“I was ready to sign over Frankie and my firstborn to get out of this particular hole.”

“Frankie was making me work for my forgiveness. It had taken several days, a thousand phone messages, and a seriously overpriced Vogue Hommes International shoved through his mail slot to get him even to speak to me. He was sitting across the table from me now, arms crossed over his chest (to be fair, he did that a lot when wearing that particular cashmere sweater; it covered the repaired moth hole at the point of the V-neck), glowering a little. I nudged the cannoli another millimeter toward him. It was chocolate chip,his fave."So I screwed up twice." I was wrapping up my tale of guilt and woe. "Edward I don't mind so much now. We just were too different for it to work out in the end..." I chanced a glance at Frankie's sulky face to see if he found that at all humorous. Apparently not.,. I sighed and went for honesty. "Alex...That one has walloped me."Frankie darted out a finger and scooped a little of the filling from the cannoly. I resisted the urge to fling myself across the table and hug him until he squeaked. "The sharks were good," he acknowledged, and not even too reluctantly. "Insane but good.""Yeah.And Ferdinand. I'll introduce you sometime."Frankie wrinkled his perfect nose. "I'll take my stingray as a shagreen wallet, thank you."I laughed.Not that I appreciated the thought of Ferdinand as an accessory,but I was just so happy to have my Frankie back.He read my mind and waved a cannoli-tipped finger at me. "Ah.You are not forgiven yet, madam."I subsided in my chair. "I'm sorry," I told him quietly. "I'm really really sorry. If I could go back and do any of it differently, the very first thing would be to tell you everything as it was happening.""Hmph." Frankie took a bite of cannoli, delicately wiped his mouth, had a sip of espresso,wiped his mouth. And examined the painted til ceiling.”

“Forty percent off. Come on, Ella, it's a sign.""Yeah. 'Stop.'" I took the sweater from his hands and holded it neatly into thirds. "Truth or Truth?"He propped a hip on the edge of the display table. "Shoot.""WHo are you dressing me for? I mean, really? The three nonrelated men playing any part whatsoever in my life right now are, and I will use your terms here, the spawn of Society Hell, dead as the spat, and queer as a football bat.""Very poetic.""Bite me.""Wrong man," Frankie drawled. "That would be the inclination of the hell spawn."I bared my teeth. "So,who,Frankie? Who is this for?" I waved the sweater. "I just don't get it.""I know,Grasshopper," he said sadly, "I know."I blinked at him. "Where-" That's as far as I got. Sadie had come out of the dressing room.”

“Frankie stayed off the stage for once, even when Daniel abandoned it for food. "I know when to sit it out," Frankie said, waving a chicken-laden fork first in his brother's direction and then toward the room. "Tonight I will let 'em watch and yearn.”

“I'd given the bare minimum of info-especially after-hypocrite that he is-Frankie made such dramatic gagging motions at my description of the Mustang that a passing shopper had asked if she should call 911.So I braced myself. "Dare."Frankie's brows went up. "Well. All right,then." He scanned the floor. "I dare you to stand up next to that mannequin over there,and list the five best Unrequited Love songs of all time.”

“He got her out of her jacket. In less than ten seconds." Frankie shook his head. "God help her if he tries to get her out of something else.""Oh,no.He wouldn't...You wouldn't let him...""For the record, I was kidding. But try to give them both just a little credit, if you would,please.”

“I might have stood there for a long time, hand halfway up like a religious statue,if Frankie hadn't gently pulled it down and held on.He stood behind me, vibrating with anger. "That is not an honorable man, Fiorella."Without thinking, I lifted my free hand toward my neck.But I was wearing a turtleneck and my hair was down. There was nothing to see,and all my fingertips found was the rigid peak under my jaw. "Don't do that," Frankie hissed. "Don't you dare. It's not the scar and it's abso-freakin-lutely not you."I dropped my hand. "Yeah,right." I sagged against him a little. For being skinny as he is, Frankie's really solid. "It's never me."I felt his sigh against my shoulder blades. "We are young; heartache to heartache we stand.""Let me guess," I said. "Old Korean proverb.""As if.Pat Benatar. 'Love is a Battlefield.'"I laughed.I had a feeling I might cry, but not there and then. "Thanks.""Don't mention it." Frankie wrapped his free arm around me so my chin rested on his forearm. "Enough,right? That was enough of Alex Bainbridge-for all of us. Promise?""Yeah.Promise?”