Chapter Twenty-Nine
Vivian
“Don’t say ‘Um.’ He hates that. Good eye contact. Except let him initiate it. He hates it if you get too cocky?—”
“Frankie, stop.” I put my phone down. I was trying to take notes, but this is too much. And my heart isn’t in it. I can’t stop thinking about Jonah.
Frankie has a fabulous apartment. It’s an open-concept layout with two spacious bedrooms and three palm trees in the backyard.
When she suggested we meet here to prepare, I suspected ulterior motives. I could definitely see myself living here. Not just the apartment, but the city. The thing I can’t see myself doing? Living here without Jonah.
She throws herself on the couch next to me with a dramatic sigh and lets her body go limp—she calls it the wet noodle—before placing her head in my lap so she can stare up at me.
“Frankie—”
“I’m just going to lie here and wallow with you.”
“I’m not wallowing.”
She looks at me from her upside-down angle. And it’s clear she doesn’t believe me.
“I’m not. I hate that I disappointed Jonah. Hurt him.”
“Why’d you lie in the first place?”
I don’t want to do this. Talk about Jonah. Or my feelings about him. I run my fingers through Frankie’s hair. It’s long and luxurious and, damn, I appreciate someone who takes such good care of herself. It’s also relaxing.
She blinks her big doe eyes. It makes her look innocent. She’s not. “Are you in love with him?”
I let go of her hair. “Frankie?—”
“Nope. None of that.” She sits up. “Your interview is in less than an hour. And your concentration is shit.”
“So?”
“So…” She waves her hands around. “Start talking.”
“Fine. I think I’m in love with him.”
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” She rolls her hand in a keep-going motion.
“And I think he loves me, but what if he can’t commit? His mother did a number on him—and yes, it’s a little weird that I’m the one talking about commitment. My dad definitely—” I throw my hands out. “Now you have me doing it.”
She smirks like she’s proud of herself and pats my cheek—the non-injured one. “Sweetie, that boy is madly in love with you.”
“You can’t know that.”
She gently cups my face. “He emptied his savings account to buy a truck for you. So you could get here for your interview.”
“What? No, he didn’t.” Did he?
“He did. And he was saving that money for an apartment. His roommates don’t sound very nice. He wants to move out.”
I pull her hands down and study her face. “That can’t be true.”
“That’s what he told me. Why would he lie?”
“I don’t know. Why would he tell you?”
