Archive of Our Own

It was the darndest thing.

The first time he saw her, Maria was pregnant. He had a little boy on the way and was taking his girl for a walk, stroller, bottle, extra diapers, dog and everything in tow.

“Frank”, his wife had said, from her spot on the bed. “You have a lot going on there”.

“We’ll be good. You just take a nap.” Frank winked and walked out of the apartment.

He didn’t exactly know why Max pulled and pulled on his leash towards that particular park. The one they liked was on the opposite direction, bigger, there was that coffee he liked, the spot on the grass Max liked to lie down in the sun or the shade, whichever, and the nice playground Lisa would play in one day.

Nevertheless, Max pulled, and pulled, and Frank had too much in his hands to fight the dog, so he just accepted, going towards the park they were not that familiar with.

He could hear the music those kids were always playing there already when Lisa dropped her toy and looked at him from inside her stroller.

“Dada”, she called, in that baby voice he just loved with all his heart, little hands reaching out for him.

“One second, baby, daddy’s gonna pick you up in a minute.”

They were almost there, it would be much easier to pick her up while parked.

“Dada”, she insisted and Frank smiled down at her, delighted when she smiled back, big and bright.

She knew how to say “daddy”. Knew how to say “mommy”, “grandma”, “grandpa”, “water”, “doggie”, “kitty”, her own name, “dino”, for some reason, and a bunch of other words. But she kept calling him “dada” when she wanted something, that first word to ever come out of her mouth, already aware that it pulled on his heart strings, he was incapable of denying her of anything when she said that.

“Ok, here we go”, he said when they entered the park and he found an empty bench and sat down. “Come here, sweetheart.”

He picked his daughter up, placing a kiss on her head, sitting down on the bench with her little arms around his neck, tiny feet on his thigh as she stood up, looking at all the dogs running behind him, giggling.

“Go ahead, buddy”, he told Max, removing his leash, watching as he pranced over to the other dogs, doing some recon.

He had been sitting there with Lisa for maybe five minutes, making faces and noises to make her laugh, when Max came back, a scarf in his mouth.

“Where did you get that?” he asked and the pitbull blinked at him. When Frank reached for it, he moved his head, out of Frank’s reach. “Max, stop. Give me that.”

Max turned around, wagging his tail, and Frank looked at the direction he was turned.

Holy shit.

There was a woman running - well, not really running, she was in heels - towards them, her coat tight around her, blonde hair flying behind and around her face. She was beautiful, holy, holy shit.

Frank was not a stranger to beautiful women. His wife was a 10, there was no doubt there, and the amount of women who smiled and approached him every time he was out with the baby was insane, but this one. He blinked when she smiled at him, a little out of breath.

“Hi”, she said, and he felt lighter, somehow. “That’s mine, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, sure”, he shook himself. “I’m sorry. Max, come on, give it back.”

The dog walked to her and let go of the scarf when she reached her hand, throwing his weight on her legs after, rubbing his head on her hand like a damn cat, which was strange. Max was never violent, he was as docile as he was when he was a pup, but this was not common, for him to get so cozy with a stranger, just like that.

“I’m sorry, he never does that”, Frank said, standing up, Lisa turning around and looking at Max.

“It’s ok, it’s probably my fault. I was playing with him over there”, she pointed to a bench a few feet away.

“I hope it’s not ruined. I can, I don’t know, get it dry cleaned for you.”

“Oh, no, don’t  be silly, it’s ok. He’s a sweetheart. Max, is it?”

“Yes. I’m Frank, by the way.”

She looked up from Max and to him. Damn it, he was used to bright eyes. Maria’s green ones were part of the reason he fell for her, his daughter has them, but these lady’s electric blues were something.

“I’m Karen”, she said, offering her hand for him to shake. “And who’s this beautiful lady?”

Smart kid, Lisa. She always knew when people were talking about her. She blinked and smiled at the woman - Karen.

“Go ahead, baby”, Frank encouraged, tickling her belly. “Tell her your name.”

“Lisa!”

Karen let out a laugh that punched Frank in the gut and waved her hand. “Well, hello, Lisa! Nice to meet you!”

