Page 104 of Love Overdose: St. Louis

“Sit down. I’ll warm your plate.”

“I can do it.”

“I know.”

She guided me toward the table and waited until I sat before moving to the refrigerator. I watched her remove a covered plate. Baked chicken, macaroni and cheese, green beans, and a piece of cornbread sat neatly beneath the foil. My name was written across the top in black marker.

“You really made me a plate.”

“I said I did.”

The microwave light moved over her face as the dish turned inside. I loosened the top button of my shirt.

“How many people came?”

“Eleven. The women who demonstrated the seated modifications came too.”

“How did they feel about the final videos?”

“They loved them.” Frankie removed the plate and carried it to the table. “One of them cried. She said she hadn’t exercised in years because every instructor made her feel like she was slowing down the class.”

Frankie placed the food in front of me, but she didn’t sit. I grabbed her hand.

“You gave her a place where she belonged. You should be proud.”

“I am.”

I brought her knuckles to my mouth. “I’m proud of you too.”

The emotion in her eyes deepened before she looked away.

“I wish you could’ve been here.”

“So do I.”

She pulled out the chair beside mine and sat. Her robe parted enough to expose one smooth thigh.

“I knew this could happen,” she said. “You warned me.”

Her honesty deserved mine.

“I considered asking Patel to find someone else.”

Frankie’s brows drew together. “Why?”

“Because I told you I would be here.”

“Would another surgeon have been able to get there in time?”

“Not one I trusted with the case.”

“Then you made the right decision.”

I looked down at our joined hands. The certainty in her answer didn’t erase the fact that I had missed something important to her. It only made me more conscious of what her understanding could cost if I relied on it too often.

“My last relationship ended this way,” I said.

Frankie’s thumb moved across my skin.