I want to kiss her and apologize for everything I’ve ever done wrong in my entire life.
“There he is,” Tamara says as I step back into the room. “The man of the hour. Or should I say the man of the Pinot?”
“Be careful, Tam,” Frankie says sweetly, not even glancing my way. “Hedoeshave a very splashable crotch.”
The table erupts in laughter. Rory lets out a wheeze and nearly drops her fork and Logan actually claps.
My ears burn, but I grin anyway, making my way back to my seat. “Honestly, I think that’s the first time my dick’s made this much of an impression at dinner.”
Frankie raises her glass, still not looking at me. “You’re welcome.”
I raise mine back, because two can play this game.
“Cheers, Red.”
Her eyes dart to mine as she takes a sip. “Don’t call me that.”
Everyone laughs, because they think it’s a quip. Just a little nickname and banter between a girl and guy who just met.
They’ve got no idea that’s the name I moaned once at 1:16am while she told me she wanted to bounce on my cock.
And I know I should drop it, but if calling herRedis the only way to make her look at me right now—even if it's with spiteful fucking disdain—I’ll keep doing it.
“So, Fireboy,” she says casually, stabbing a potato. “Always that chill when someone chucks wine at you? You barely even flinched... Almost like aghost.”
Tamara chokes. “Wait.Fireboy?”
Frankie nods innocently, gesturing to me with her fork. “I mean, he’s a firefighter. And a boy. What else am I supposed to call him?”
I lean in, smiling too big. “I’m all man, Red. And you could call me yours.”
Logan howls while Eli groans. Rory kicks me under the table, probably for trying it on. I don't care, I’d let Frankie insult me for hours if it meant I got to be her focus.
“Shedidthrow wine at your crotch,” Lulu says, smirking.
“I’ve had worse,” I say.
She lifts a brow. “Noted.”
For the rest of the meal, every comment she makes is edged with something sharp and clever.
Every time I speak, she flips it on me. Every time she flips it, I love her more. It’s equal parts humiliating and incredible.
She’s exactly like the girl I got to know online. The weird references. The fast wit. The soft voice that turns wicked without warning. She’s not a catfish, she’sFrankie.
The kind of woman I’d beg to take out for a drink. The kind you lose track of time with, just talking. The type you’re still hard for at 3 a.m., replaying her voice in your head. Definitely the kind you don’t ghost.
And fuck me, I did it anyway.
The doorbell rings, and Evan walks in with snow in his hair. His little girl, Elle, tugs on his hand excitedly.
“Sorry we’re late,” he says. “Elle needed to finish decorating her snowcake. Don’t ask.”
Elle’s eyes twinkle and she leans in to whisper. “It’s a cake made of snow andmagic.”
Leah gasps. “Oh my sweet girl, Ilove magic!” She stands up and offers her hand. “Come with Aunty Leah.”
“She’s so cute,” says Lulu, watching as Leah guides Elle out toward the back door.
