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What about Xavier?
Kate’s voice in my head sounded a tone of reason.
What about Xavier? My absent boyfriend? Baby daddy? Duke friend? We loved each other, yes, but I still didn’t know what to call him. Tonight, the way I was feeling, I didn’t even know what I meant to him anymore.
He said Sofia would never want, and I believed that, but was I supposed to come crawling to him every time I needed help with a phone bill or preschool tuition? Was I supposed to continue chipping away at my sense of dignity and self-reliance until there was nothing left at all?
I could never seem to get out of this situation. I could never seem to stop depending on the whims of others to support me.
I hated it so, so much.
“Con-congratulations to you both,” I said hurriedly, already feeling the hot rush of tears threatening. I looked away, not wanting them to see my expression.
“Thanks, Frankie. But I also wanted to tell you—”
“We’ll talk soon,” I interrupted him, swallowing back sobs that already threatened. “Tomorrow, I’ll have Sofia call so you can tell her yourself. Love you! Congrats to you and Nina.”
“But Frankie—”
“Love you, bye,” I rushed and ended the call before he could answer. I swiped at my face, where tears were already streaking downward.
One month. That’s all I had. One month to figure out my life before Matthew left New York and gave up on me for good.
They were getting married. And yes, it was a rush, but what I heard in my brother’s voice was something more than just a crazy whim. It was the same thing he’d had every time he’d talked about Nina and their future. Love. Conviction. He knew what he wanted with her. He’d always known what he wanted from the second he saw her in that damn bar over a year ago. One look, and he’d seen their entire future and had pursued it endlessly until every sizeable obstacle was out of their path.
I was happy for them. I really was.
But I was terrified, too. More than that. At that moment, envy stabbed me with such violent thrusts, I genuinely thought it might tear me apart.
NINETEEN
Bang.
The sunlight streaming through the drapes was at just the right angle to feel like a bullet to the brain. I rolled over in the plush covers of my third-floor bedroom at Parkvale, only to wince as the pressure in my head pierced the other side.
Ow. Yeah.
My head was throbbing.
“Jesus,” I muttered as I rolled onto my other side, away from the firing range. “Frankie, you freaking lush. How much did you drink?”
“I lost count after your third champagne.”
Xavier’s deep voice perked me up, but only just. I stared at the wall, at the ornate white wainscoting that bordered blue silk wallpaper. The question wasn’t whether he was correct. It was whether I was imagining his voice, too.
My conscience had a funny way of sounding like everyone else but me.
I rolled back over, scooting out of the sun’s glare, then opened one eye to find the man himself sitting on a velvet-upholstered chair next to the bed, knees wide while he balanced a bouquet of lovely pink roses on them.
“She lives,” Xavier said softly with a wry smile. He held out the flowers, ragged stems wrapped with a flour sack and a ribbon.
I took the flowers shyly, holding the sheet to my chest when I realized I was wearing nothing more than my underwear. Apparently, I’d just stripped down and hopped right into bed last night without a care about who might find me.
“Thank you,” I said as I pressed the roses to my face.
They were fragrant and sweet—the perfect thing to chase away a hangover. I wondered if he had picked them directly from the garden himself. The idea warmed me, even if it was unlikely.
“Did you ever come to bed?” I wondered, noticing that he was still wearing his tuxedo pants and white shirt from last night.
