The weight of it hit me so hard I had to sit.
Jake had told them. Everyone.That Mathieu and I had slept together. Thathe knew.
I pressed a hand to my stomach. It didn’t help.
“Frankie—” Mathieu started.
I shook my head once. “I need a minute.”
Archie handed me his glass without a word.
I didn’t drink it.
But I held it tight, like it might steady me.
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
FRANKIE
Ididn’t drink the whiskey. Not at first. It was too damn much, but I held it like it might anchor me. Like the condensation on the glass could trick my palm into thinking something was steady today. That my friendships were absolutely detonating around me and that there was something worth salvaging.
I wasn’t so sure on any of these topics.
The truth was a knife in my ribs. Digging. Poking. Prodding. Leaving me to bleed out slowly.
Not because I was ashamed of sleeping with Mathieu— God, no. He had been amazing. That was mine. Ours. Private. It only came out with Jake because we’d been— Fuck I didn’t even know what we’d been about to do. He’d been wrapped around me, then kissing me and it felt so good and then…
Then he stormed out. Angry didn’t seem to even cover it. He’d barely said even two words to mesincehe left. Now, he took what I told him and turned it into some kind of punchline. A spectacle.
Rachel seemed to be watching me carefully, all sharp lines and silent support. Archie, on the other hand, wore an expression that looked like he waged an internal debate onwhether to say something comforting or scathing. Honestly, he could probably do both in one laser-focused sentence. Archie’s intelligence was matched only by the candid, sharp-witted nature of his often-biting commentary.
Frankly, it was a toss-up between Archie and Rachel who could land the most strategic verbal blows.
Mathieu moved closer, cautious as though I might shatter. I hated that. I hated how small I felt. I’d fought past this all summer and one of the reasons I’d succeeded had beenbecauseof Mathieu. Meeting him, getting to know him, and building this relationship… it had done more than rebuild my confidence.
“Frankie,” he said in a low voice, his French accent softening each syllable. “I didn’t know he was going to?—”
“How could you?” I said quickly. Too quickly. When I told him about my confession to Jake, I hadn’t hid the circumstances and Mathieu had taken that so damn well. He owed me no apologies.
Jake might have been hurt, and possessive. He might even have been jealous and pissy, in the worst way. But I never would have expected him to attack me so publicly, not even to get at someone else.
“Was it mean?” I had to ask. “Or strategic?”
“What?” Rachel blinked even as Mathieu looked puzzled.
“Jake outing us,” I explained, locking my gaze on Archie’s. “Was it because he wanted to hurtmeor was it about humiliatingMathieu?”
“A little of column A,” Archie said grimly. “And a little of column B. Except… I don’t think he thought before he said it. I don’t think it was that simple. Maybe.”
“It’s not about simplicity,” I continued, not once looking away from Archie. We didn’t lie to each other. Not when it mattered. There were little lies, little mistruths about day-to-day stuff. But the big things? Archie never lied, not when I askedhim straight out and I’d done my damnedest to do the same thing. It might be weird to the others, but it worked for me and Archie. “It matters because if it was just about hurting me, then it was because Jake was angry.” Then I could deal with that. Deal with Jake. “If it was about humiliating Mathieu and not giving a damn that I was collateral, then it’s a lot worse.”
“They’re both bad, Frankie,” Rachel murmured in a voice that was both sympatheticandempathetic.
She wasn’t wrong except… “I know. But only one of those means he’s not done yet.”
Archie sighed and I read the answer right there in the anger in his eyes. It was definitely both. Jake had been—was—angry with me. But he also wanted to punish Mathieu. He was far from being done.
