“He most certainly has.” I licked the milky foam of the cappuccino from my lips. “And with any luck, he’ll soon be touching me again.”
“Laugh all you want,” Presley said softly. “But when it happens, I’ll be sitting here on the sidelines, cheering you on.”
“Torre is nothing more than a challenge, and you know how much I love those.” The words sounded false even as I spoke them, and of course Press called me on my shit.
“If you believe that, you’re a fool, and that’s a word I never thought I’d call you.” I heard him breathing hard and knew he wasn’t finished, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear what he had to say. “Promise me you’ll try? Please, Frisco? Don’t skate the surface with him like you do with everyone else.”
“Is that what you think I do?” I forced out, wishing like hell I’d never called him.
“Don’t you? You make jokes or brush off my concerns. The only time you open up is when you think I’m hurting, and though I love you for that, it’s time you looked inside and practiced some self-care.”
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Before he could respond, I ended the call. I didn’t need to look inside to know there was nothing there except a yawning black hole where my heart had been ripped out, then broken into tiny pieces and scattered to the winds.
