“Well. Just on a cinnamon roll run. I barely spoke with you at the Cup Day party. How have you been?”
“Oh, fine. Busy. Trying to load up my stable of clients. All that jazz.”
Franky stared at me with those all-seeing eyes. “And Thad? How’s he?”
Had Jason spilled about Thad’s imminent proposal or worse, my secret marriage?
“He’s fine. He’s in Dubai for work.” I could have—should have—told him about Alexei before he left, but Nazarov’s arrival at the Cup Day party had thrown me. Thad had placed the players on a pedestal and I worried how the news might bruise his ego. “He’s gone for a week.”
“That should give you the time you need.”
“Oh? For what?”
She smiled serenely. “To go on that date with your husband.”
Shit.
We took a seat at a table in the back. I kept my eye on the door in case anyone I knew came in, though me having coffee with one of my book club gals, the partner of my oldest pal, and a semi-close friend shouldn’t be considered weird. Yet I was jumpy, probably because of the conversational subject matter.
“What do you know?”
Franky took a sip of her Jasmine tea. “You, Nazarov, marriage, blackmail. The story has it all.”
I put my face in my hands.
“I’m sorry, Lo. I don’t mean to make fun, and if he’s threatening you in some way, then I’m happy to intervene or get Jason involved.”
I removed my hands. “He’s not threatening me. Well, he’s threatening to tell Thad, so I suppose he is. But to be fair, I don’t think he’d do it. It’s just the Russian’s version of banter. How did you find out?”
“The baby monitor. I was having a lie down in my room because I needed a break from the hordes. I shouldn’t have listened.”
It meant that Jason hadn’t blabbed which was no small thing, I supposed.
“So you got the gist.”
“The bare facts. Are you comfortable telling me what happened?” She nudged her cinnamon roll over an inch, a curiously endearing gesture. “And just so you know, this will remain between us unless I feel that your health or mental well-being are in danger.”
God, I loved Franky. She was so damn serious, but she was also a grown-up. Working with so many younger athletes—jocks of all ages, to be fair—I sometimes forgot what it was like to associate with mature and responsible adults.
“So Alexei and I go way back. College. But I’m guessing you know that. We had a very brief thing, that was over in a flash. Left things kind of awkward. We’ve run into each other over the years, but I’ve done my best to ignore him. There’s always been this residual tension between us.” I was rambling.
“Sexual?”
“Well, I think he’s hot. That’s something I can say, objectively.”
“And subjectively?”
I broke off a piece of the cinnamon roll and put it in my mouth while I considered a response. “Like I said, there’s always been this frisson of tension between us. Sexual, if you prefer.” I moved on quickly. “But emotionally, we haven’t been on the same wavelength. He basically told me back in the day that we would be better off as friends. And we haven’t talked since.”
Franky eyed me. “Yet here you are. Married.”
I tutted, annoyed all over again. “About nine months ago, I was meeting a client in Vegas. Nazarov and I ran into each other at the hotel and suddenly it was easy between us, easier than it had been in years. We didn’t address anything deep, yet it felt like forgiveness. Like we had matured enough to be able to acknowledge we were kids back then and mistakes were made. We went for a walk down the Strip. More drinks, more talking. It was great. I mean, really nice. And then we got married.”
Franky’s eyes went wide. “Just like that?”
I filled her in on the pertinent details.
Franky bit her lip. “Then you met Thad.”
