Frankie ran down the stairs and headed for the front door. Addison was about to run after him when he realized he was still embarrassingly unclothed. He scrambled for his jeans, glaring at his mother the whole time, and then went sprinting after Frankie. Of course he missed him.
Damn it. Son of a bitch.
He jogged back into his condo to get dressed and go after Frankie, only to find his mother sitting placidly on the couch.
“Mother, I broke up with Julia weeks ago. She’s just not taking no for an answer.”
“Why should she? She’s your fiancée.”
Addison sighed. “I’m gay, Mom. Gay. I’m not going to marry Julia. If Frankie will still take me after what just happened, I’m hoping to spend the rest of my life with him. I love him.”
She rolled her eyes. “You don’t know what you want, which is why Julia and I have to tell you all the time.”
And with that he remembered every moment of his old life that he never wanted to live again. Addison pointed toward the door. “Get. Out. I expect you to leave your key on the counter. You will be returning, by invitation only, after I’ve begged the man I love to come back and explained that you didn’t know what the hell you were talking about.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Addison. You’re acting like a little girl.”
“No, for once I’m acting like a man.” He went over and pulled her up by the elbow. He didn’t do it forcefully, although at that moment, it would have felt good. “I said out. And give me my key.”
“You don’t really love that boy. It’s only a silly phase, probably from living in this heathen neighborhood.” She gestured out the window with pursed lips.
Addison grabbed her key ring himself and pulled his house key off. With any luck, it would soon belong to Frankie. Never hers again.
“Mother, you don’t have a clue who I am at all.”
Then he escorted her quickly to the front door, shut it behind her, and locked it after she’d gone.
Chapter Nine
Frankie’s head hurt like the devil. He wasn’t sure if it was from the wine or—no, it wasn’t the wine. A hangover wasn’t even part of the culprit for the god-awful hammering ache that was splitting his head apart and settling gelatinously in his stomach. He felt like hell, and every time he thought of Addison and the look of absolute guilty horror that dawned on his face, he wanted to scream. It was true. That look said it all. So no, not the wine. Not at all.
He’d felt so wonderful earlier, when they’d first woken up. He’d been all full of love, wrapped in his man’s arms. There had been pictures in his head of the future, living with Addison in his homey condo, them kissing in the restaurant’s kitchen while he tested new recipes. Not anymore. The only thing in his head was pounding and a tightness that led to this shooting pain that zapped him behind his ear every few seconds.
He’d dragged himself into his apartment fifteen minutes earlier, sat down on the couch despondently, and had stared at his unadorned walls. He couldn’t think about what he was going to do next, how he was going to drag himself to work the next day, how he was going to keep on walking and eating and even someday trying to find someone new. The idea felt so wrong. Everything felt wrong. He slumped farther into the couch.
I’m not going find anyone new. If this is love, it sucks. I'm done.
Frankie wasn’t surprised when his lamp shook from that telltale jolt. Of course his mother would come. It was just that kind of day.
“I told you so.” Her voice was strident and a bit smug.
Frankie groaned. He reached for the couch throw to pull over his head. “I’m not going to tell you to leave. You don’t listen anyway. Just get it over with.”
His mom pulled the blanket away. She smiled at him, soft and motherly. It was creepy. “Now that you’re done with your boring newspaperman, why don’t you come home?”
Oh. Now he saw what she was up to. “Not going to happen, Mother.”
“Why won’t you give Laurent a chance? He’s been asking about you again.”
Frankie rolled his eyes. Ouch. That hurt. He massaged his temples gently. She really was never going to give him a break.
“Mom, why can’t you just leave me alone? I love being a chef. It makes me happy when my food makes other people happy. I’m not going to join your little witch club, and I’m not going to do anything with Laurent. Ever.”
She gritted her teeth but still managed to maintain a smile. Impressive. “We do own that building in the French Quarter. You can open a restaurant there.”
Oh, that's a new tactic
. He had to give her points for concession.
Still not going to happen.
“I like it here, Mother. End of story.”
“You want to stay here to be with your boyfriend who’s engaged to a woman?”
The stabbing lightning pain hit him again, hard and fast behind his ear. “I don’t want to talk about him.”
