Always Only You by Chloe Liese (z-lib.org).epub

didn’t you?”
I smooth my napkin, straighten my knife. A man needs a little dignity in life.
Taking my non-answer for the answer that it is, she moves on. “Do you
really want five kids?”
Glancing up, I meet her eyes, trying to trace the route of our conversation,
which isn’t always clear when Frankie and I talk. She doesn’t do all the pit stops
and detours that “typical” dialogue takes. Sometimes I need a minute to catch
up, but I find it wildly refreshing to speak so directly with her.
“It’s a ballpark,” I tell her. “I’m open to discussion. You?”
“A couple at least.”
I stare at her, finding it easy to picture her as a mom, and a good one, at that.
Playful, empathic, affectionate. I can see her sitting near the water in a comfy
beach chair, reading a book with a baby sleeping on her chest. That picture, that
moment in my mind’s eye, it’s something I want with a physical hunger.
Frankie smiles and slips her legs between mine under the table. “I think you
like me, Zenzero, conversational speed bumps and all.”
God, if she only knew how much. “I more than like you, pumpkin patch. I
love you, exactly as you are.”
She smiles and peers down at her menu again. “That’s the disturbing thing.”
After we order, we watch the sun set, and I smile as she moans and sighs
over a gourmet burger. When the server clears our plates and leaves a dessert
menu, she picks the chocolatiest confection, then sits back with a sigh in her
chair. The sea breeze sweeps her hair up and drags dark strands across her face.
Frankie deftly tugs them back and glances at me, catching me staring at her.
“Hi,” she says quietly.
I grin and stretch my legs further beneath the table, tangling with hers. “Hi.”
“This has been really nice, Ren. Thank you.”
“Good.” I lift my water in a toast to her. I’m not touching alcohol, not when
I’ll be driving her home. “Congratulations on law school, sugar plum.”
Her lips twitch as she lifts her root beer. “Thanks, pudding pop.”
The waiter clears his throat, looking like he might have gotten more than he
bargained for when he took this exclusive two-top. Frankie glances away, hiding
her smile by sipping her drink.
Accepting the check, I pull out my wallet and hand him my card. “Thanks.”
The best kind of server, our waiter simply sets the dessert right in front of
Frankie, slips one candle in it, which he lights, then silently disappears.
“Huh.” Frankie reaches for something on the middle of the table. “What’s
this?”
I watch her pick up the fortune cookie paper as if it’s in slow motion. It must