“Hey,” I paused on the next slice of apple. “Anything else youneedto tell me?” I didn’t ask her about wanting. If she wanted to tell me something, she did. Somewhere between pricks and dicks, we’d gone past the social niceties. It had taken Frankie more time than me, but she got there.
“I just miss you too,” she admitted in a little rush and then let out a weepy little laugh. “And I promised myself I wouldn’t put that on you. But… we’re always missing each other. I swear, between my bouncing time zones and your bouncing work schedule, I feel like one of those old screen savers where balls bounce over the screen leaving wild trails.”
“I love you too,” I said, unwilling to tell her that distance was somethingIneeded right now. Because that was absolutelynother fault.
She snorted. “But do you miss me?”
“What do you want?” I asked, already smiling, because I knew an open negotiation tactic when I heard one.
“Who says I want anything?” Oh, that was way too innocent and she muffled the phone to cover whatever she said to someone else before she came back. “Okay, I have three more minutes, then we really need to do sound checks.”
“Then you have three minutes to tell me what you want.”
A sniff, like she was not happy about the suggested accusation. I crunched more apple and waited.
Finally, a huff. “Will you do some shots to help us design a new album cover?”
It was my turn to blink. “Yes,” I answered immediately, I didn’t even have to think about it. Then I frowned even as she squealed a little. “Why was that hard to ask?”
“Because you’re busy,” Frankie admitted with a hint of guilt. “I didn’t want to pile on.”
“Okay, A, don’t be a ditz. I love you and love helping you. If you decided tonotask me that would have probably hurt more than if I had to say no I couldn’t squeeze you in.” I clicked my tongue against my teeth in a tsking sound. “B, unless your schedule is you need it in an hour, I will find a way to make it work.”
I paused a beat.
“You don’t need it in an hour do you?”
Frankie burst out laughing. “No, and if you’re willing to do it, then we’re more than willing to wait for however long it takes. Period. I’d much rather work with you than anyone else.”
“Same,” I promised her. “Send me all the details you have and how much creativity I get.” Before we could get caught up, I said, “And your three minutes are up.”
“It is—love you. I’ll email you everything!”
After we hung up, I sat there for a while, thinking about love. Love that waited. Love that made room. Love that didn’t demand proof on a timeline.
Later, I texted Dominic. We’d returned to our regularly scheduled delayed messages and responses. His London trip had been postponed by three weeks, but he messaged two days earlier to say he was definitely on for this upcoming week.
Me:
I checked my calendar. Nothing on the schedule. Can’t guarantee René won’t blindside me again, but I will do my best to make the time for you.
His reply came almost immediately.
Dominic:
That’s enough. I just want to see you.
That scared me.
Not because I didn’t want him—but because I did, and I wasn’t sure how to fit him into a life that was already stretched taut.
Still.
I looked around my apartment. The new pillows adding splashes of color to the sofa—a gift from Alix that she’d found randomly in a shop. The stack of CDs and vinyls on the side next to the player I’d found in between shoots at a street vendor. The ceramic cactus that the guys had sent to celebrate me starting at the Sorbonne. The new black and white prints on the wall. The window that caught the light just right in the afternoons.
I wanted to show him this version of me.
Even if I was tired.
