Dorian was quiet for a moment before he spoke again. “Forgive me for asking again, but is there trouble in paradise?”
“I will not discuss this with you,” I said, trying to give off the ‘this meeting is over’ vibe that my sister excelled at.
“Maybe I should speak to Francesca myself? Unless you have a problem with me spending time with her.”
“Frankie is free to spend time with whoever she wants. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to get back to work.”
Dorian left, and I groaned, banging my head on the desk. I was a stupid, stupid idiot. The last person I wanted sniffing around my relationship with Frankie was Dorian. They were already closer than I liked and the thought of her spending any more time with him was like a hot knife to the gut. If she wasn’t here pretending to be my fiancée, I knew she would have fallen for him. He was exactly the type of guy she should be with, not someone like me, and the more time she spent with him, the more she would realize it.
Chapter 17
Francesca
I spent the rest of the morning in my suite under the guise of writing up my research notes, but in fact I was hiding. Ugh. That wasn’t who I was. I didn’t hide. I didn’t run away and I didn’t hide, except that’s exactly what I’d done. If anything, I was that person who purposely went out of their way to be seen after a breakup. I was the one who went out on the town and lived it up just to prove to everyone—and to myself—that I was fine…not that Lucas and I had broken up. You couldn’t break up when you weren’t together in the first place.
I pushed my laptop away and fell back against the pillows. I was in the bedroom, rather than sitting at the very comfortable and practical desk in the sitting room because I needed to be surrounded by the tactile softness of pillows and the fluffy quilt and the six million thread-count sheets.
What did I want? What did I really want from Lucas?
Gah! I wanted a chance with him, to see if there really was something more between us than just years-long friendship. But could I really ask him for that? Could I really ask him to put this new life on hold so we could explore the possibility of a relationship? And what would that relationship look like? I lived in Boston; he lived here now.
I was under no illusions that he would stay in Kalopsia. I know he wasn’t sure when he first came here, but I’d seen the way he’d changed. He was far more self-assured than he’d ever been in Boston, well, more than he’d ever been around his family or strangers. The man I knew, the man I’d gotten to know over the years, in private when his walls came down had just been a glimpse of the man I saw now, daily. No, he would never be like Dorian—and that was a good thing. It would be good for Dorian to be a little less self-assured—but Lucas had, and I hated saying this because it sounded so condescending, but Lucas had bloomed in Kalopsia. All the potential I’d seen in him over the years, potential hidden beneath the layers of anxiety and self-consciousness was finally rising to the surface. It looked good on him. Going back to Boston and sliding back under the thumb of his family would destroy Lucas and there was no way I wanted that to happen, even if it meant I lost him.
So that was that, then. Lucas had to stay here, and I had to go home. My heart squeezed in my chest and I swallowed down the sobs that choked my throat. I wouldn’t cry. I didn’t cry. Not over men, not over stupid research assignments, and definitely not over going home to Boston. I loved Boston. I loved my life there. Who wanted sunshine all the time and obnoxious blue skies and sparkling seas that looked like they’d been photoshopped because the ocean couldn’t possibly be that blue? I missed the hustle and bustle of Boston and the honking horns and traffic and, and, and…and I missed my mom.
I picked up my phone and dialed, not even considering the time difference between Kalopsia and home. It rang twice before my mom answered, her voice thick with sleep.
“Frankie?” she asked and I could hear the rustle of sheets.
“Oh God, I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”
“Yeah, but it’s fine. I need to get up in an hour, anyway.” There was more rustling and then I heard her murmur something to Dad before she came back on the line. “What’s up? I’ve missed you.”
I didn’t know whether it was hearing my mom’s voice or just because I was so frustrated with the entire situation, but I started to cry, the tears hot and wet on my face and the sobs burning my throat.
“You were right,” I sobbed into the phone.
“As much as I love hearing that, baby,” she said with a touch of humor, “what was I right about and why are you crying?”
I heard the clatter of her in the kitchen and I could imagine her filling the coffee machine and turning it on and it gave me such an overwhelming feeling of homesickness that my breath hitched.
“I want to come home,” I said, my voice still thick with tears.
“Have you finished your research?” she asked.
I sighed. “No, not yet.”
“Did you and Lucas have a fight?”
I groaned. “No,” I replied, looking down at the quilt and plucking at it despondently.
“But something did happen with him?” she prompted.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Mom, I fell in love with him.”
“Oh, honey, you were already in love with him before you left.”
No, I wasn’t…was I? Sure I had a crush on him, but that could hardly be classified as being ‘in love.’
“No, I wasn’t,” I replied.
Mom sighed. “You’ve been in love with him for years, baby girl. And if I’m not mistaken, he’s been in love with you just as long.”
“No, mom, we’re just friends and I might have had a crush on him, but it wasn’t love.”
Mom made a sound in her throat that seemed to convey disappointment and resignation and frustration all at once.
“Okay, so you haven’t been in love with him for years, but you are now?”
“Yes,” I replied with a rough exhale. “And I kissed him and he tried to give me the brush off and now it’s weird and awkward and I want to come home.”
“Are you sure he was giving you the brush off?” Mom asked. “Are you sure he wasn’t just being awkward and nervous? Are you sure he wasn’t trying to tell you something else?”
I thought back to earlier and the look in Lucas’ eyes and I knew, I just knew, he’d definitely been brushing me off.
“I’m sure,” I said, flopping back on my pillows and swallowing down more tears.
Mom was quiet for a moment, but I felt the weight of her thoughts. She didn’t believe me when I said Lucas wanted nothing more than just friends, but she wouldn’t push. Mom had said her piece and now she would support me in whatever decision I made.
“So what do you want to do?” Mom asked. “Do you have enough information to complete your dissertation? Can you come home and work on it from here?”
I groaned. “No. I still need to interview the king and a few more of the residents. I can’t leave yet.”
“Okay, so stay and do the work. I’m sure you can avoid Lucas if that’s what you need. Focus on your research and your interviews and in no time at all you will be on your way home.”