Sunset In Central Park (15 page)

And now the nerves were back because she had no idea what happened next.

Her rulebook for relationships didn’t look like other people’s.

Did she invite him in for coffee?

Did she say good-night at the door?

She worried all the way back and the worry intensified as they crossed the Brooklyn Bridge, the lights shimmering across the gunmetal surface of the East River.

She paid the cab driver and walked to the door to her apartment, wishing she could calm the feelings in the pit of her stomach.

Hand shaking, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her keys. “Tonight was fun.”

She was as jumpy as a kangaroo on a trampoline.

Matt reached out his hand and her heart danced in an excited rhythm. This time he was definitely going to kiss her. The chemistry was so powerful, even she could feel it and she waited, hardly daring to breathe, wanting it desperately
and yet at the same time terrified because she knew that once he kissed her that would be it.
He’d know.
Anticipation danced across her nerve endings, sending a thousand volts of electricity through her body.

Her eyes started to close. She swayed and then felt his fingers brush against hers as he took the keys from her and opened the door to her apartment.

“Good night, Frankie.” His voice came from close to her ear, rough, male and thickened with intimacy. He was close enough that she could see the rough texture of the stubble that shadowed his jaw.

“Matt—”

“Sleep well.”

She opened her eyes and stared into his.

Sleep well? That was all he was going to say?

He’d been racking up the tension all night, and he wasn’t going to kiss her?

Damn it, if he wasn’t going to kiss her then she’d kiss him. They needed to get it out of the way once and for all. She reached out to haul him toward her, but her hand closed over thin air. And he didn’t notice because he was already walking away from her.

This, she thought dizzily as she stared after his retreating back, was why she avoided relationships.

She would never in a million years understand men.

F
rustrated and unsettled, Frankie closed the door of her apartment. She was too wound up to sleep. Her mind was full of thoughts that were too uncomfortable to examine closely. Thoughts about getting naked with Matt. Hot, sweaty thoughts.
Exciting thoughts.

Crap.

The date had been nothing like she’d expected it to be. She’d thought it would go the way all her dates went—a few awkward hours together where the conversation didn’t quite gel—the verbal equivalent of bumping noses when you kissed. Instead, it had been relaxed and fun. Matt had made it fun.

Central Park. Why had no one thought to take her on a date there before?

The answer was obvious. Because no one knew her as
well as Matt did. It was always restaurants or a movie. And all her relationships collapsed long before the moment when her date might have realized that being outdoors was her favorite thing.

As far as she was concerned, there had been only one real thing wrong with the evening.

He hadn’t kissed her.

On the other hand if he
had
kissed her, it would have ruined the evening. Knowing that she wasn’t going to sleep, she decided that she might as well return Eva’s purse.

It took a while for her friend to answer and when she finally opened the door, Frankie backed away in shock.

“What happened to your
face
? If you’re auditioning for a horror movie the part is yours.”

“It’s a face mask, Frankie. It’s supposed to make me beautiful.”

“I hate to break this to you, but they lied. You should have read the small print.”

Eva smiled and the mask started to crack. “How was your date? I mean dinner,” she corrected herself quickly. “Dinner. I know it wasn’t a date.”

“It was—” how could she describe it? It had been magical, exciting,
terrifying
“—it was different.”

“Different ‘good’, or different ‘get me out of here’?”

“Good.”

“Where did he take you?”

“Central Park. We walked, we talked and then we had dinner.”

“Was it stressful?”

“It was pretty much perfect.” Apart from the point when he’d invited her to Puffin Island, but she was trying not to think about that.
And he hadn’t kissed her.

Dammit, why hadn’t he kissed her?

“Thanks for the loan of the purse. I’ll have the tunic cleaned.” Distracted, Frankie handed over the purse and took a closer look at Eva’s face. “Did you get some of that stuff in your eyes? They look bloodshot.”

“Oh!” Eva lifted her fingers to her cheek, flustered. “Maybe. Clumsy me. Do you want to come in? We could hang out for a while and open a bottle of wine.” She opened the door wider but Frankie shook her head.

She was about to ask where Paige was and then remembered that she was with Jake. Which meant Eva was on her own with plenty of time to brood.
How could she have forgotten that?
“Paige is staying with Jake tonight. Are you going to be all right?”

“Of course! I’m enjoying a quiet night in on my own. I’d forgotten how good it feels to do that once in a while. I’m going to rinse this thing off my face and settle down with popcorn and Netflix.”

“What are you going to watch?”

“I don’t know. Something you would never watch in a million years. There will be kissing. And happy endings. We both know romantic movies are your idea of hell. See you tomorrow!”

