Nessa winced. “You think that kid who came by is going to keep his mouth shut?”
“No,” Franklin said bluntly. “I’m sure everyone in the department knows by now.”
“Is that going to cause trouble for you?” she asked.
Franklin finished buttoning his shirt and leaned down to look her in the eye. “I couldn’t care less,” he said, and planted a kiss on her lips.
Nessa had sent her girls back to school the morning after the girl in blue’s funeral. As grateful as she’d been to have them there by her side, Mattauk was not a safe place for young women. She didn’t put her worries into words. Breanna and Jordan were technically adults, but Nessa still did her best to shield them from the ugliness of the world.
When she dropped them off at the train, she’d made them promise to stay safe. Stick together, she told them. Trust your gut and don’t take any chances. It was the same warning she always gave the twins, and given the grim ceremony they’d attended the day before, they seemed to take it a bit more seriously. But nowhere near as seriously as Nessa would have liked.
“We know why you’re sending us away so quickly,” Jordan said. “You want to spend some alone time with Franklin Rees.”
“Excuse me?” Nessa feigned outrage and both her girls cracked up.
“Yeah, we saw him looking at you. Like a big dog drooling over a thick, juicy steak,” Breanna teased.
Nessa felt her cheeks catch fire, and she fanned herself with her hand.
“He’s smoking hot for an old man,” Jordan said. “Good work, Mama.”
“I don’t know where y’all get your ideas,” Nessa tutted. “Did you two ever stop to consider that I might be the dog and he might be the piece of meat?”
It was such a relief to hear her girls laughing. She’d worried about how Breanna and Jordan might feel when they learned there was a new man in her life. But the thought hadn’t seemed to cause either daughter a moment’s unease.
“I like him,” Breanna told her mother. “I’m happy for you.”
“Me too,” Jordan said. “It’s about time you got some action.”
“I’ll have you know I have not gotten any action.” At that point, it was the truth. Even in Nessa’s prim and proper world, two stolen kisses did not count as action.
“Yet,” said Jordan, and the two girls burst out laughing again.
“Look at her face!” Breanna cackled.
“You two been hanging out with Harriett?” Nessa demanded.
They put on their sweetest, most innocent expressions. “What makes you think that?” Breanna asked.
“But seriously, Mama, we’re glad,” Jordan said. “This is some scary business you’ve gotten yourself into. We’re happy you’ve got someone to take care of you.”
At the time, the phrase had annoyed her. Nessa had been on her own for almost ten years. She’d guided her children to adulthood and helped her parents pass on to the afterlife. She’d done it all by herself, and she’d done a damn good job of it. She didn’t need anyone to take care of her. And yet that afternoon, when Franklin drove her home from Furious Fitness, she’d looked up at her house and realized she didn’t want to be alone anymore.
There was plenty of food left over from the funeral, so after Nessa saw her girls off, she invited him in. It was almost midnight by the time they finally shared a dish of warmed-up mac and cheese.
Now Nessa watched Franklin as he sat on the bed and tied his shoes. His movements were measured, always perfectly precise. His shirt showed no sign of spending the night on the floor. The bows on his shoes could have set a new standard. It wasn’t until he looked back and winked at her that she was able to believe this was the same man who’d been on top of her, or under her, or behind her all night. In the dark, she’d had nothing to distract her. The subject of babies never passed through her brain. She didn’t once wonder if it might lead to marriage. What they’d done had felt natural, animal, elemental. Harriett was right: sex did get better with age.