It hurt so bad. Not just the headache but everywhere. The thought of Addison touching someone else made him want to vomit. Frankie’s pocket vibrated. He pulled out his phone.
Addison. Of course.
There was that awful pain again. He went to silence his phone, but he couldn’t.
Am I really that weak?
It wasn’t weakness, he told himself. It was love, right? Didn’t Addison deserve a chance to explain?
No. He’s engaged.
But if Addison was calling, maybe there was more to the story. Frankie didn’t think Addison was the kind of guy who would tell someone he loved him if he didn’t mean it. He tried to imagine Addison being the kind of guy who would run any scam that well. There was no way. Addison wasn’t that guy.
Frankie went to open his phone.
“Oh, I don’t think so.” His mother shot out her hand and wrapped her long fingers around his wrist.
There was a jolt that forced him to drop his phone. The phone bounced on his couch once before sliding to the floor. Then there was a moment of disorienting blackness. The next thing he knew, he was sprawled out on the floor of his parents’ house, all the damn way in Chêne Vieux, Louisiana.
Now that was some bullshit.
“Damn it, Mother! Take me back.” Frankie scrambled to his feet. He hated how he felt like a little awkward duckling every time he was in his family’s presence. His annoying brother Jean had once said that even the maids had more power than him.
His mother swiped an invisible dust bunny off his shirt. “Take yourself back.” She chuckled. “Oh, that’s right. You can’t.”
Frankie was pissed. There was no more dignified word for it. “I’m sure you don’t mean to be a big bitch, not to mention a kidnapper, so I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt. Take me back to my apartment.”
“Why? So you can answer the phone when that reporter calls again? And he will. He’ll probably try to convince you that he’s done with her and he only loves you. It’s the oldest story in the book, Frankie. I’m not going to have a Vallerand fall for it. We’ll look like fools. You know I can’t stand that.”
Frankie sputtered. “Addison and I have nothing to do with you, and it’s not your choice to make. But of course I’m stuck here, since you didn’t let me get my wallet before you took me hostage.” His mother ignored him, as usual. It was so damn infuriating.
“Quit being so dramatic, Francois.” She craned her neck toward the living room entrance. “Ah, Jean! I’m glad you’re here. And Laurent. Thank you for coming on such short notice.” His brother and the cool sophisticated Laurent entered through the doorway instead of materializing like he would’ve expected them to.
Freaking hell. Like he needed more witnesses to his humiliation. Annoyed didn’t come close to covering it anymore. Pissed didn’t either. What game was she playing?
“Hello, Francois, it’s nice to see you again.” Laurent gracefully extended his pale hand for shaking. Everything about the man, from his artfully tailored slacks and button-up to his perfectly manicured hair, annoyed Frankie. But he had to be polite. Damn it.
He reached out and clasped Laurent’s hand in his own.
At that moment, both his brother and his mother covered their joined hands, sending a surge of energy swirling black, painful, and shrieking through him. His consciousness was battered by the energy for long seconds—then nothing. Frankie yanked his hand back and stumbled along the Oriental rug until he came into contact with a divan, and he sat heavily with a clunk.
“What the hell did you guys just do?” His head was spinning, and his vision was blurred around the edges. He imagined this was what getting shocked felt like, but perhaps less pleasant.
“They didn’t do anything,” Laurent said quietly. “It didn’t work.” Laurent turned to Frankie’s mother. “He’s been bonded already. A true bond.”
His mother’s jaw dropped, and Jean looked oddly relieved.
Frankie flattened himself against the divan as far away from his family and Laurent as he could get. “What the hell? You tried to bond me to him? Those are nearly impossible to break.”
“Yes,” Laurent said slowly. “You were one of my potential mates, but clearly I am not one of yours any longer. You have already been bonded to your lover.”
“Addison?” God, what a mess. He’d managed to accidentally attach himself to his engaged boyfriend. Of course. What the hell was he supposed to do?
“Yes,” Laurent confirmed. “Addison, if that’s his name. Did you not mean to do it?”
Frankie winced. Of course not. He wasn’t that talented.
“That’s impossible!” His genteel aristocratic mother screeched like a banshee. “That man is engaged to a woman, and he’s a nobody.” Frankie wondered which was worse in her eyes.
