Frank stayed over for the second night in a row. This time there were no interruptions by early morning phone calls. I loved waking up next to him; I hoped it did become a habit.
Over breakfast, Frank updated me on the latest progress with the blackmail case against Erik Raoul. Erin had secured a search warrant for Erik's apartment. While Danny was working the hostage situation, Detective Maria Baez, along with two uniformed officers, had searched the apartment, confiscating Erik's laptop. Numerous emails were discovered between Erik and twenty-five-year-old woman by the name of Juliet Aamond, a part-time student enrolled at the same drama school as Erik. The emails contained information about the blackmail. According to Frank, Miss Aamond had devised the whole scheme; they were to share in the blackmail money. She had been arrested. After consulting with their court-appointed attorney, she and Erik had pled no contest — in the hope of a lighter sentence. Erin made them no such promise. The most shocking revelation of all was that Miss Aamond was the woman in the photo, the woman Frank supposedly had attacked, beaten, and raped. She had allowed — insisted — that Erik beat her up so that the photograph appeared legitimate.
I was overwhelmed — and angered — by that knowledge. How could anyone do such a thing? I had lost sleep over this young woman, the image of her, the pain she had endured at the fists of some violent creature, whether her wounds would heal, both physically and emotionally. And it had all been planned and carried out for money.
"Welcome to the real world of greed, evil, corruption," Frank said.
"I don't like that world," I replied. "I will leave it to you, and Danny, and Jamie, and Erin to fight, while I escape into my fantasy world of fiction, love, and romance."
"Love and romance exist in the real world, Nicole. Aren't we proof of it?" Frank reached across the table for my hand.
"Yes, we are." I stood, allowing our hands to remain locked as I stepped around the table to where Frank sat. "We are the perfect example of it."
Frank pushed his chair away from the table, pulled me into his lap.
"Remind me to send Sybil Rosseni a thank-you note attached to several dozen roses for introducing us."
"And allow her to gloat! Never!" I teased as I wrapped my arms around Frank's neck.
Frank began untying my short robe just as his phone rang.
"If that's Garrett, he's fired!"
"Could I have the honor?" I asked, moving off Frank's lap so he could reach for his phone.
I listened to Frank's side of the conversation while I cleared the table and poured myself a fresh cup of coffee.
Yes, Pop. I know it's the second morning I haven't been home when you got up, and that my bed hasn't been slept in. Are you keeping count, marking it on the kitchen chalkboard or something? We'll discuss it tonight. And don't bother to go to the cleaners today. I'll stop on my way to the office. I'm in need of a fresh suit. I'm not discussing my shorts with you, Pop. Goodbye, Pop. Yes, I will be home tonight. Yes, for dinner. I'm hanging up now. Love you, Pop.
Shaking his head, he asked, "Do they ever stop being parents regardless of our age?"
"Strange question coming from you. I did recently witness you parenting—" I cleared my throat, then continued, "scolding, your forty-year-old daughter concerning her choice of men."
"It's not the same thing!"
"Of course it is. And you'll still be doing the same thing twenty years from now."
Frank rolled his eyes. "Twenty years from now? I don't want to even think about that."
"Just think, Frank. You'll be a great-grandfather by then."
"Thanks. You really know how to make a guy feel old, don't you?"
"Now, Frank," I replied, snuggling up next to him and wrapping my arms around him. "Did I make you feel old last night? Or this morning?"
"No. That you did not. Which reminds me, where was I when Pop called?" He reached for my robe.
"I think you were about to be late for the office."
Frank sighed. "I think you're right. And Lord knows I'd hear about it from Garrett."
He kissed me. "Thanks for dinner and breakfast. And everything in between, including the morning shower."
"My pleasure. All of it. Especially the in-between. So, I won't see you tonight?"
"No. I better stay home with Pop. Haven't seen much of him lately. And get clean underwear." Frank smiled his big smile.
Laughing, I replied, "About that. Just so you know, there are empty drawers in my bedroom. As well as closet space."
"Good to know. I'll keep it in mind. Gotta go and conquer some of that evil in the world. Call you later. I love you."
"Umm, I have a lot of writing to finish up today. Could you please conquer that evil from your office?"
"I'll do my best."
I spent the morning and part of the afternoon completing my manuscript and sent it off to Kerri. I was relieved to have it done and out of the way.
I called Sybil, updated her on Erik Raoul and his partner, and Frank. I even passed on Frank's thank you, adding my own. She gloated. I allowed her. She deserved it. She had finally set me up with Mr. Right. We made plans to meet for lunch the next day. We were going to check out a new place she had read about that had excellent reviews. While I loved the owner of The Sandwiche Shoppe and hated to not give him our business, I just wasn't ready to go back there. Someday soon, perhaps, but not right away.
So far the blackmail had not made the news. When I questioned Frank about that, he said, "All I can say is, once in a while my Chief of Staff actually earns his large salary."
I had no idea of the size of Garrett Moore's salary, but as far as I was concerned, the man deserved a raise. I had little doubt, though, that the hostage situation, and the vast news coverage it received, helped.
I didn't see Frank again until late Thursday night. He had a business dinner to attend that evening, and came over afterward, with a bag.
"Are you sure about this, Nicole?" He asked, before unpacking the contents of the bag and placing them in an empty drawer of my bedroom chest.
"I'm sure. Very sure."
Friday night Frank and his dad hosted their monthly Poker night. He said as much as he'd like to see me afterward, he'd be much too wasted to leave the house but did want to take me out for dinner Saturday night, that he still owed me one.
"You mean a real date, where you actually come to my house and pick me up and everything?"
"I think it's time, don't you? After all, we've had sex, spent the night together, even had a dirty weekend away, confessed our love to one another, seems like it might be time to have that first real date."
"I think it is, Frank. I think it is."
We had a beautiful evening at a quiet, romantic Italian restaurant. I even bought a new dress for the occasion. Though Frank was quite fond of the black dress, I thought it time for a new one. He liked the new one equally as well, if not better, and enjoyed getting me out of it later that night.
The next morning he left early, saying he would see me later in the day. The day had finally come that I looked forward to, but also dreaded — Sunday dinner with the Reagan family.