“Hello!”

“Oh, she’s just precious.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not so precious when she’s screeching at two in the morning.”

Was he flirting with this woman?

She looked back at him and raised her brows, that smile ever present, moving a strand of hair out of her face and yes, yes he was flirting. Shit.

“I bet.”

She ended up sitting next to him on the bench, asking all kinds of questions about owning a pitbull.

“There was a robbery on the building next to mine a few weeks ago”, she explained when he asked why she was interested. “I think I’d feel safer with a dog. Not to mention, it would be good company, I think.”

Meaning she was single.

Which did not matter, he told himself. He was married, happily married, thank you very much.

“Well, you’re not wrong. Very loyal breed.”

He told her all about the perks and the responsibilities of being a dog guardian, shaking his head at how much of a fool Max was making of himself, resting his head on her knee, bringing sticks for her to throw, lying down at her feet.

The dog was positively infatuated.

After maybe ten minutes, Lisa put one little hand on each of his cheeks, calling his attention.

“Someone’s hungry”, he said, smiling at the reason he got up every morning.

“I actually should go, too.”

They both got up and Lisa, out of nowhere, threw her weight towards Karen, arms reaching for her.

“Do you wanna pick her up?” Frank asked while Karen smiled big, big, big at his daughter.

“Oh”, she said, her face contorting in some kind of struggled look. “I don’t know if I should. I’ve been outside all day, my hands are probably too dirty…”

“Up”, Lisa said, wiggling her fingers at her, and Frank raised his brows when Karen looked at him.

“Go ahead.”

Which was insane, this woman was a stranger, how the hell did he know she would never hurt Lisa? Still, he knew.

With a murmured “ok”, Karen reached out and placed her hands under Lisa’s arms, taking her from Frank and adjusting her in her arms.

“Oh, my, but you are such a beauty, aren’t you?” and then, to Frank. “You’re in trouble, mister. This one’s gonna be a knock out.”

“Yeah, I figured that the moment she first opened her eyes.”

“This never happens”, she said, bouncing the giggly girl. “I’m not a big hit with babies, usually.” 

“You probably remind her of her mother. She’s blonde, too.”

Frank picked Max’s collar up and asked if Karen knew about some place with good coffee around.

And he knew there was a nice bakery a block away, owned by three Cuban sisters, with excellent coffee. He lived in this neighborhood, for crying out loud. Why was he so keen on making conversation with this woman?

You’re happily married, Frank!, his conscience told him.

“Oh, I’m kinda new to the neighborhood”, she admitted. “I’ve been living off Starbucks, so far.”

“Nah, that can’t be. Come on, I know a good place. If”, he added, quickly. “That’s ok with you?”

Again, one more time, probably ten times too many, she smiled at him.

“Lead the way.”

.:.

Karen was sitting in her preferred table in that nice Cuban bakery she learned to love, her latte brewed to perfection, her sugary pastry sitting on it’s plate, her book opened in front of her. She would have to thank Frank, if she ever saw him again.

And boy, she hoped she would.

She had been trying to snuff out that cozy feeling inside her since she saw the ring around his finger, ten seconds after they met. A married man, with a beautiful child, another on the way, there was nothing there for her. And she should not be entertaining the “what if he wasn’t married” thoughts that would not leave her alone. It should have passed, it had been two weeks. He probably didn’t even remember her.

Her book was opened at the same page for twenty minutes, now, because she would start reading, but her thoughts would wander, straight to him.

Get it together, Karen.

After she shook herself and forced her mind to stay focused on the story, two pages had been turned when someone blocked her light.

“Didn’t think you’d steal my table when I told you about this place.”

Oh, shit. She looked up, already knowing it was him, that deep voice different from any other she had ever heard (the things it did to her insides were new, too).

“Oh, hi!”

Do you have to be so enthusiastic? Calm down, woman, she thought to herself.

The sight of him was something almost… Poetic. It was not just that he was handsome in that rugged, manly, hypnotic, exhilarating way. It was that strange sensation that flared up inside of her, like a force, a warmth, a certainty.

This man was supposed to be hers.  

