Mirepoix (A Recipe Of Love Book 1) (16 page)

“I don’t know what I find more disturbing, that you guys talk about my eyebrow or have assigned it its own personality like it’s a separate entity.” I answer just as softly as I finish up with dinner.

“Dude, you know you love our crazy.”

“I really do Lindsay, and I’m glad Frankie has you. I can’t think of a fiercer more loyal person than you. Thank you for taking care of her.” I decide to
answer her honestly. I owe her more than I can think for taking care of Frankie for all these years.  Frankie told me how Lindsay took care of her when her world fell apart for her the second time. I shudder to think of the pain she’s suffered and am only grateful she had Frankie to kick her ass into living again.

Lindsay looks up at me and for a second the sarcastic tough mask she always wears slips and lets me see the real her. Her eyes are glistening with unshed tears.

“Thank you. It’s nothing less than she’s done for me. And thank you for not resenting how close we are or trying to make her choose between us. Most people can’t understand how close we are.” She looks back down at the silverware she’s aligning straight enough to make a finishing school director green with envy.  I watch her take a deep breath before she slips back into her normal persona. “It might be enough
that I promise to stop popping in unannounced hoping for a live action performance.”

I almost choke on the laugh that spontaneously erupts. I walk over to her and pull her in for a quick sideways hug.

“Next time I’ll make sure we’re wearing costumes just for you.” I joke to make sure to keep the mood light. I walk over to where Frankie is still dozing thinking I’m lucky to have them both in my life.

“Wake up, Pixie. Dinners done and you need to be awake when everyone gets here or they might steal all your nummy
birthday dinner.”  I gently shake her shoulder to help her wake the whole way. She blinks at me sleepily and I can mentally see her processing my words.

“What nummies? I might not let anyone else have any if they’re good.” She mumbles as she stretches. I’m momentarily stunned into silence watching her wishing I could just lock the door and strip her down again.

“I made lasagna and salad with fresh baked bread.”

She stops mid stretch and looks at me with wide shocked eyes. I can see the thoughts flick across her face going from shocked I remembered to touched that I did and settling into a softness I can’t resist. I lean down and give her a gentle kiss that matches it.

“I love you so much, Frankie.” I whisper touching my forehead to hers letting my hair fall around us, as much as I like Lindsay this moment is just for us.

“Oh god, I love you too, Joe. I didn’t want to scare you by telling you before now. It’s only been a couple months, and I didn’t want to go too fast but I do.” We kiss each other slowly and tenderly like the moment calls for. Normally we’re ravenous for each other and let our passion take over but this moment is sweet enough to let it simmer instead of boil over. “Why the hell did you tell me now when we’re having company over so we can’t celebrate naked?!” she squeals as we pull apart.

“Don’t let me stop you! I’m sure I can find some popcorn in here somewhere.” Lindsay quips from the table as she sits and fans herself.

After everyone leaves I finish wiping down the counters and making one last check that the kitchen is in order. After years of working in kitchens I’m used to making sure everything is clean and spotless since you never know when the health department might pop in, I guess the habit has carried over into my personal life and my home. I mentally put on the brakes realizing I just referred to Frankie’s apartment as home. I just got the girl to admit she loves me, there’s no way I’m going to bring up moving in just yet. It makes sense though since the only reason I go home lately is to change clothes. I had Heather removed from the access list at my apartment building and only meet with her at the restaurant now.

After the photoshoot last month I definitely set new boundaries with Heather. She seemed way too curious about who Frankie was for my peace of mind. I wasn’t sure what Heather’s issue was, but I decided that maybe restricting her access to me would help her remember the only relationship we had was professional and she had no control over my personal life. After a comment she recently made about how soon my restaurant would be over-run by bikers and freaks I was reconsidering even that. I wonder how shocked she would be if I followed through on one of my dreams and bought myself a motorcycle.

