Lucas
It might be the raïda talking, but when I looked at Frankie, I could have sworn she looked at me like I hung the moon. It made me feel powerful. It made me feel like I was ten feet tall and invincible and I couldn’t deny I liked the feeling. Nobody and nothing made me feel that way, not even Clarissa and I had asked her to marry me.
If I was honest with myself, Frankie always made me feel more; more confident, more sure of myself, more joy, just…more. But something had changed. I couldn’t put my finger on exactly when, but coming to Kalopsia certainly made the connection between us more tangible.
And when she kissed me…I felt so many things. She’d been kissing me with more regularity and I liked it. I did. A lot. I’d never been one for public displays of affection, those were for the privacy of the home, but when Frankie held my hand or snuggled into my side and kissed me in public, I didn’t hate it.
It was all for show. I knew that intellectually, but I couldn’t actually get my body to understand that. It was part of our ruse. It was all part of the lying game we were playing. I’d started to believe the lie. I’d started to not only believe the lie, but I’d also begun to wonder if Frankie and I could actually be something real. I spent a lot of time—too much time—convincing myself it would never work…and then she went and looked at me like that.
No one had ever looked at me like that. Not even Clarissa, and if I’d believed anyone loved me romantically, it would have been her. I knew Frankie loved me, but only ever in a sisterly way. I’d never seen her like a sister and my feelings for her were a complicated mess and getting more so the longer we pretended to be engaged. The lines were blurring, and I was tempted to take a giant step across that line and make Frankie mine for real.
The thought should have made me curl into a ball with anxiety, but it didn’t. Again, it could be the raïda giving me an inflated sense of self-confidence, but I knew in my very bones that something had changed between Frankie and me. Something good. I just had to be brave enough to take that step.
I watched Frankie as she was enveloped in the circle of women. The mothers and grandmothers loved her like one of their own. I’d not expected the warm welcome we’d received, and I definitely hadn’t expected to be remembered. I was the forgettable person. I was the guy people sort of remembered as being part of the graduating class, but no one could remember my name. I was nothing special and didn’t stand out in any way. If I had the nerve, I probably would have made a great spy, that’s how totally forgettable I was.
But not to these people. These people remembered me and I remembered them. I might not remember them individually, not at first, but I remembered the feeling of being with them. The warmth of their hugs and the feeling of belonging that had sadly lacked through most of my life. Here, among these people, I was part of them and I liked the feeling it gave me.
Not only had they embraced me completely, but they had also embraced Frankie. She was accepted into the fold simply because of who she was to me. And Frankie accepted them in return. She was so open and accepting and I loved that about her. Frankie had never met a stranger. To her they were all just friends she hadn’t gotten to know yet. I envied her ability to befriend anyone and everyone, but what I felt now watching her was not envy, not even in the slightest. I felt pride. I felt overwhelming affection and love, not just for Frankie, but for the people who had gathered around us and accepted us. They’d lost everything when my family left and yet they treated me like a prodigal son, welcoming me back with open arms.
“So what do you think,” George asked me, pulling my attention away from Frankie.
“I think it needs to come with a warning label,” I replied with a grin, my fingers playing with the shot glass. “What happened to the distillery?” I asked hesitantly.
In the two weeks we’d been coming here, I’d never asked. I hadn’t wanted to know. Seeing the house had been hard enough, and I hadn’t been sure I could stand seeing the distillery in such a state.
George and the other men shared a glance and shifted uncomfortably on their stools.
“What?” I asked, my eyebrows raised in curiosity.
They shared another look before George sighed. “We’ve been sneaking in there,” he admitted, his ruddy cheeks turning a deeper shade of red. “That’s how we’ve been producing the raïda. We’ve been using the old still.”
I grinned. “That’s amazing,” I said.
George frowned at me. “You’re not angry?”
“Why would I be angry?” I asked.
“The equipment, the factory, it all belongs to your family.”
“My family abandoned it,” I said. I had what could only be explained as a light bulb moment. “I might have a proposition for you,” I said, my brain turning over all the pros and cons and possible outcomes of what I wanted to suggest. “Can you give me a few days to nail down the details?”
George looked at his friends before nodding. “You’re not going to kick us out?”
I laughed, the sound bursting from inside me with a joyous abandon that I’d never before experienced. “No, I’m not kicking you out, but,” I lifted my shot glass. “You really need work on this. I’ve had some bad raïda in my time, but this one, phew, it just about blew my head off.”
The men laughed and then poured me another shot. I knew I shouldn’t drink it, but I was feeling invincible so I shot the entire thing in one go and slammed my glass back down on the rough wooden bar. The men cheered and Frankie looked over toward me and smiled. She looked like an angel and I knew then, without a doubt, I’d well and truly tripped over the line. I’d fallen in love with my best friend.
Chapter 14
Francesca
Lucas’ arm was a heavy weight on my shoulder as I helped him from the car and into the palace. He was drunk, or at least well on the way to getting drunk. I didn’t mind, I actually found it hilarious. Despite Lucas’ quiet nature, he could hold his liquor…normally. He’d drunk me under the table on multiple occasions and I was not shy on the whole drinking front. Apart from the night he fake proposed to me, this was the most inebriated I’d seen him. Whatever the men had given him shots of earlier today, it must have been strong.
“Do you know how much I love you, Frankie?” he asked as we tripped up the stairs toward our suites.
I wanted to groan, but instead I just smiled sweetly at him. If only he was saying he was in love with me, but I knew the truth. It was easy to forget that we were just friends, especially with how close we’d been over the last few weeks. And the touching. And the kissing. Oh god, the kissing. The man could kiss. It surprised me just how well he could kiss, which probably explained why I insisted on kissing him whenever I could without it being weird. That very first kiss we shared when he fake proposed? That was the worst, but the kiss at our fake engagement party? Pretty sure he melted part of my brain with that kiss.
“I know,” I said, finally answering his question when we reached his suite door. “And I love you.”
Lucas turned to me and for a moment he looked as sober as a judge. He cupped my face, his eyes searched mine and then he lowered his head to rest against mine, our noses rubbing and our lips only millimeters apart.