“Hey yourself. So you like the place?”

“Oh, it’s the best, I love it here.”

“Good morning, Frankie”, said one of the sisters that owned the bakery, a beautiful woman, in her late forties, arriving with a cup for him and a fresh one for Karen, with her heavy Cuban accent. “Today, the coffee is on the house. You brought us a great, great custumer. She is writing article about us!”

Frank raised his brows and smiled with just one side of his mouth, looking from Cecilia to Karen and oh, my God, please stop looking so good. Please, please.

“That right?”

While shrugging and smiling back at him, Karen wondered if she was imagining it, the look he threw her way was not very… Innocent.

“I needed a story. Theirs is just very, very interesting.”

After thanking Cecilia, he asked if he could join her and she nodded, careful not to look too happy about it.

“Of course. Its, apparently, your table?”

The way he scrunched his nose after taking a sip of his coffee was too charming.

“It’s the one I like to sit on when I’m here.”

“Back of the place, which allows a clear views of the entrance, nobody can sit behind you, near the window, but with a wall that can block the view from outside…” she analyses. “Let me guess: cop?”   

He dropped his head to one side and looked at her through squinted eyes, that side smirk in place.

“You profiling me?”

Karen tried her best not to smile, but shrugged. “I’m a reporter. I guess it’s a habit. Sorry.”

“No apology necessary. And no, not a cop.”

She waited for him to provide his profession, raising her brows and he didn’t.

“Are you gonna keep me in suspense?”

“Aren’t you the one who’s good at profiling people?”

Ok. There was no way she was imagining it. He was flirting with her. And, before she could stop herself, Karen blinked slowly and picked her fresh cup of latte from the table, looking straight in his eyes, dropping her voice a bit.

“Ok. Challenge accepted.” 

She guessed wrong once more and he interrupted, asking if he had read anything of hers, and she refrained from telling him where she worked.

“If I have to guess, so do you.”

They sat there for a few minutes, talking, it was so easy to talk to him, there was a feeling inside her that was different from everything she had ever felt before. Like she should have a string tied around her ankle to keep her from floating away. She was light, carefree.

“So, no Lisa and Max today?” she asked an hour later, when they were both full of caffeine and the bakery was starting to get too crowded, the usual quiet of a Saturday morning giving place to the buzz of the couple of hours before lunch. He opened the door for her after they waved goodbye to Cecilia and they walked side by side, enjoying the sun.

“No, she’s with Maria. That’s my wife.”

And that fact stung more, way more, one hundred percent more than it should have.

“They’re having this ‘girls weekend’ or something. They’re with my mother in law in Connecticut until Monday. And Max is at his weekly bath appointment.”

“And now you’re feeling lonely, counting down the hours until they get back.”

She was trying to normalize his marriage. Because it was normal. More than normal, almost.

Frank pushed his elbow against her arm and she laughed.

“Stop doing that, ma’am.”

“Ma’am? Huh. Are you a Marine?”

She looked at him, but he kept looking ahead. His mouth did curve in a smirk, though.

“I was a Marine.”

“I knew it.”

They walked around for almost an hour. She went with him to pick Max up, told him that, as it turned out, her building had a “no pets” rule, so she couldn’t get a dog after all.

“You should… You know… Move” he suggested, too flirty, way too flirty, smiling, and there it was again, that light, bubbly feeling inside her, along with the one that made her feel like she had swallowed a magnet and he had the other end in his pocket.

Unlike the movies and magazine articles always suggested, Karen had not moved to New York looking for love. To be away from her parents, yes, away from the shadow of her incredible, amazing brother, who she loved to death, but was an incredibly tough act to follow, yes. To run from the narrow mindset of the people of her hometown, yes.

The real reason, however, was work. She had taken the job in two seconds, hoping to create a life of her own in the city, away from the pressure of her conservative, traditional family. Let them gossip about her lack of a husband behind her back and not in her presence, when they could offer unsolicited advice and words of “comfort”.

Thank God they weren’t there to watch as she became more and more infatuated with a married stranger with that kind of charm that would have her parents shuddering and throwing the “bad boy” cliche in her face, that same one she made a point to run from all her life.