The door closed between them and Frankie returned to her apartment, wondering why she felt uneasy.

Eva was an adult. If she’d wanted company she would have said so.

She took a shower and settled down with her book but for once the words, even those written by Lucas Blade, didn’t hold her attention. She kept thinking about Matt and mingled in there was concern for her friend.

Eva had said she was fine, but what if she wasn’t?

If Paige had been home, she wouldn’t have worried. Paige was so much better than Frankie was at delivering emotional support when it was needed. Not that Frankie considered herself a bad friend because she didn’t. She was rock-solid, loyal and deeply caring in her own way, but she was the first to admit that in an emotional crisis, she wasn’t good. An excess of emotions unnerved her. It always had. Whether she’d been born that way or whether it had been created on the blustery seas of her parents’ divorce she didn’t know, but whenever emotions were intense she wanted to slide into a dark hole and hide until the storm passed. She felt inept and useless.

But tonight there was no Paige, which meant that Eva was on her own.

The thought nagged at her, preventing her from relaxing.

She reached for her phone, wondering if she should text her friend, but then put it down again.

What good would that do? She’d say “Are you okay?” and Eva would reply “Yes. You?”

She was probably deep into a romantic movie.

Impatient with herself, Frankie tried to read her book but she couldn’t focus. Ten minutes later she glanced at the clock.

What if Eva wasn’t watching anything?

What if she’d poked herself in the eye again trying to remove the face mask? Her eyes had been red and—

“Crap.” Frankie sprang off the sofa so fast the book thudded to the floor. Eva’s eyes hadn’t been red because of the mask. They were red because she’d been crying.

Moments later she was hammering on Eva’s door.

This time it took longer for Eva to answer. The face mask was gone but her eyes were still red. “What’s wrong?”

Frankie wanted to say that nothing was wrong with her, but stopped herself. Eva was selfless and giving and was unlikely to put her own needs first. “You invited me in.”

“You hate romantic movies.”

“We can talk. I feel like talking.”

“What about?”

“Stuff—” Frankie floundered. “Problems,” she said vaguely and Eva looked confused.

“You hate talking about your problems. You bottle them up, boil, simmer, kick things around the room. Then you attack them like Boudicca repelling an invading army.”

“Yeah, well, tonight I’m trying a new approach.” Frankie shoved her way through the door and saw Eva’s clothes strewn over every available surface in a rainbow of pastel colors and sparkle. “Oh my—were you burgled?”

“No.”

“Someone emptied out your drawers.”

“That was me. I was looking for my peach silk scarf.”

“Did you find it?” Frankie eyed the piles of clothes, knowing she’d never find anything in that mess. How did one person ever get to wear all of that?

“I think Paige might have borrowed it.”

“And you criticize my clothes.”

“The clothes themselves, not the way you store them.”

“You appear to be using the floor as storage. Do you want help sorting through this stuff? We could hold a yard sale and give the proceeds to damaged cats or something.”

“I’m doing enough for damaged cats by tolerating Claws despite her temper issues, and anyway, everything you see
here has importance and meaning. I don’t want to get rid of any of it. There isn’t a single piece here I don’t love.”

“Seriously? What about this—” Frankie snatched up a green knitted sweater. “I’ve never seen you wear it.”

“Gran knitted that.” Eva’s eyes filled and she plopped down onto the sofa, ignoring the pile of clothes. “Sorry. Ignore me.”

“I’m the one who should be saying sorry.” Horrified, Frankie folded the sweater carefully and sat down next to Eva. “Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. I’m clumsy and stupid and Paige will kill me for upsetting you.”

“It’s not you, it’s me. This happens. And it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. What can I do? Do you need a glass of water? A hug?” Frankie patted Eva’s shoulder awkwardly and felt a rush of frustration. Why was she so hopeless in these situations? “Talk to me, Ev.”

“It’s just a bad moment, that’s all. It will pass. I’ll get through it. I’m using you as my role model.”

“Me?”

“Yes. You and Paige are the strongest people I know. You’ve both handled serious crap in your lives and carried on. I’m trying to be more like you and less marshmallow.”

“You don’t want to be like me. I’m a mess.” Frankie pulled at a peach scarf that was half-hidden under one of the cushions. “Is this what you were looking for?”

“Yes! And I think you’re amazing.” Eva blew her nose. “You’re so independent. So strong and together. You’re inspiring and brave.”

Frankie thought of the way she’d responded to Matt’s suggestion that she go with him to Puffin Island.

You’d have to drug me and tie me to the plane.

“I’m not brave, Ev. And I love the marshmallow side of you. Don’t ever change.”

Her friend’s words made her feel like a fraud.

