That comes out softer than I intended.
Frankie hears it anyway. “Oh no.”
“What?”
“You like him.”
I say nothing. Which is apparently enough.
“Oh, Zee.”
“I know.”
“No, I mean I really, really need you to hear yourself right now.”
“I do hear myself.”
“Then why are you talking like the man with guns and bodyguards and mystery hit squads is just misunderstood?”
I flinch. “That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?”
I don’t answer right away. I know fairness is not the problem.
The problem is that I know exactly what she’s asking. Whether I’m seeing him clearly or through some warped lens of chemistryand adrenaline and the fact that he makes me feel things I have no defense against.
And the truth is, I don’t know.
I only know that when I’m with him, the fear and the desire and the curiosity all braid together into something impossible to separate.
I look out at the ocean and just state the truth. “I don’t know what this is.”
Frankie’s voice softens then, just enough. “Okay.”
“I mean it. I don’t know where this is going. I’ve known him for two weeks. He’s older than me. He’s my boss. He wants a wife, not…” I trail off. “And I saw him with a ring last night.”
There’s a beat.
“A ring.”
“Yes.”
“In his hand.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t ask.”
I rub my forehead. “I was distracted.”
“That’s one word for it.”
I let out a breath that could almost be a laugh. Then I say, much more quietly, “What if I’m making a huge mistake?”
Frankie is silent for a moment before answering. “Then you make sure it’s your mistake,” she says. “Not one he decided for you.”
I look back at the villa behind me. The wide glass doors. The white stone. The life that feels temporary and dangerous and intoxicating.