The sad part was, when her friends asked her type, she could not describe it, because she hadn’t really met anyone, ever, who was exactly it. Not a character, not a famous person, not even someone she had dreamed up.

So far, after meeting him twice, she was pretty sure that Frank was it. Her type. Completely her type. Physically and in every other way that mattered.

And, of course, he was married with two kids and a dog.

Fantastic.

“Are you an assassin?” she asked, only half joking, while they walked and he let out a laugh. It would be kind of great if he was. That would mean she could go on and forget about him because he was dangerous and a criminal, and she was not in the business of fixing men.

“Do I look like an assassin?” he asked, looking at her.

“I don’t really know what assassins look like”, she said. “I just picture you with a gun, that’s all.”

“So you think I’m the violent kind.”

“I didn’t say that. Not everyone that can carry a gun is violent.”

“True.”

Eleven thirty came along and she told him she had to go. Karen didn’t know if she should hope she imagined the slight look of disappointment that crossed his face for a second.

“I’ll see you around, Frank.”

“See you, ma’am.”

Shaking her head and smiling, she got into the cab and closed the door.

“CIA spy?” she guessed through the rolled down window and he smiled at her.

“Close. But no.”

And then the driver took off into traffic and she was left feeling like she just had the most intense date of her life, smiling like a love sick teenager, her heart pounding, the brightness of the day seeming to dull a little.

But that was just the tinted car windows. Right?

.:.

He figured out where she worksed almost a month later, when he walked into the bakery and Sonia, the youngest of the sisters, showed him the article.

“It was, uh… Como se dice… Published, today. Ay, I’m so excited!”

He picked up the Bulletin copy and sat down to read it with his usual cup of coffee.

“Thank God for the Cubans”, the title read and he had to chuckle.

It was a nice piece about embracing immigrants, discovering independent business in one’s neighborhood, learning from the personal history of others and rejoicing in the fact that they could enjoy the food of other cultures. It was also a jab at the conservatives that thought anything non-American was not worth their time. Frank loved it.

And, right there under the title, her full name. Karen Page.

They had not exchanged last names, and he had been wondering about hers.

He was having an inner struggle, trying to convince himself that he should not look her up online. He wasn’t on social media, and, even if he was, he was married, married, happily married, why was he looking women up online anyway?

It lasted less than an hour, his resolve. He walked out of the bakery, newspaper folded under his arm and got into his car, heading to work.

“Morning, boss”, said his assistant, already holding a stack of files in his arms. “You have a meeting with Director Fury at ten.”

“Thanks, Ben. Those for me?”

“Yes, sir, I need your signature on these”, he said, putting a stack directly in front of his chair. “And you need to read these”. The other pile was placed to his right, by the picture of Maria and Lisa. “Do you need anything?”

“Not for now.”, Frank said, taking his coat off and sitting on his desk. He really disliked desk work, but the promotion paid well, and it wasn't like he didn’t get to go out in the field. It was just less frequent.  

When he sat down, Frank removed his gun from his holster, and it reminded him of Karen, telling him he looked like someone that carried a weapon.

He let out a sigh and started his computer up.

The name “Karen Page” was the first thing he typed that day. He spent a good five minutes looking at the few pictures of her, smiling, those blue eyes that seemed photoshopped making him feel guilty.

Guilty because of that notion that kept repeating itself inside his head, no matter how many times he shook it off.

This woman was meant to be his.

And then he closed the tab and decided not to think about her for the rest of the day.

This little attraction had gone long enough. 

.:.

It sounded like an excuse, but she really didn’t have time to think about dating. There was so much on her plate at work, and she kept accepting more, how was she going to think about going on dates and partying with the few friends she did have?

When she wasn’t working, she was exhausted, trying to keep her place clean enough to live in.

“This one is gonna be it, I’m telling you”, said Alissa, after reading Karen’s newest interview.

“You like it?”

“Honey. Get ready for a new office and a fatter paycheck. You’re gonna get that editor spot.”

“Oh, my God, no, don’t jinx it!” she said, getting the flash-drive back from her friend and coworker.

