Mail-Order Brides For Christmas - Frankie Love Page 0,90
nickname doesn’t help the situation at all.
I knew it was going to happen, it was inevitable. But Gabby died not long after I left this place. My entire world was thrown into turmoil almost as soon as we touched down in New York, and I just wasn’t her anymore. Just hearing the name he’d once called me with such fondness, such love, it gutted me every time.
Then there was the other man in my life.
I push that thought aside like I always do. He doesn’t deserve a second of my time after the way he betrayed us.
Spencer does as I ask and doesn’t ask any questions, although I’m not sure if he’s doing it for me, or for him.
He’s clearly unhappy with this, and it makes me wonder if I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life.
I made the decision not to tell anyone after Holly’s call. Not that I really had anyone to tell. Mom was away on a relaxing break with her new friends and she’s just about the only person in my life these days, unless I count my boss.
No one’s probably even realized I’ve left yet which is a seriously sobering thought. I wonder if I left such a tiny impression on this place when I was dragged away.
I keep my eyes trained on the outside of the car, taking in the similarities and differences of the town I love so much. I smile when we pass the Mistletoe Hardware store, the thought of Spencer’s parents fills me with joy. They were always such an inspiration. So happy, warm, loving. So many things I didn’t have in my own family home, although I didn’t realize just how bad things were until we left.
I notice that the hairdressers have a shiny new name and sign out the front and I wonder what happened to the old lady who used to run it, the bakery looks the same as ever, only with a fresh coat of paint.
Things might be up in the air with the man beside me, but I know one thing for a fact. I’m home.
My heart feels whole again just being here.
Main Street comes to an end and Spencer slows. Part of me expects him to turn left to Joy and Hank’s house like we always used to, so I’m surprised when he signals to go right.
That surprise soon turns into utter disbelief when he begins to slow a little before a house I remember all too well.
“Tell me you don’t—”
I look over at him, taking in his profile. His nose is a little crooked like it always was after one of his brothers broke it when they were kids, his lips are full and tingles erupt within me as I vividly remember how it felt to kiss him, how electric it was. His jaw is now covered with thicker, darker stubble than I remember, but it only makes his square jawline more breathtaking.
The muscles in his neck tighten at my question and his jaw pops as he must grind his teeth. That’s the only reaction I get though, because as he turns the car, he says nothing.
Dragging my eyes away, I wait to see the house I used to dream of as a kid.
It was always old and a little dilapidated. The couple who’d owned it were too old to maintain it. As the years went on, we watched it slowly fall apart but it never made it any less appealing to me.
I had visions of living in this house. Of renovating it and turning it into our family home. I could see myself on the deck writing with a dog at my feet and a steaming cup of coffee. I could picture Spencer in the huge yard cutting the grass and creating all kinds of incredible things like he always used to in the massive workshop. I could see our kids, our future, our forever.
For me, this house had it all, but it was all taken away from me with one decision by my parents.
I expect to see a better version of the old house when it appears, so I can’t help let out a little gasp of surprise when I find it as old and run down as I remember.
“Oh my god.”
Without a word, he pulls the car up out front, kills the engine, and shoulders the door open.
I’m still staring at the house when he pops the trunk and pulls my cases out.