aquacise classes three times a week at the YMCA and was in better physical shape than most of the rest of them combined.
Frankie: I’ll be right out to escort you in. Did you bring any security with you? My ma is humping the couch trying to get a better look at you. I’m not sure if I can hold her back.
Frankie dropped her phone on the coffee table and dashed out the front door and down the two steps from the cement stoop. Aiden got out of the car looking good enough to eat in charcoal gray slacks and a burgundy sweater. Her mother would think he dressed up to meet them and give him bonus points. Frankie didn’t want to admit it, but she’d changed twice, matched her bra to her underwear again, and applied work day makeup.
She met him on the skinny concrete walk that led up to the house and stopped short. Every single family member, minus her father, would be plastered to the front window. She wanted to kiss him, but she didn’t want to give them a show.
Sensing her hesitation, Aiden gave her a smile. “If you shake my hand it’s just going to make them talk more.”
“I’m just going to go ahead and apologize now. Because this was a huge mistake, and I’m so sorry I got you into it.”
“Relax, Franchesca. We’re going to lunch, not war.”
She snorted. “Shows what you know. In this neighborhood, they’re usually the same thing.”
“I’m going to kiss you,” he warned her. “And then we’re going to go inside and have lunch. And then I’m going to take you home and fuck you.”
The thrill rushed over her as he reached for her.
“Fine, but no tongue. You know my pants fall off when you do that.”
He was grinning at her with something like joy. He laid a very chaste kiss on her mouth before pulling back.
“How was that?”
“My pants still want to fall off. Let’s get in your car and drive away and jump straight to the sex,” she suggested.
“After,” he promised. “We’ve got business to attend to first.” He held up the flowers and wine.
“Jesus, Aide. You didn’t bring a thousand-dollar bottle of wine, did you?” Frankie was appalled. The flowers were no grocery store impulse buy either. White lilies and glossy green holly leaves. Ugh. Her mother would love them.
“Relax. I went to a store and paid a respectable price.”
“It better be under a hundred dollars.”
“If I tell you it was, will you please let me in the house?”
She sighed and straightened her shoulders. “Just remember, I gave you the opportunity to run away.”
She led the way inside through the rusting storm door that hit Aiden in the ass when she stopped suddenly because every member of her family was crowding around the twelve slate tiles that acted as the home’s foyer. Geez, why hadn’t she noticed the dust bunnies on the floor trim? And when had the coat closet door started peeling?
“Oh, great. You’re all lurking like turkey vultures. Everybody, this is Aiden. Aiden, this is everybody.”
“Aiden, it’s so nice to meet you,” Frankie’s mom crooned as if she were meeting Frankie Fucking Valli.
Her father grunted and looked over his shoulder at Drew Carey’s face, his version of a “pleasure to meet you.”
“Hey, nice to meet you, man,” Marco said, offering a hand. “This is my girl, Rach.”
“Wife actually and future mother to his child,” Rachel said pointing at her belly.
Aiden shook all the appropriate hands and greeted them more warmly than Frankie thought they deserved.
“Hey, good to see you again, Aide,” Gio said, pulling Aiden in for one of those one-armed buddy hugs.
“Again?” True to form, May latched onto that statement with a talon.
“You’ve already met.”
“Yeah,” Gio shrugged. “He was at Frankie’s apartment last week.”
“And you didn’t think to mention it?” May’s voice was accelerating into dog whistle range. She cuffed Gio upside the head.
“Ouch! Ma! I sent you the picture of them!”
“I forgot! I’m sorry!” She smacked him again.
Aiden looked on in what Frankie hoped was amusement. Her mother was a few cards shy of a full deck.
“Can we please, for the love of God, act like regular people for one afternoon?” Frankie screeched. She turned to Aiden. “I wish I could say they don’t usually act like this. But this is the family that got permanently banned from an Applebee’s on Atlantic Avenue.”
Aiden squeezed her shoulder and stepped in. “Mrs. Baranski, thank you for inviting me to join you today.” He wielded the flowers and wine like they were a shield that would keep the little Italian woman at bay.
“Oh, my! What a gentleman,” May sighed in approval. “So very nice. Why don’t you boys ever bring your mother flowers?” she asked, admiring the lilies and managing to lay a guilt trip at the same time.
Gio and Marco spouted excuses that earned them both a cuff to the back of the head.
“Mr. Baranski,” Aiden began, “Gio brought some sandwiches to Franchesca’s this week. He said they came from your deli. Best sandwich I’ve ever had.”
Hugo puffed out his chest in pride. “It’s all in the meat. You’ve got good taste in sandwiches. You’re okay by me.” He immediately returned his attention to the TV.
Frankie rolled her eyes. “Welcome to the sixth circle of hell,” she whispered.
Aiden winked. “Wait until you meet my family.”