“You know that’s not true, Mother.” It was the first time Jean had spoken.
“What’s not true? That he’s a nobody? By Vallerand standards it’s most certainly true.”
“No, it’s the other.”
“Just spit it out, Jean. I’ve got a long walk ahead of me.” Frankie rolled his eyes at Jean like the bratty younger brother he was. He had no intention of doing anything as ridiculous as walking. Jean probably would have rolled his eyes right back if he wasn’t so intent on getting his point across.
“He’s not still with that woman, Frankie. His mother was misinformed. Think. You have to be able to tell that you have his whole heart. You’ve bonded with him, Frankie. That wouldn’t be possible if he’d split his affections with another.”
“Jean Luc Vallerand. Shut it,” their mother growled. It was ugly, to say the least. Jean didn’t seem to be impressed. Of course, he’d been dealing with her a lot more years than Frankie.
“Mother, quit interfering. It’s not going to do any good, and you’ll get more wrinkles.” Jean gave her a dismissive wave. Frankie swore he could see the steam coming from her head. “Here, Frankie.” Jean held out his hand.
“What are you going to do to me?”
“Take you back to where you belong.”
That was all Frankie needed to hear. He grabbed Jean’s hand and felt a momentary yank. As easy as that, he was in his living room, backing up and falling onto his couch, where his phone still sat open.
“I can’t believe you…” He looked up at his brother askance.
“I’m not always an asshole, Frankie. And I know a bit about loving someone and not getting to be with them.”
Frankie felt that one in his gut. “Laurent.”
Jean winced but then shook his head. “It’s of no matter. I need to get back to my family. Best of luck, little brother.”
And with a small tremor, much cleaner than their mother’s dramatic jolt, Jean was gone.
* * * *
Addison slouched outside of Frankie’s apartment. He’d been there for nearly an hour after calling Frankie’s phone and leaving frantic messages. Eventually, he’d gotten himself together enough to get in his car and book it over to Frankie’s apartment as fast as he could. He’d been shocked when Frankie didn’t answer when he’d pounded on the door. He would’ve waited if there was something that Frankie did wrong… Of course, he didn’t think Frankie was engaged to someone else and a total two-faced liar. Addison’s belly ached.
What if he couldn’t get Frankie back? He bolted to the alley by the side of Frankie’s building before getting violently sick in the street. Just the thought of life without Frankie did that?
Shit
. He walk-crawled back to Frankie’s stoop and curled up in a ball by the door to wait, no matter how long it took.
Frankie had to come back eventually.
* * * *
Frankie wandered around inside his apartment blindly before he gained enough equilibrium to check his phone.
Addison. Five times.
His message light was blinking. Frankie dialed his voice mail.
“Baby, my mom was wrong. I’m not with her anymore. Not since we first met. I love you. Please answer.” Addison’s voice sounded frantic and upset. There was another message. “I need to talk to you. I’m sorry. Please?” Frankie couldn’t bring himself to erase the messages, although the hurt in Addison’s voice made his gut clench. There was one more. “I’m coming over there. I won’t give up. I meant what I said. I want us forever, Frankie. I love you.”
Frankie hit redial. He was ending this stupid thing right away. Addison loved him. He loved Addison… Addison wasn’t picking up his phone? Frankie got voice mail.
“Addie, babe. I know. I know you aren’t with her. I’ll tell you how. Just call me back. I love you. I’m sorry I believed your mom.”
He stumbled into his cold bedroom. It held none of the appeal of Addison’s, with that big warm bed that smelled just like Addison and the bright windows and golden cherry floors. He lay down on his bed, the one he’d barely been on in the last few weeks, and curled up with his phone against his chest. He’d just lie there for a while, until Addison got his message and called him back. Surely Addison would call him back. Surely.
* * * *
Frankie woke up in his dark apartment. He'd been asleep for two hours. He checked his phone, but he had no missed calls. His stomach clenched violently. Where was Addison? Frankie lurched into the bathroom and threw up. Would he react like this every time they got into a fight? He sure as hell hoped not. As much as he loved Addison, they were bound to get pissy once in a while. Frankie washed out his mouth and grabbed his keys. He had to go find Addison.