That thought immediately led to images of Frankie’s arms wrapped tightly around me as we sped down a road going nowhere. That definitely chased Heather from my thoughts. I wonder if I could get Frankie in a leather jacket if I got her a helmet and let Andy paint something on it.
Hey look at that I said his name without any expletives.
The more time I spend with both Andy and Frankie together though I realize they’re just really good friends, he’s almost like a big brother to her. Recently finding out they never progressed past a few awkward kisses has probably helped me accept this.

I join Frankie where she has been lounging on the couch watching me clean. She has both the ottomans pulled in so the couch has become essentially a giant bed. I lay down next to her and pull her in so that I’m her pillow and I can feel her all along my torso and her tiny feet tuck automatically between my knees. I just enjoy the silence, well as silent as it gets inside a massive city. I can hear her soft even breaths over my chest and the traffic down in the street below. The refrigerator adds a soft hum to the quiet symphony that is relaxing me almost as much as Frankie’s presence alone does.

“Come to my mom’s with me for Thanksgiving, Frankie.” I state softly loath to break the quiet bubble we’re in. I feel the tension in her body the minute I finish the question. My instinct instantly flare telling me I may have just found a giant fear button for Frankie. Unfortunately I don’t know what about the question might be the cause.

“Baby why did that make you tense up?” I can tell this is one of the important instances where I need to force the issue. I ease back so that I can look into her beautiful blue eyes that are swimming with terror right now. God, I hate making her look or feel like she does right now, I have to remind myself that it’s not me it’s her anxiety talking to her right now. I need to relax and talk her down even though I just want to hug her and drop the subject and do whatever it takes to get that look gone. I know however I need to find out specifically what it is that has her more freaked than I’ve ever seen.

“Where does she live and how would we get there?” She whispers as I pry her fists open and lay her hands flat on my chest with mine holding them in place. I refuse to allow her to harm herself while she’s having an attack and I could tell if she squeezed her hands any tighter she would have drawn blood.

“She lives just south of Baltimore. It’s a quick drive down 95, depending on traffic it’s normally two hours.” I wish I could let go of her hands and rub her back. She’s so worked up I can feel the tiny hitches in her breath. I pull her close and deliberately take deep slow breaths holding them before exhaling trying to get her to match my breathing.

“In a car? I don’t like cars, Joe.” She’s definitely starting to hyperventilate at this point but thankfully I think I found the root of what triggered this attack. I roll over on my back and pull her over me so she’s straddling me and looking me straight in the face. Her hands are trapped between us so if she’s going to hurt anyone it will be me. I can finally get my arms around her and rub her back trying to ease her knotted up muscles.

“No, not a car. Think how funny I would look trying to fold my big tall body into a car. I have a really big black truck. So big I don’t think you’ll be able to get in it on your own. Ready for a big deep dark secret?” I can see she’s starting to calm down finally her breaths are deeper and her hands aren’t clenching as tightly to me. As I hoped the mental image of me trying to fold in and out of an itty bitty car has stopped her spiralling thoughts for some reason
. She nods her head minutely, her curiosity thankfully beating fear for the moment. 

“I’m a country boy. I know! Don’t look so shocked.” I tease gently at the skeptical look on her face. God if she won’t drive down maybe we can take the train and can drive from baltimore to my hometown, I can take all back roads and go as slow as she needs. I’m now dying to see the absolute urbanite Frankie in my town. For all her naturalistic ways I think the only time Frankie ever leaves the city is to go to another city, maybe to the Jersey Shore in the summer.

I asked because I wanted her to meet my mom, my mom already knows all about Frankie and I’m truthfully surprised she hasn’t shown up on my doorstep. Then again with how little I’m home that wouldn’t do her much good. I just want the two most important women in my life to meet each other. I love my mother and have no doubt that she will love Frankie and if I can give her any more family, then I will. I wish I had siblings or close friends I could package up and give to her. Hopefully before too long she’ll let me plant a baby in her.
Whoa, where the fuck did that thought come from?
I have never before in my life reacted with anything other than abject terror at the thought of having kids with someone. Hmmmm
  better back burner that random stray thought to investigate
a bit further down the road, and why the idea of her round with my baby in her makes me happy on a primal level.

