After the contentious custody battle, Frank & Mary go on with their lives as usual. But it isn't until an eventful night at Ferg's that Frank starts to wonder if maybe his life might be missing something. Now that his niece has a normal life, maybe...
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Deleted Scene is briefly discussed:
Frank was hurting the next morning. He was so hungover. Mary had come back home from Roberta's at noon like she was supposed to, but it still hadn't been enough time for Frank to sleep off his pounding headache. To add insult to his own self-inflicted injury, Frank was also waking up alone.
Well, not technically alone. Fred always slept on Mary's bed, but their two new cats, renamed Einstein and Bob, were sleeping on the empty pillow beside him. Judging him.
Apparently, getting screamed at and doused with two, ice cold, slushy margaritas wasn't conducive to getting lucky. He had deserved it though, he really had. Frank winced remembering the stupid threesome comment he'd made to Alice at Ferg's. He had been drunk and had taken his teasing too far, he hadn't thought it through. He had just been trying to get a reaction out of Alice for old time's sake. And well...he had been very successful.
Frank felt like such an ass. The horrified look on the new girl's face still haunted him the next morning and made his chest hurt. What had Alice said her cousin's name was again? Joan? Jerry? Fuck, he couldn't remember. But, holy shit, was she ever pretty. It was probably for the best; he figured he didn't stand a chance with her anyway. Especially now.
Frank had dreamt about those magnetic blue eyes of hers all night long. Her boobs, too, for that matter, but he didn't really have a say in where his mind went when he slept. But Frank had to admit, from what he remembered, the new girl's body wasn't a terrible image to dream about. He had seen her cousin naked a million years ago, and as drunk as he had been, he would wager that the two women definitely shared a very favourable family resemblance. But comparing the two women made him feel like a bigger asshole. No wonder he struck out.
It had been a very long time since Frank had fantasized about a woman, he was starting to wonder if maybe he had made her up. It would be easier for Frank to accept being rejected, if maybe she wasn't as hot as he remembered.
As usual, Frank took comfort in lying to himself. Convincing his hungover mind that he had probably built her up too much the night before. Maybe he had been a lot drunker than he originally thought and Alice's cousin's hotness was a serious case of beer goggles. He hoped that was the case, because he was trying his hardest to forget how missing out on a chance to talk to her had really hurt his ego. As far as women were concerned, Frank was used to getting what he wanted. It was only a matter of time, especially at a place like Ferg's.
His mind kept drifting back to the new girl's eyes. Fuck, he should have talked to her when he had the chance. What was he thinking?
Frank still didn't understand that look she'd given him before she'd left the bar with Alice. It had been unnerving and had sent a chill down his spine that night and even again this morning, just remembering it. It was almost like she had seen past all of his bullshit and had been looking directly at the real him. It had felt so raw and personal, like she could grab him with a look like some kind of superhero. He wasn't sure if he had ever felt anything like it. For a second he was stone cold sober as he looked into her eyes from across the bar.
