Franco (Bright Side, #3)

by Kim Holden

A light layer of fog is hanging low. I love the sun, but it's mornings like this that the beach feels intimate and protected from the rest of the world. The separateness and security it offers always makes me more contemplative. Introspection is strong under cloud cover.

she's also silly and fun and playful and owns it without a shred of embarrassment. Which is vital to surviving friendship with me.

The banter before, during, and after dinner is endless. Her wit is always sharp, but it's in rare form tonight. Twice we laughed so hard it brought tears to our eyes and the attention of everyone within twenty feet of us. I wasn't sorry, not even a little bit. That kind of laughter is a gift.

"I had a close friend who had cancer. She went through chemo and lost her hair." I shrug, I always avoid this story because people's reaction is usually to tell me what a good guy I am for the act. It wasn't about being a good guy, it was about supporting someone who was self-conscious about losing her hair. It was about her, not me. "She never complained but I knew losing her hair bothered her. I didn't want her to be alone in it." Gem's quiet. No, You're a great guy. No, That was nice of you. And when she asks, "How is she now?" I want to hug her because she gets it. It was about my friend, not me.

"Cancer is a bloody fucking bastard. It always comes for the good ones first."

There are some people in life that you can vent to, or pour out sadness to, or voice frustration to, and they readily and willingly absorb it for the sole purpose of ridding you of it. They're the same people who can immediately replace that negativity with their light. Their presence gives you the power to purge the bad and embrace the good. It's rare. I've only known a few people in my life who are that way.

Some people skim life and some people read so closely they see the things others don't. That's where the beauty lies, in between the lines, in the details. The story within the story.

Feelings are like physics. Force generated creates an equal and opposite reaction. Intense passion put into something creates a result equally as passionate.

Everyone deserves to falter in crisis, vulnerability is part of what makes us human. It's whether we let the crisis swallow us whole, that defines us.

I'm reminded that we all have issues and we all do our best to overcome them. Hold close the peeps you love while you're going through your shit, that's all any of us can do.

"Gem, look at me." She does, and she's not on the verge of tears, thank God. It's not that kind of fear. This is fear that's based on logical and rational thought. The type of fear that confronts head on, you don't hide from it.

"I've always been a people pleaser. I don't like to let anyone down," she admits. "That sounds stressful. And tiring as fuck. And also a little like some kind of a damn superhero. You don't have to be a superhero, Gem. Be the best person you can be. Be generous in spirit and action. Be kind. Aside from that, let it go. You can't please everyone."

Disappointment is fucking heavy, like wearing lead shoes and a suit made of iron.

I've never been like this; my friendships are always easy, always laid-back. That's where the sincerity shines. But I can't stop myself, it's a compulsion to soothe her. A compulsion to make her happy. A compulsion to make everything better.

"I overthink and overcomplicate, it's how I adult. It's a must. Otherwise, chaos would take over, and I'd wake up one day in Peru raising alpacas and selling their wool for beer money or some shit."

The crowd was fierce. We were fiercer. That's the perfect storm.

I open my eyes, and despite her crying, or maybe because of it, she's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Vulnerability opens up the heart, and hers is as big as it is radiant. She fucking glows from the inside out. I'm so lucky. We're so lucky.

"Did you tell her you love her?" he asks. It's not that Gus doesn't have the softest heart of anyone I know, but a year ago, we wouldn't have been having this conversation. Being in love has changed him. Made him more open.

"Life is only as complicated as you make it.

Assumptions are the fucking antichrist and only contribute to disaster in my experience. They're shit stirrers, not problem solvers."

Maybe I had wildly unrealistic expectations, but the monthly disappointment was a foe I gravely underestimated. It's a beast that tore me to shreds and left me weaker in spirit each time. I have a new respect for women who battle infertility—they're warriors Franco, with fortitude forged out of steel. Wanting a child so badly and not being able to conceive feels like punishment. Like the universe is denying my worthiness to mother a child. It's fucking hell. Couple that with the fear that my lady parts are a grenade set to go off soon and it's too much. I can't take disappointment when it comes with fear as a conspirator." Growing up, my mom always told us kids we could be anything we wanted to be. Do anything we wanted to do. Looking at her shattered in front of me, I know now, that's not true. I tried. She tried. We tried. I couldn't do what I wanted to do. We couldn't do what she wanted to do.

I'm hers. To confide in. To vent to. To celebrate with. To grow with. To show her strengths. To bear her vulnerabilities. To laugh with. To cry with. To love. And to be loved by. I'm hers. She snuggles into me and she feels different than past times I've held her like this. She's my other half. Like for the first time in my life, I know what being unquestionably whole feels like. And I realize that the notion that my heart beats for me alone is a lie. It beats for us.

There's something insanely humanizing about appreciating the little things, so much untainted happiness to be found there. The world would be a better place if more people went apeshit over things like sunshine.

The joy on her face and in her big toothy smile was so innocent, so pure. That's one of my favorite things about Gemma, she doesn't hide from her emotions. Good or bad, she lives in them, confronts them, accepts them, and feels them bone deep. It's one of the reasons her charisma is like the polestar. It's subtle, but undeniable in its force. She's a genuinely relatable and likable woman, what you see is what you get, and people dig it. I'm batshit for it.

I tell her I love her. And then I tell her again. And again. Until I lose count. She tells me she loves me. Over and over. Until I lose count. Love in all its incantations, promises made with flesh and bone and word and intent. That was our night. That is our future. I fucking love this woman.

Gus will be a righteous godfather.