“I missed you so much, Frankie.”
“It’s been two days.”
“So?” I tuck my face into her hair. It still smells like whatever oil she uses that makes me dizzy.
I close my eyes.
This is what I wanted when I called her. Not noise. Not celebration. Not cameras.
This.
Her hand slides up my chest slowly and we settle. My body starts to relax in a way it hasn’t since the match ended.
Then—
“We gotta talk.”
I groan into her shoulder. “Tomorrow.”
“No. Now.”
I open one eye.
She’s not smiling.
“Okay,” I say, already bracing.
Her fingers press into my ribs like she needs something to hold onto.
“We can’t see each other anymore.”
I exhale through my nose. “I saw that coming.”
Her head jerks back slightly. “No you didn’t.”
“Please.” I glance toward the door. “All that shit you did for me? The most obvious ‘I’m done with you’ I’ve ever seen.”
“It was not!”
“You even baked me break-up fucking cookies.”
Her mouth drops. “Why are you so negative? They could’ve been celebration cookies.”
“Goodnight, Frankie.”
“I’m being serious, Jabari. We’re done.”
That one lacked confidence.
“Francine, go to sleep.”
She pushes against my chest. “Hi, Hello. I’m in the middle of breaking up with you so if you could take me seriously I’d appreciate it.”
“It’s hard to,” I mutter, tightening my arm around her, “when you’re cuddled up next to me like this.”
“It’s cold in here.”
“It’s not.”
