Sunset In Central Park (From Manhattan with Love 2)

Frankie thought of the way she’d responded to Matt’s suggestion that she go with him to Puffin Island.

You’d have to drug me and tie me to the plane.

“I’m not brave, Ev. And I love the marshmallow side of you. Don’t ever change.”

Her friend’s words made her feel like a fraud.

She knew she wasn’t an inspiration for anyone. If she was strong and together would she really be so afraid to go back to Puffin Island? Would she really be so terrified of taking the leap with Matt?

“I want to change the way I am. I’m tired of feeling bad. Any tips greatly received.” Eva reached for another tissue. “If you want to help, you can distract me. Tell me about your evening with Matt. You said it was perfect.”

“We walked in Central Park. We talked. We had dinner. It involved food and conversation.”

“But it wasn’t a date.”

“No. It definitely wasn’t a date.”

“So there were no romantic moments?” Eva seemed so disappointed Frankie was tempted to make one up just to see her friend smile.

“He did grab my hand a couple of times.”

Eva brightened. “Truly?”

“Probably to stop me running off.”

“Why would you run off?”

“He mentioned Puffin Island. He wants me to go back for a weekend with him.” She toed off her shoes and curled up on the sofa next to Eva. “He’s combining a job with a friend’s wedding.” Knowing that Eva would ask, she added the name. “Ryan Cooper.”

“I know him. He’s hot.”

“He’s also off the market because he’s marrying his very pregnant girlfriend, Emily, in a romantic beach wedding.”

Eva looked dreamily across the room. “I would love to style a beach wedding. And you’re invited? Lucky you. This is what I mean about you being an inspiration. Most people who’d been through what you’ve been through would be too scared to go back, and you’re scared, too, but you’re doing it, anyway.”

Frankie opened her mouth. There was no way she was going back. “In fact, I’m not—”

“Don’t waste your breath telling me you’re not brave, because you are. I know you’re scared, but doing something even though it scares you is the definition of brave.”

“Yes, but I’m not—”

“You are! You are brave. And I’m going to remember that every time I hit a rough patch thinking about Gran. It’s hard, but I’m going to get through it. I feel better already.” She scrunched up the tissue she’d been using. “I’m glad you’re going back. I’ve never said anything before but I was worried about you staying away. And there are so many wonderful things about the island.”

Oh hell, how was she going to extract herself from this?

Frankie’s throat was so dry she felt as if she’d swallowed sand. “Name one.”

“The smell of salt and sea. That feeling you get when you walk on the cliffs and you stare into infinity and realize how big the world is and how small you are. The wind in your hair, the seagulls, small children with big smiles and melting ice creams.”

Frankie felt a tug deep inside her, a yearning for something long forgotten. “I miss those things, too.”

“And then there are the wonderfully quirky people.”

“Those, I don’t miss.”

“The other day I read about a man who had died in his apartment in Harlem. No one discovered his body for five weeks. Five weeks. That would never happen on Puffin Island.”

“True, and they wouldn’t need a post mortem because they’d already know why he died.”