“How country is country? You don’t have any accent. Will I hear banjos?” She is definitely eying me distrustfully as if I’m going to drag her to some weird shanty in the middle of nowhere.

“Not that country babe. My mom lives about ten minutes outside of town. She does live on about fifteen acres, roughly three city blocks to make it in a unit of measurement you’ll understand.” I tease her gently tickling her and rolling my eyes at her so she knows I’m just joking. “Tell me what I can do to help hun. I understand now why you kept turning down rides. You don’t need to worry about being embarrassed about admitting any of your phobias babe. I will not judge you for it.”

“Well it won’t be bad if we’re in a truck. It’s big enough that I feel safe from someone running into us. I don’t want to leave too late because then we might run into drunks on the road. Would we go down Wednesday and come back Thursday? Or do you have to work Wednesday?”

I let out a relieved sigh. I know once she has something logical to concentrate on she can normally pull out of her negative thought pattern. This was the worst panic attack I’ve witnessed, I’m man enough to admit to myself at least that it scared the shit out of me. I was dreading having to call Lindsay for help or having to give Frankie one of the antianxiety pills she recently showed me the location of for when she gets truly hysterical.

“I’m closing the restaurant Thursday and Friday so we could leave early Thursday morning and hopefully avoid traffic, then come home Saturday morning. I’ll drive as slow as you need me to and we won’t be on the roads during normal times that drunk drivers are. If you want, we can take the direct route down 95 or we can take longer and use back roads, whatever makes you feel safer. I want you and my mom to meet each other.” I run my fingers through her hair tucking it behind her ears and cup the back of her neck. I’m reassured by her pulse resuming its normal steady pace. I ignore the slight clammy feeling to her skin thanks to stress sweat.

“Can Lindsay come with us? We always spend family holidays together. I wouldn’t feel right abandoning her.” She asks shyly but still looking me in the eye. I feel like fist pumping in victory no matter how much of an idiot it would make me look like. Being able to help her deal with what is obviously a major phobia for her has me feeling like I accomplished something meaningful, none of the cooking competitions I’ve won have ever made me feel this way. The sense of pride of being able to help this amazing beautiful woman I love has completely changed my life and I don’t think she even realizes it.

“Of course she can come. I’m dying to see her reaction to the cows on the neighbor's farm!”

20

“Why the hell do they have to be so big? The damn thing is as almost as big as your truck! I don’t think we could even fit that son of a bitch in the back and I’m reasonably certain we can fit a car in it.” I double over grabbing my ribs that hurt from laughing so hard. I should have known all I needed was Lindsay with us to distract me from my amaxophobia, and yes there’s a word for fear of riding in a car. After my parents died in a car accident, I couldn’t stand riding in a car, it doesn’t matter that I know the advances in safety technology for cars, or how safe a driver swears to be. Fear isn’t logical that’s why it’s a phobia. What people don’t understand is that it isn’t the driver of the car I’m in that concerns me, it’s everyone else on the road. You have no way of knowing who is drunk, who’s texting or who is just a pissed off asshole that wants to run someone off the road. This is what terrifies me.

I didn’t have time to worry about any of that today. Joe got us up and bundled up with extra blankets and into the truck before we were truly awake. After a brief discussion about whether I would do better up front or in the back of the extended cab with Lindsay I decided to sit up front. Joe of course was right that I can’t get in his big beast by myself. He helped Lindsay hop in the back before just lifting me and placing me in the passenger seat. He wrapped the soft throw that we normally snuggle on the couch with around me and kissed my forehead before closing the door. I leaned against the door smelling our combined scent on the blanket wondering if I should have taken one of my pills before we left. I was afraid I would still be loopy when we got to his mom’s so I decided to tough it out. Before we even left the block Lindsay had me laughing hysterically by commenting that she was glad for my sake Joe’s truck wasn’t a form of overcompensation.