She leaned into my touch, and I was sure I had the dopiest expression on my face. I would have leaned in right then and there to kiss her if my phone hadn’t gone off.

I pulled it out of my back pocket and groaned when I saw my mom’s number flashing across the screen.

Frankie winced when I held up the phone to her. “Going to get that?” she asked.

“I’ll call her back,” I muttered, stuffing the phone back into my pocket.

Frankie started stacking glasses behind the bar. I could tell she wanted to say something but was holding back.

“Say it,” I said. While I still didn’t love talking about heavier stuff, I had come to trust Frankie. I was a lot more open to talking things through with her—like feelings and shit. While I couldn’t promise I wouldn’t try and defuse the tension with the occasional joke, I’d never lose it and run away from her again. I’d at least come that far.

She looked up at me and bit her lip. “Maybe you should try talking to her. Tell her how you feel,” she whispered, both of her arms resting on the bar.

“I don’t know how I feel,” I insisted.

She lifted an eyebrow. “You can’t think of anything you’d like to say to her?”

“Not a single thing,” I said, shooting her a lazy smile that I knew she saw straight through. The topic of my mother exhausted me. I’d rather pretend like everything was fine with her than actually say anything real. That had never been our relationship.

“I really think you’ll feel better if you get it out,” Frankie said, stepping back and picking up a glass to wipe. I noticed that about her. She always loved to be doing something. If there was a random item on the table, you could bet that Frankie would pick it up to fiddle with it. When I mentioned it to her one time, she said it helped her think.

“Get what out?” I played dumb, knowing it infuriated her.

“It.” She waved a hand around exasperatedly. “You know.”

My grin widened. “I do know, I just love seeing the cute little lines that form between your eyebrows when you get frustrated.”

Her hand flung up to her face as she smoothed out the lines in question. “You’re going to give me early onset wrinkles.”

“And you’ll still look gorgeous,” I said, backing away toward the end of the bar. “I should probably call her back before she bombards me with texts. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll try to manage on my own,” she joked, gesturing to the near-empty space.

As soon as I walked out into the lobby, my phone rang again. I pressed the answer button and put it to my ear. “Mom,” I said, hoping it didn’t come out overly cold.

“Why haven’t you called me back?” she demanded. “I called you three days ago. I was about to file a missing person’s report.”