Christmas in Coconut Creek (Dirty Delta, #1)(82)
“Vanessa didn’t stick around when he needed her to,” Nat said.
“Surgeries, recovery, physical therapy, all of it. He needed her and she didn’t step up to the plate. When the going got tough, she got going down to fucking Fayetteville to find someone to dangle shiny things in front of her again. Spoiled bitch.”
Normally I’d be averse to name calling but…spoiled fucking bitch.
“They were two complete opposite sides of a coin." Mateo continued. "Pike saw her through rose-colored glasses, and he still does. He still faults himself for her leaving and stepping out on him. He thinks if he was home more, if he had asked her to marry him before we deployed, if he’d pulled himself out of the depressive episode after the accident, that would have fixed everything. But he doesn’t see what we do.”
I pulled my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around myself in what felt like the closest thing to a hug. My understanding of Frankie waxed and waned with every passing hour. I was on a boat that was sinking, without a raft, and the worst part was that I was the one letting the water in. I was becoming obsessed with knowing him, learning him, being a part of his life, getting too involved. Finding out about his ex only made me want him more. Because he was so deserving of everything he ever dreamed of having in life that it overwhelmed my own self-preservation.
It made me think about Colorado. How good we could be for each other if we ever had the chance to make something real out of this. How much of each other we still had to discover.
Mateo’s explanation of what had happened with Vanessa only added several pieces to an already intricate and still unsolved puzzle. I was saving those bits of curved, edged information instead of trying to shove them into place, confident patience would prosper and every missing jigsaw was something I had yet to experience. Perfectly incomplete.
As if his ears were ringing, we all looked down at my phone buzzing to life on the table with Frankie’s name etched across the screen. Tell Cap he’s not out of the woods for keeping secrets for my mom.
I laughed quietly, a brazen smile taking over the moroseness.
“He says you’re in trouble,” I relayed across the table.
Mateo chuckled, pulling Nat into his side and rubbing away an invisible chill down her arm. “That’s my favorite place to be.”
The Christmas tree sparkled wistfully behind them in the living room, raindrops of light sprinkling down onto the gifts waiting to be opened underneath. The reflection of the three of us sitting there played off the uncovered windows where night blackened the world outside and turned us kaleidoscopic.
Ophelia: This isn’t very friends with benefits of me, but I kind of miss you
As eagerly as it was sent, another message returned.
Frankie <3: This isn’t very friends with benefits of me either, but I told my mom about you, too
27
Christmas Eves growing up were spent in quiet solitude or utter chaos. My dad was somewhat estranged from his family from the moment he married my mom, and the grandparents I had on my mother’s side moved south when I was old enough to start school. I saw them in the summer on a trip to Arizona every year, but when the holidays came around we remained a family of three.
As a teenager, every other Christmas I got one parent or the other, and then one set of siblings or the other, and the least magical morning you could ever imagine, spent holding an industrial-sized garbage bag open for all the younger siblings’ torn bits of sparkly wrapping paper.
In adulthood I was the “can you grab an extra bag of ice” or “I forgot to pick up cookies to leave out for Santa” daughter, and the twenty-fourth of December made me feel like the stretched-thin elf of your worst nightmare.
A far and insignificant memory compared to being guided through a restaurant by a possessive palm on the small of my back. Wrapped like a present with a bow cinching me together at the waist of my velvet green mini dress, complete with high heels, black sheer stockings, golden bangles, tiered hoop earrings, and lips red like pomegranate.
The air tasted expensive, an aroma of charred meats and spices carrying us through the dimly lit and festive dining room. Dark, wooden booths were decorated tastefully in fir branches and brambles. Pinecones and needles weaved in and out of floor-to-ceiling pillars, and the chandeliers hung low enough their light just brushed the tables.
Mateo and Natalia sat and I felt a tug on my waist, Frankie’s fingers digging into the soft skin above my hip enough to have me falling back against his chest. His chin dipped to rest on my shoulder briefly, lips grazing the shell of my ear.
“You look unreal, you know that?”
I released too shaky a breath to play off, and his smile widened against my skin. Every touch had been charged since our fleeting hello as Natalia and I had filed into the backseat of Mateo’s car when they picked us up. While we drove, he reached an arm back to clasp his warm fingers around my ankle.
I felt a massive, anticipatory weight on my body—but instead of hurting me, it amplified everything to an acute degree. Every emotion felt unapologetic, graceful touches became godless, an innocent look ignited something hotter, like wick to flame. Something had changed in the two days since I’d last seen Frankie. Whether that be the way we viewed our arrangement, or the way he viewed his future after visiting his family—the urgency between us was heralding.