Page 88 of Frankie and the Fed

I drop my bag at the entrance and flop down on her couch. “So, how’s things with Amber going?”

“You know, slow but steady. Is this an attempt to distract me from what’s going on with you?”

Yes. “No,” I reply. “I’m fine.”

“If everything is so fine, what are you doing in my apartment, in the morning, with a suitcase? Where’s Ethan?”

“I don’t know where he is,” I answer honestly. “He didn’t bother to tell me after I found out he lied to me. Twice.”

“Okay.” She gets up from the sofa slowly. “I think this calls for some alcohol, but since it’s so early in the morning, we’ll settle for hot chocolate.”

I watch her go to the kitchen and prepare the drinks. She has an amazing home, huge by New York standards. I have visited here several times, and I’m still impressed every time. There is always something new, new curtains, a new rug, a new something. Olive is constantly redecorating. She designed the apartment down to the last detail. And I know that unlike Ethan’s penthouse, which was decorated by some master designer, Olive’s house has been designed only by her hands. She is so talented.

I take a few minutes to compose myself before she returns and serves me the hot drink.

“Come on, spill.”

I hesitate because it’s all so personal. And she is Ethan’s friend, after all. But I can’t expect her to welcome me without telling her anything about what happened.

“Do you remember when I was in San Francisco, and Ethan was seen at a party with a blonde woman?”

“Yes. Lena Castle. I know her.”

“She visited me yesterday morning.”

“Bitch. I told Ethan that was a huge mistake and that it was going to hurt you and bite him in the ass. She only brings trouble.” Olive puts her hand on my thigh. “But really, there was nothing between them. He never stopped loving you.”

“They slept together,” I point out.

Olive frowns in response. “What did she want? To tell you how much he prefers her over you? Because that’s clearly not true.”

“No. She wanted to tell me she was pregnant with his child.”

Olive covers her mouth with her hand. “No!”

“Yes. At least that’s what she claims.”

“So you left him?”

“I… Yes. No.” I don’t want to leave him. “I waited for him to tell me about it. But he preferred to leave me out of the loop and hide it.”

“It’s difficult to tell the woman you love such a thing,” she says. “I’m sure he regrets sleeping with her.”

“He said he didn’t tell me because he was sure it wasn’t his. He sent her to do a paternity test.”

“Okay. That’s good. If it’s not his, you’ll continue as usual, won’t you?”

“You don’t understand. I knew he slept with her. It hurts, but I can live with it. After all, we weren’t together. If she’s pregnant by him, we’ll deal with it. But he wasn’t going to tell me. Something that has the potential to change our entire lives, and he didn’t think I had the right to know.”

“He’s very protective of you.”

“If protecting me means he doesn’t see me as an equal, then I don’t want it. This woman said he was my sugar daddy. And I think there might be something to what she said.” A tear runs down my cheek, and I wipe it away.

“Sugar daddy? Where do you get this nonsense?”

“Look at us! He gives me money, a place to live, a job. And in return, I sleep with him. Isn’t that the definition of a sugar daddy?”

“You’re a couple! It’s not the same.”