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“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she grumbled. “I’ve heard it from everyone.”
“It’s admirable,” I told her. Her eyes shot up to mine. “Not everyone has something dear enough to protect so fiercely. It’s not necessarily a bad thing.”
I pushed away from the table, getting ready to leave. The floor swayed beneath my feet, my mind unbalanced with everything Frankie had just admitted.
And whether or not it was true.
“So, you’re not gonna chew me out over the other job?”
I scoffed, a little offended that she’d expected me to haul her over the coals for it. “No, Frankie,” I said, straightening the cuffs of my jacket. “Like you said, your personal time is none of my business.”
I walked toward the door, trying to come to terms with the fact that maybe, just maybe, Frankie really wasn’t interested in my money.
I pulled the door open and paused, looking back at her.
“Just remember to take care of yourself too,” I reminded her. “I don’t want to find you passed out after closing hours again.”
Chapter twenty-five
An Alternate Universe of Sorts
Frankie
“Stillonyourfeet,honey?” Vanessa said by way of greeting. I rolled my eyes. “Looks like I’m gonna win that bet.”
I frowned. “What bet?” I demanded.
“Joe thought you’d be tapped out in two weeks.” She shrugged.
“And you?”
“I know you way better than that,” she said with a wink. “So don’t let me down.”
I chuckled at the villainous waggle of her brows. “How could you hustle poor old Joe like that?” I scolded her.
“Oh, no,” she deadpanned. “Believe me when I say he had it coming. He owes me.”
“All right, I’ll take your word for it.”
“Are you doing all right, though?” she asked. “I don’t care about the bet; I want you to be healthy.”
“Fuck, do I really look that bad?” I sighed, a sad smile on my face. “Everyone keeps telling me how terrible I look.”
“Don’t be dramatic, Frankie,” Vanessa said, her voice uncharacteristically serious. “I know you too well, and I know you think working harder is the solution to just about everything.”
“I promise I’m taking care of myself, okay?”
“Mhmm, as well as your dad is taking care of himself?”
“Hey!”
“Yours is a family that lives in a glass house, and my, my, my do you love throwing stones,” she said, the implication glaringly obvious.
“And you have no filter,” I retorted, unable to come up with anything witty to say to that.
“Guilty as charged,” she sang. “Are we expecting company today?”
“You mean Hayden?”
