Sunset In Central Park. Sarah Morgan
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have resisted if he’d wanted to. He hadn’t. Which either meant he’d been as keen to exit the apartment as she was to see him leave, or that he’d been weakened by the shock of discovering that she was wearing glasses when she didn’t need to, and embarrassing didn’t begin to describe that moment.
Frankie squirmed in her seat.
What must he think of her?
She wanted to slink under the table and never come out again, but that would be about as mature as her reaction when he’d raised the subject on Saturday.
She wished she could put the clock back. There were so many more dignified ways she could have reacted. A light, flirtatious response would have been perfect.
“Did you see Matt yesterday?” She kept her tone casual and Paige glanced up from the screen.
“Briefly. Why?”
“No reason. I wondered if he mentioned anything.” Like the fact that he had a deranged woman living in his apartment. A deranged woman with perfect vision.
“He mentioned he’s overloaded with work. I promised to feed Claws tonight because he’s going to be late. He’s going to owe me big-time for that favor. I might need a bodyguard.”
“I am generally considered to be a people-pleaser and the fact that I’m not volunteering to do it in your place tells you what I think of that cat.” Eva stood up. “I’m willing to call the Bronx Zoo if you like and ask if they have any tips for feeding predators. Maybe we could open the window and poke a piece of meat through with a long pole.”
“I’ll feed her.” Frankie shrugged as they both looked at her. “Why not? She’s just a cat.” And it would give her an opportunity to leave a note in Matt’s apartment. She’d apologize for being rude. Then she wouldn’t have to do it face-to-face.
Which meant that she could add cowardice to her other flaws, but never mind.
Turning back to her work, she answered an email from a client who wanted flowers delivered to his wife on a monthly basis.
“Claws isn’t just a cat. She is a psychotic cat,” Eva said. “She scratched me so hard last week I thought my bone was going to fall out through the hole.”
Paige shuddered. “That’s vile.”
“It was vile. Lucas Blade could use that animal in one of his books as a murder weapon.”
“What did you do to her?”
“Nothing! I was trying to hug her! She was abandoned and mistreated. I was trying to show her that not all humans are evil.”
“You have to let her work that out for herself, Ev. You can’t love someone who doesn’t want to be loved.”
“Everyone wants to be loved. If they don’t, it’s because they’re afraid.”
Frankie pressed Send on her email. “Or because they think that love is just too much trouble.”
“That’s another way of saying they’re afraid. Don’t worry, I learned my lesson. I’m not going near her again. From now on I’ll be projecting my positive feelings from a safe distance.” Eva’s phone rang and she picked it up and wandered out of the room, the fabric of her tiny scarlet skirt skimming her long, tanned legs.
Frankie stared after her, wondering how it felt to be that sexually confident. “Did she forget to dress? If she goes outside wearing that skirt there will be a riot.”
Paige jabbed the charging cable into her phone. “She looks amazing, doesn’t she? We went shopping yesterday when you were lost in your book. Your response to stress is to read, ours is to shop. How was it, by the way?”
“I didn’t make it past the third chapter.”
“That’s not like you. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong.”
“Frankie—”
“It’s Matt.” She closed her laptop. “He found out I don’t need to wear glasses.”
“He— Oh.” Paige let out a long breath. “How? When?”
“Saturday night. He came down looking for Claws. I was on my own and I wasn’t expecting anyone. I was reading and cooking and—I wasn’t paying attention. Long day.” She closed her eyes briefly. “I can’t believe I was so careless.”
“Is it really such a big deal?”
“It’s a huge deal.”
“Why?” Paige sat back in her chair. “Frankie, it’s not as if he’s a stranger. Matt has known you since you were a kid. He knows pretty much everything there is to know about you.”
“He didn’t know I wear glasses even though my vision is perfect.”
“How did he react?”
“I don’t know. I pushed him out the door without asking.” Remembering made her want to crawl under the table. “There were a million things I could have said or done. I could have smiled and said I manage fine without my glasses in the apartment but no, I gave him a shove that would probably have injured someone less powerfully built than your brother.”
“If he upset you, I’ll kill him.” Paige sounded annoyed. “Did he say something tactless?”
“I didn’t give him the chance. It wasn’t his fault. It was me. All me.” She dropped her head in her hands. “What is wrong with me? I’m a sane, independent woman. I’m good at my job—”
“You’re excellent at your job.”
“Yeah, I really am. And I know I’m a disappointing daughter, but I’m a great friend even though I don’t hug enough for Eva.” She lifted her head. “All I’m saying is that in every other aspect of my life I’m pretty normal and function well. Why am I such a basket case around men?”
“Do you seriously need me to answer that?”
“No, but I should have the emotional intelligence not to let the antics of my mother affect my life like this. Matt said he liked me in my T-shirt—he paid me a compliment and I responded as if he’d covered me in anthrax.”
“This is why you want to learn to flirt?”
“I want to learn to be normal.” She looked at her friend in despair. “What am I going to do?”
“Do you mean about the glasses, Matt or men in general?”
“All of it! How can I wear glasses around him knowing that he knows? I’ll feel stupid. And what do I say next time I see him?”
“Whether you wear glasses or not is your choice, Frankie. If you feel more comfortable wearing them, then wear them. And as for what happened on Saturday—” Paige thought for a moment “—you should probably talk to him about it.”
“I was leaning more toward pretending it never happened.” If she could ignore it, she would. “I could leave him a note saying sorry I was weird.”
“You don’t have to do that, Frankie. He knows you.”
“You mean he knows I’m weird.”
Paige smiled. “No. I mean he knows what you grew up with. I don’t understand why this bothers you. This is Matt we’re talking about. Not some stranger.”
It was precisely because it was Matt that it bothered her. Exposing the depth of her hang-ups to a guy she’d known forever and found attractive was mortifying.
Generally she didn’t care what men thought about her, but she cared what Matt thought.
“You’re right. I should have an adult conversation. But I can’t turn ‘hey, I wear glasses but I don’t need them’ into anything that sounds remotely mature.”