Frankie beams at me. His smile is so charming, but I wonder how I ever thought it made me feel warm. It’s Dean’s smile that warms me up from the inside out. “I told you I’m moving to town, remember?”
Right. That’s why Dean was teaching me how to be good in bed. A maniacal giggle slips out of my mouth, and Frankie frowns.
“You okay?” he asks.
No. I’m not okay. I’ve fallen in love with a guy who’s in love with someone else. I’m not okay. I should’ve known better. I should’ve known I’d never be enough. I shake my head, but before I can answer, Dean returns to the table.
He smiles at Frankie, but his brow is creased. “Hey there. You trying to steal my date?” He asks it like he’s joking, but anyone who knows him well would hear the edge of annoyance beneath his words. I don’t get it. How can he be so possessive of me and still be . . . whatever he is with Amy? Are they messing around? Did he never close that door?
Frankie’s eyes go wide and shift back and forth between me and Dean. When his gaze settles on me, there’s no missing the hurt and disappointment in his eyes. “Right.” He practically jumps out of the booth. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” He shoves a hand toward Dean. “I’m Frankie, a friend of Abbi’s. Just moved to town.”
Dean’s fake smile falls away, and his expression goes stony. “Frankie?” He turns to me, his jaw hardening. “You didn’t tell me he was going to be here tonight.”
I’m so confused. Dean knows Frankie? I shake my head. “I didn’t know. I didn’t even know he was in town yet.”
Frankie looks as confused as I feel, but he finally gives up on Dean taking his hand and drops it to his side. “Um. Should I go?”
“Yes,” Dean and I say in unison. Then I grimace, because we sound like total assholes. “We’ll catch up another time,” I tell Frankie gently.
“Looking forward to it,” he says, backing away.
“I’m sure you are, buddy,” Dean mutters. He pulls his wallet from his pocket and throws money on the table. “Let’s get out of here.”
“What’s your problem?”
His eyes widen. “My problem?”
“Yes, your problem.” I lower my voice, worried we’re calling attention to ourselves. “You’re acting like a dick for no good reason.” And you might still be sleeping with Amy, and I’m not okay with that.
He grunts. “I finally get my girl to go out with me in public, and the guy she’s doing all this for literally shows up to take my place. Seems like reason enough to be a dick to me.”
“Let’s go.” Yep, people are turning to stare. “Make sure you don’t forget your phone.” I slide it to him, climb out of the booth, and march toward the door, my anger the only thing keeping the tears at bay. With every step, I feel Dean behind me, his glare burning into my back.
I don’t stop when I hit the sidewalk, and I don’t go toward the back lot where I know he’s parked. I just keep marching all the way to my house.
When I hit the porch and finally turn to him, his stony expression has turned to granite. And really? He’s pissed right now?
“How do you even know about Frankie, anyway?” Of all the things I could start with, I don’t know why I start there. Maybe because that’s the easiest part of this mess we’re in.
His nostrils flare, but he looks away before he answers. “Stella told me you’d been working on your confidence. Of course, I already knew that. The part I didn’t know was that you were fucking me so you could be better for him.”
“I . . .” I don’t know what to say. He’s hurt, and I can’t exactly deny that’s how it started, but I’ve barely spared Frankie a thought. Of course, I didn’t realize Dean was keeping things going with Amy. And I should have. I never should’ve believed he’d settle for me. But I did. I really, really did.
“You can’t even deny it,” he says, his voice rough.
“I could,” I say. “I could explain this all started because of Frankie, but everything I wanted changed once I thought I had a chance with you.” I try to laugh, but it sounds more like a strangled sob, and tears roll down my cheeks. “But I don’t really see the point in defending myself—in fighting for this—when Amy’s still sexting you.”
The blood drains from his face, and I want to drop to the ground and cry. This is really happening. I’m not wrong about what I saw. “Abbi—”
“Don’t.” I shake my head. “I can’t do this. I won’t compete with her.”
“It’s not a competition,” he says, and for the first time since Frankie introduced himself, Dean’s expression is tender. “There is no competition.”