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Maggie pressed her lips together and looked at him. Frank raised his eyebrows but said nothing.
Michael laughed. “What dude has told you this?”
Tess grimaced. “This isn’t about a guy. I’m just wondering.”
“Hell, yeah, you’re difficult,” Frank, Jr. said, jabbing a fork at her. “You always have been. Remember when she was teething, Ma? And we couldn’t get her to stop biting everything? She bit the poor dog every time we turned around.”
“And when she decided she was going to be a chef and made us those terrible cookies and brownies every day?” Michael made a face. “That kick lasted for months.”
“Or when it came to her spelling?” Joseph smiled, joining in on the fun. “Or putting sunscreen on her? Or how about when she had to take medicine?”
“She’s just like Granny B,” Michael concluded, lifting a finger in the classic eureka pose.
Frank watched the aggravation gather on his daughter’s face. She never should have asked her brothers if she was difficult. New tears gathered in her eyes.
“I’m not like Granny B, Michael,” Tess said, not huffy like she’d usually get, but rather resigned.
“Yeah, you are,” Frank Jr. said, with an emphatic nod. “You might be worse. You’ve still got a lot of years left on you.”
“Hush,” Maggie intoned. Laurie and Beth also shot looks toward their husbands.
Frank looked down at his daughter. “Tess?”
This time she didn’t ignore him. “Yeah?”
“You’re worth the trouble, baby. Always have been.” His words caused Tess to burst into tears.
Michael pulled away from his sister as if she were a loathsome cockroach, shooting his dad a funny expression. “Why’d you go and do that for? We haven’t even gotten to dessert yet.”
For the first time in weeks, Frank felt a lightness bloom within him. He looked at his baby girl crying into her napkin and knew her anger had abated. Something in the way she’d looked at him had told him all he needed to know. Tess had forgiven him for his transgression. She’d seen things from his side of the table and had accepted in some small way that his view was valid.
Didn’t mean things were healed between them.
But he could wait.
Didn’t have a lot of time left in this world, but for the moment it was enough.
TESSWALKEDINTOher loft feeling as if she’d been washed twice and hung out to dry. Limp as a noodle, her conscience cleaner, she sank onto her couch and looked around the silent room. She’d tidied the place that morning, picking up the gold dress she’d flung on the chair the night before, scooping up the sandals tossed capriciously onto her fluffy area rug. Her cleaning service had come Friday and the apartment smelled clean. Everything in its place.
But it was lonely.
Picking herself up, she opened the fridge. Maybe she’d make supper. She closed the door. Or not.
Emptiness stared back at her when she spun around.
Her fingers seemed to reach for her phone as if they weren’t even attached to her brain. Scrolling through her contacts, she found him.
Graham Naquin.
Her finger hovered over his number before she sighed and tossed the phone onto the counter.
A booty call? Really, sister, it’s come to that?
So she wanted him? So she’d dreamed about him all last night? So she’d regretted not finding an immediate exit so she could get busy with him in the parking lot?
Did that mean she had to call him and—
The sound of the buzzer interrupted her personal lambasting. Probably Gigi coming over to chat her up about the amazing guy she’d hooked up with the night before. She’d seen drunken pics on Snapchat earlier. Or it could be food delivery or—
