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Frances
The drive back with Paul was quiet. He didn’t speak much and I was grateful for it. When he pulled into my driveway, however, he broke his silence. “I like you, Frances,” he said.
I smiled to soften the harshness of my words. “You just met me yesterday.”
He grinned back. “I only needed a few minutes to know that I liked you.” He shifted in his seat and raised my hand to intertwine with his. “And I’d like the opportunity to get to know you better.”
His offer flattered me and I was tempted to try a date with him—he was friendly—but I just couldn’t say the words. “You seem like a nice guy,” I began.
“Oh, god, don’t say that.” He laughed. “Don’t say you just want to be friends.”
I sighed but tried to smile again. “I won’t say it then. But things are complicated for me right now and I don’t want to add to it.”
“I would be just another complication, then?”
I nodded.
“Okay, how about you give me your number and we stay in touch? No pressure, just want to say hello from time to time.”
I was about to turn him down but reconsidered. Maybe I wasn’t thinking properly at that moment and would regret closing the door to Paul later. “Sure,” I said instead. I held out my hand and he rummaged in his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone so we could exchange numbers.
“There,” I said, passing the phone back to him. He stared at it for a minute and then looked up through blonde eyelashes. “I’m glad you came this weekend. I hope we can do it again sometime.”
“Thanks, Paul.” I opened the car door but popped my head back in. “I’ll see you around.”
I watched him pull back onto the road and drive off.
When I opened the front door, a familiar scene greeted me. Sunday afternoons were my favorite. My entire family was home and after eating a large Sunday lunch, we usually watched movies or played cards. It appeared they had decided on the former.
“What are you guys watching?” I asked, placing my bag next to the stairs.
“Pride & Prejudice,” mumbled Marco.
“The BBC version?” I asked.
“Of course,” said my mother. “How was your work thing?”
“Fine,” I said. “I’m heading upstairs for a bit.”
“Are you hungry, bella?” my Nonna asked.
“No. I’m fine.” I walked up the stairs and threw myself onto my bed. A few minutes later, a knock sounded at my open door.
“Can I come in?” Marco asked. I nodded but otherwise didn’t move from my spot.
“That bad?” He pulled the chair from my tiny wooden desk and set it next to the bed.
Pushing my hair out of my face, I said, “What do you mean?”
“You told Mom you were fine, twice. That most definitely means that you’re not.”
I wanted to smile and cry at the same time. “How did you get to be so smart, huh?”
“I learned from you.” He grinned his boyish grin.
Pushing myself off the bed, I sat cross-legged and faced my brother. “I quit my job at the store, and while Colton said he would pay me for this weekend, the way things ended, I don’t know that he will.”
“He will.”
