𝗙𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗕𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗩𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗮 𝗨𝗻𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗲.
𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐞
I am the judge, the jury, and the executioner.
Francesca "Frank" Monroe. One of the most successful criminal defense attorneys in the history of Illinois. The woman everyon...
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Sleeping like a baby after last night's emotional train wreck? Yeah, that had to be some kind of twisted Christmas miracle.
I almost laughed at the thought. What a joke.
"Frankie?" Noah's voice came from the other side of the door just as I stretched my limbs, shaking off sleep.
I shot up instantly, hoping he looked better than he had when I left him last night. Please let him be okay. "Come in, baby. I'm up."
Noah walked in with Sawyer behind him, but the second I saw his face, the tension in my chest loosened. He was smiling. A real, unforced, warm smile. The kind I hadn't seen in too long. And just like that, relief crashed over me, heavy and overwhelming.
He walked over to my side of the bed and sat next to me while Sawyer leaned against the doorway.
"I'm sorry about—" Noah started, but I cut him off, pulling him into a hug before he could even finish.
"Don't, baby," I said softly. "We were all at our breaking point last night. We don't get to blame each other for that. And we sure as hell don't apologize for it." I pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. "We love each other. That's how we fix each other."
His smile stretched even wider, and just like that, my morning felt lighter. Brighter.
"You guys wanna join me for breakfast?" Sawyer asked. "Olivia's not here, so I had to improvise."
Noah nudged me playfully, grinning.
"Alright, alright!"* I said, shaking my head. "Go ahead, I'll change and be right there."
It was strange, feeling new after nearly falling apart the night before. Like somehow, against all odds, the storm had passed, and the sun was rising again.
I threw on a pair of white sweatpants and a matching hoodie, slipping into my favorite black Nike Huaraches before heading downstairs. For the first time in a long time, I felt ready for the day.
Walking into the kitchen, I found Sawyer and Noah sitting at the table, both cradling bowls of cereal and milk. I stopped dead in my tracks, snorting. "This is the breakfast you were so proud of?"
Sawyer shrugged, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "I never said I was a Michelin-star chef."
Noah laughed but then glanced at Sawyer, who was suddenly looking grumpy. "I'm enjoying my breakfast," he said, like he had to defend himself.
That did it. I lost it, bursting into laughter so hard I had to grip the counter to keep myself upright.
Irving knocked before stepping inside the kitchen. "Boss, there's a delivery for you."
