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“Your birthdate,” I found myself saying.
I wasn’t sure how I knew that, but I had.
“You didn’t choose it because it was my birthday, though,” she explained. “You already had that
as your passcode way before we even met. It was just circumstantial.”
I grinned.
“I like the background,” I said, seeing a much younger version of Frankie on the screen.
She was sticking her tongue out and making Bullwinkle ears.
Frankie laughed and made a face.
One that I captured with my camera.
“This is weird,” I said as I looked at the screen with all the other photos. “That’s the first picture I’ve taken in a while.”
“You didn’t take one with the phone you had that I’ve been texting you on before?” she asked.
I felt myself blush.
Fucking blushed.
Luckily, the scars concealed it to where it couldn’t be seen all that well.
“One,” I said. “Of you.”
She tilted her head sideways and stared at me thoughtfully.
“What was it?” she asked.
I pulled that phone out of my pocket—a shitty prepaid one that had about four minutes talk time
remaining on it—and tossed it to her.
It didn’t have a passcode.
Hell, it didn’t even have a decent camera.
That was why when she first looked at the picture when it popped up, it took her a second to
realize what she was seeing.
Then she burst out laughing.
“I was eating a hot dog, Luca!” she cried out.
I felt my composure crumble as I could no longer control it.
“It was the way you had your mouth open that did it for me…” I said.
She smacked me on the shoulder, and I winced.
The pain was bearable, though.
Anything felt bearable when Frankie was at my side.