She knew she wasn’t an inspiration for anyone. If she was strong and together would she really be so afraid to go back to Puffin Island? Would she really be so terrified of taking the leap with Matt?

“I want to change the way I am. I’m tired of feeling bad. Any tips greatly received.” Eva reached for another tissue. “If you want to help, you can distract me. Tell me about your evening with Matt. You said it was perfect.”

“We walked in Central Park. We talked. We had dinner. It involved food and conversation.”

“But it wasn’t a date.”

“No. It definitely wasn’t a date.”

“So there were no romantic moments?” Eva seemed so disappointed Frankie was tempted to make one up just to see her friend smile.

“He did grab my hand a couple of times.”

Eva brightened. “Truly?”

“Probably to stop me running off.”

“Why would you run off?”

“He mentioned Puffin Island. He wants me to go back for a weekend with him.” She toed off her shoes and curled up on the sofa next to Eva. “He’s combining a job with a friend’s wedding.” Knowing that Eva would ask, she added the name. “Ryan Cooper.”

“I know him. He’s hot.”

“He’s also off the market because he’s marrying his very pregnant girlfriend, Emily, in a romantic beach wedding.”

Eva looked dreamily across the room. “I would
love
to style a beach wedding. And you’re invited? Lucky you. This
is what I mean about you being an inspiration. Most people who’d been through what you’ve been through would be too scared to go back, and you’re scared, too, but you’re doing it, anyway.”

Frankie opened her mouth. There was no
way
she was going back. “In fact, I’m not—”

“Don’t waste your breath telling me you’re not brave, because you are. I know you’re scared, but doing something even though it scares you is the definition of brave.”

“Yes, but I’m not—”

“You
are
! You are brave. And I’m going to remember that every time I hit a rough patch thinking about Gran. It’s hard, but I’m going to get through it. I feel better already.” She scrunched up the tissue she’d been using. “I’m glad you’re going back. I’ve never said anything before but I was worried about you staying away. And there are so many wonderful things about the island.”

Oh hell, how was she going to extract herself from this?

Frankie’s throat was so dry she felt as if she’d swallowed sand. “Name one.”

“The smell of salt and sea. That feeling you get when you walk on the cliffs and you stare into infinity and realize how big the world is and how small you are. The wind in your hair, the seagulls, small children with big smiles and melting ice creams.”

Frankie felt a tug deep inside her, a yearning for something long forgotten. “I miss those things, too.”

“And then there are the wonderfully quirky people.”

“Those, I don’t miss.”

“The other day I read about a man who had died in his apartment in Harlem. No one discovered his body for five
weeks.
Five weeks.
That would never happen on Puffin Island.”

“True, and they wouldn’t need a post mortem because they’d already know why he died.”

“I know.” Eva slid the scarf through her fingers. “That’s one of the brilliant things about the place. I love New York. I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else, but I do wonder what it would be like living here if I didn’t have you, Paige, Matt and Jake. I’d be horribly lonely.”

“You do have us. We’re a community right here. You don’t need to be on an island to be part of a community, Eva. You just need to reach out to people, and you do that naturally. I don’t know what’s going to happen in our lives—none of us do—but I do know you’ll never be lonely. You’re like a lightbulb. People are always drawn to you because you brighten their day.”

Eva’s eyes filled. “That’s possibly the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

Frankie grabbed the box of tissues. “I’ve made you cry again.”

“But in a good way.”

“Is there a good way to cry?”

“Of course there is. Don’t you ever cry?”

“No. I have a heart of stone.”

Eva blew her nose. “Frankie, you have so much heart it’s bursting out of you.”

“That sounds messy. Not that anyone is going to notice in this apartment of yours. You’d better clean up before Paige comes back or she’ll freak.” Frankie flopped back against the sofa, wondering how to extract herself from this misunderstanding. “A wedding on Puffin Island is the perfect combination of all the things I hate in life.”

“I know. But you’re going, anyway. You’re incredible. And I’m sure no one is going to mention the past. It’s been ten years. Paige told me you bumped into your mother last week. Was that difficult?”

“Horrible. I can’t believe I’m saying this because we both know I’m not the biggest supporter of team Happy-Ever-After but I actually wish she’d meet someone she cares about. None of her relationships ever stick.”

Eva wrapped the scarf around her neck. “If she were a saucepan, she’d be Teflon coated.”

Frankie laughed. “That’s my mother. Nonstick.”

“Love is complicated.”

“You can say that again. And that’s why some people prefer to avoid it altogether. I’m one of them.”

“That’s not true. Take tonight—you’re up here with me when you’d rather be on your own. That’s love. Not romantic love maybe, but still love.”