All day, I’m off-kilter, emotionally. Frankie notices it immediately in the car when I fail to laugh at his jokes, which usually have me smiling and cackling along with him. But the whole ride I’m a moment behind, silent when I should be laughing, staring off into space when I should be paying attention to him.
“You okay, Iris?” he asks, his voice soft when we pull into our usual parking spot at Lupa.
Honestly, it’s his use of my real name that really gets my attention.
“Hmm?” I ask, blinking my eyes back into focus as I look at him, my hand on the handle to my door.
“You’re…not yourself,” he says with a frown. He reaches a hand out slowly, but it doesn’t get far. He drops it down between us when he realizes what he’s doing.
“Should I be myself, Frank?” I say with a little sigh, letti
