Page 80 of Hiding in the Outfield

“Lovely, Gen.”

Her eyes shine back at me. Then she bounces her thin brows. “If you ever decide to ink up that sexy body of yours, I know a guy.” She taps her lip. “You’d look so good tatted up, Frank. Like so good.”

“Still gay, babe.”

“Ugh. I know. But if you ever want to test the waters, I’m your girl.”

We grin at each other. Love this girl. But yeah, give me six-foot-six walls of muscle all day. Oh, and dicks. Obviously.

“Also, nice try distracting me. I know why McAsshole wants to spend all this time with you. He’s delusional, Frankie. He’s totally still hung up on you. I don’t know why, after all this time, he thinks you’ll slink back to him.”

“I would literally rather eat jarred pasta sauce.”

Her eyes go wide.

“I know. Cardinal sin, and my nonnina would come back from the grave and kill me.”

“He’s such a sleazeball. What he did to you—” She cuts off and waves a hand down her face. “Nope. Only happiness and joy here. He does not exist here.”

“Exactly.” I smile at her, and I mean it. I hate seeing him, but for some reason it feels a little easier this time. “All right. Let’s hurry up and get through this work so we can go drink awful smoothies.”

“It’s a date, boo.”

“What a lucky gal you are, having a date with a stunner like me.”

We share a smile and then get to work.

I step up to Nick’s office. A few higher-level employees have offices, including Nick. It’s a small space with an L-shaped desk and just enough room for two chairs in front of it.

I knock on the doorframe, and his head lifts from some papers he’s studying. He smiles at me. All warm and affectionate like we’re the best of friends.

I don’t smile back. “Hi, Nick.” I step into his office and drop the deck I’d printed out on his desk. His copy is resting in front of him—the papers he was studying.

“Frankie.” He nods toward the door. I close it, then settle into one of the chairs in front of his desk.

I flip to the first slide of the deck. “So, I’m assuming I’ll start us off like I usually do. I’ll introduce us both⁠—”

“Frankie.” His soft words have my gut rebelling.

“Hmm?” I don’t lift my gaze. “Did you have a different idea?”

“Frankie, look at me.”

I really, really don’t like that tone.

I begrudgingly lift my gaze to meet his. His brown eyes are filled with a concern that makes me want to throw up. Because I know how fake it is. Performative.

I finally let myself look at him—actually look. And I hate what I see. He’s still extremely attractive, maybe more so now that some silver is peppered at his temples. His black hair is neatly slicked back, very professional. He looks every inch a man in command. Something I’d craved when we first met. So pathetically desperate to have someone love and take care of me. But not any longer. Frankie is always the one in control now.

“I heard you were on medical leave.”

“Mmhmm.” I stare at him blankly.

He sighs. “Come on, Frankie. Do you know how I felt when I heard that? I had no idea what it meant. I was beside myself.”

Well, that’s interesting. If he was so beside himself, why didn’t he reach out? Not that I wanted him to, but it’s just such classic Nick.

“That must have been very hard for you.” I punctuate it with a bitchy smile, and his jaw clenches. There is no Frankie without sass.