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I smiled at her honesty, even as something twisted in my chest. “Frankie, of course you didn’t want to talk to me anymore. We did something sexy and hot and intimate, and I made it seem…sleazy. You don’t have to feel bad about pulling the plug on a situation like that, even if I was just being a dipshit and put my foot in my mouth. The truth is, I’m not used to someone like you.”
“Someone like me?” she asked softly.
“Yeah . . . you’re just so open and honest, about everything. Your sexuality. Your wild, spirited personality. Your feelings for me. You put it all out there, and it’s a lot for this old guy to take,” he said, injecting a bit of humor into that last part. “But those candid traits are also the things I adore about you. It’s just going to take time for me to figure out how to navigate being with you, because I’m a little rusty when it comes to relationships, so please be patient with me . . . and my stupid blunders.”
For a long moment, Frankie said nothing. She was so quiet that in the dense silence, I wondered if she was reconsidering everything.
“I think I…have to learn,” she finally said. “How to be with you, too, that is. You’re different than anyone I’ve ever dated, and I want it to be different with you. With us.”
I understood, because I had a lot to learn, too. It had been a very long time since I’d been in a committed relationship. “What are you saying, Frankie?” I asked. “Do you want to try this for real? See how it goes?”
“I…” she started, but trailed off. I just waited patiently on the other end of the line while she collected her thoughts. Collected herself.
“I do. Yeah,” she finally said. “But you need to talk to me about everything. Tell me if something isn’t working for you. Like if the age difference, or my relationship with Marcie, is an issue. Because I’ve been crazy about you for years, Clive, and if we have a shot, I want to try. Even though it hasn’t been easy, or even if it will be even more difficult later on. I still want to see if it can work.”
I leaned back into the pillows, smiling broadly.
“Clive?” Frankie said nervously. “You still with me?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I am. One hundred percent.”
* * *
“What do you mean, you don’t think Pete is cute?” Frankie demanded. She seized the grumpy-looking cat off the pillow next to her and shoved his face in close to the camera on her laptop. “Look at this guy. Cutest cat I’ve ever seen in my goddamn life.”
I laughed and shrugged while discreetly admiring the way Frankie’s robe came loose and revealed the round curve of one of her gorgeous tits. Seeing where my gaze had roamed to, she looked down and rolled her eyes as she hiked her robe back into place, tightening the belt with firm, decisive movements.
“Sorry, I really like your breasts,” I said with an unapologetic laugh. “And if you’re going to flash me like that, you can’t get mad if I leer at them.”
She just shook her head, but the spark of humor was visible even through the video chat. “You’re, like, King Tits. I swear, I’ve never met a more dedicated boob guy.”
“Basically true,” I said with a shrug. “Although I don’t think it’s fair to say I’m not a cat guy—I love your puss—"
“Aaaaand that’s enough of that,” she interrupted.
Over the last couple of weeks, our nightly video chats had become the highlight of my day. They gave me something to look forward to every evening and kept me from working long into the night, and I got to see Frankie—usually soft and warm and ready for bed.
She was a morning person, she explained, and liked to go to bed at a reasonable hour every night. It was one of the thousand little details I was dying to learn about her. Like whether she was a remote control hog. How she ate her steak. If she was a nervous flyer. I put a moratorium on sexy video chats—for now, anyway—and instead, we had long conversations that lasted until she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Sometimes, she didn’t even make it until we ended the chat, and I would watch her for a minute or two after her eyes slid closed. Just absorbing every fine detail of her features, remembering her scent and the feel of her wild curls as they slid against my bare skin.
I loved those intimate nights learning everything about her.
And I was so fucking horny that I thought I might explode if I didn’t see her again soon.
“So you’re saying that if you and I ever live together, you would feel nothing—absolutely nothing—for this absolute gem of a cat? This prince, this perfect specimen?” she demanded, still holding Pete tightly as he glared and struggled in her tight grasp, until he finally twisted away and leaped back onto his favorite pillow next to her.
My fucking pillow, I thought with annoyance. Or at least it would be, when I finalized my impromptu trip to Seattle in a couple of days. Frankie didn’t know about that yet, though, and neither did Marcie. I wanted to surprise them both.
“He...seems nice,” I offered lamely. “Maybe we would get along great. Or maybe I could get a dog, too.”
Frankie paused, looking thoughtful. “Well, that’s a little different if you’re talking about adding a dog to the mix. I could get behind that.”
If we ever live togetherwas one of Frankie’s favorite hypotheticals. The first time she brought it up, she stopped herself, eyes wide and horrified as she struggled for an explanation. To cover her tracks. I just laughed and went with it. And for her part, she brought it up every time she had a new hypothetical to explore, like if we would be one of those couples that has a fancy smoker in the backyard. Whether I would agree to a standing desk. And her absolute ban on beer-related artwork.
The truth? I would agree to anything with her. And I wasn’t kidding when I said it didn’t bother me to talk about the future. I thought about it constantly. Wondered if it was maybe time to seriously think about packing up Minneapolis and move to Seattle full-time.
I had a new project that was going well out there. I missed my daughter and wanted to live in the same city again. And I was falling in love with a brilliant, incredible woman whose sharp edges fit perfectly with mine. A sexy, fiery woman who didn’t give up on me even when I deserved it.
And increasingly, I thought she was strong enough to know the hardest parts of my story. Losing my wife. The fallout. The toll that loneliness took on me through the years. It would be hard, but I hoped, maybe even believed that it would be worth it.
