“What will G.R. say if he hears about this?” Storm worried. Frankie lowered her phone and frowned.
“It doesn’t matter. He’s already made the deal. He can’t go back now.”
Frankie grinned.
“You guys get out of here. I’ll wait and tell the ambulance I found her like this when I showed up for lunch.”
“I don’t want to leave you here alone.”
She caught my hand and smiled. “I’ll be fine. See you at home.”
Home.
I liked the sound of that.
Chapter Fifty-Two
“Marilyn Monroe - (June 1, 1926 - August 5, 1962) was an American actress, singer, and model.”
Frankie
3 days later…
We had one perfect day. One perfect day of freedom and happiness.
Then I started worrying.
When I woke up and reached for him, he wasn’t there. I sat up, pushing the hair out of my eyes, and called out his name. I thought he was in the kitchen, making coffee, or would come bounding in from the bathroom.
He didn’t.
I wandered through the apartment, noting he wasn’t there.
The familiar ache from the day in Scotland tried to make an appearance. I shut it down. I wasn’t going to go there. I knew he wouldn’t leave me. Not after everything. Not even the parts of him that made up Charming could ever make him leave.
Still, something was off.
He was gone already today and yesterday… yesterday he’d been gone most of the day as well. When he returned home (looking mighty lickable in those jeans he wore so well), he acted like everything was fine. He grabbed me up and kissed me senseless, almost making me forget to ask where he’d been.
But I didn’t forget.
I asked.
He was shady.
And now he was gone again.
I really thought the honeymoon period of my happily ever after would last a little longer.
I decided to give him hell when he got home. But in order to properly give a man hell, a lady had to make sure she looked hot. Hot as inyou better watch it because if you don’t treat me right someone else willkind of hot. My heart would never belong to another man, not even if Olly never came back today, but he didn’t need to know all my secrets.
I rushed into the bathroom and took a hot shower. I shaved, I exfoliated, and I did things to my body a man would never even dream of doing to his. Then I lotioned and potioned and styled until I stepped out of the bathroom in a way that if I walked down the street, every man would turn his head. Some would probably even follow.
And then I waited.
I heard the key in the door not too much later, and I smiled, sitting sideways in the armchair with my legs flung over the side and an open magazine in front of my face.
When he walked in, I flipped down one corner and looked at him. “Oh, hey,” I said casually.