“Karen. Come on. You sat with the freaking king of Wakanda, T’Challa himself, and got one of the most candid interviews I have ever seen him give someone in America, ever. This is it. Your ticket to stardom.” 

“So you think Ellison will like it?”

“Babe, he’s gonna have to fight some sharks to keep you after this is published, you just wait.”

Karen smiled, sending a silent prayer to a God she wasn’t really sure she believed in that Alissa was right. Not that she didn’t like her job, but, after two years, she was ready for something more. And a bigger pay wouldn’t hurt, either.

She didn’t have to wonder for long. The same day the interview was published, she got calls from the New York Times, The Washington Post and, maybe the best one, Trish Talk.

It was local, it was not as big and international as the other two, but she was a fan. Trish Walker was one of the most honest journalists out there, and Karen would be delighted if she got to work with her.

It would hurt to leave the Bulletin, especially leaving Ellison’s guidance, but, if Trish offered her a job, it would be very hard to say no.

And he fought for her, Ellison. Did what he could, offered some stuff he couldn’t, but, in the end, Trish wanted her too much. And Karen wanted that job. More independence, more creative room, less corporate bullshit. A much, much bigger salary.

Two months later, she was getting a tour of the station, a producer walking her around, showing how everything worked and introducing her to her new colleagues.

“This is your office, we hope you like it.”

“Oh, it’s great”, she said, trying not to look overwhelmed at all the space she had for herself, now.

“Trish is down the hall from you. She’s coming back from Budapest today, I think she’ll stop by to say hi. Anyway. If you need anything, Karen, my door is open”, said the elegant, older woman.

“Thank you, so much.”

“Welcome to the team”, and then she left, closing her door, letting Karen alone so she could make herself at home in her new office.

Trish did come back, an hour or two later, while she was finishing coming up with an email, trying to set up an interview with whoever was in charge of Shield these days.

“Let’s get lunch”, Trish said after hugging her and expressing how happy she was to work with Karen. “I’m starving.”

Lunch ended up taking the whole afternoon. They ate and talked and Trish told her about an idea for a big piece, asking for her opinion. Karen felt important, validated.

“Anyway. Welcome to the team!” Trish said when her car stopped on the curb. “I’m so excited to work with you. We’re gonna tear this city apart, you and me.”

Karen walked back to her place in a daze of happiness. On the way, she walked past the Cuban bakery and waved at Cece.

It never failed. Walking past that place always, always reminded her of her mysterious friend, Frank, whose last name she didn’t even know, so she couldn’t even look him up. She could always ask the sisters, but, Karen figured, best if she didn’t know. Why did she want to look up a married man, anyway?

Thinking that it had been almost three months since she saw him last, Karen took a deep breath, unwilling to admit that she missed him, but doing it anyway, to herself, shaking the thought away, along with the feeling of contentment that came every time she remembered his face.

.:.

Frank stood there on the sidewalk, holding his daughter’s hand, looking inside the big window that showed him the inside of the bakery.

There she was, after, what, almost two years? Frank had, honestly, thought that the image he had of her was not accurate, but there she was, proving him wrong.

He hadn’t looked her up again. He already felt too guilty over feeling so attracted to her, that crazy attraction he had never felt in his life before, but when things started to get rocky between him and Maria and he started to fantasize about this virtual stranger’s smile and voice and eyes and a bunch of other things, he decided to not feed his mind’s eye.

It hadn’t worked. His marriage was going down the drain, and she, Karen, kept popping up in his mind, at odd periods of time. Sometimes he would spend weeks without thinking about her, sometimes he would see her everywhere he looked, sometimes he would miss her enough to consider looking her phone up and calling her.

What he would say, he didn’t know.

“Come on, daddy!” Said Lisa, pulling him when the light turned, and he had to take his eyes from the woman he had been daydreaming (and night dreaming, if he was being completely honest with himself) about for two years, now. “I want a pastelito!” continued the girl, pulling him with all the strenght a three year old could muster, holding her dinosaur toy on her other hand.

They walked in and she ran to the counter to look at the pastries through the display window.

“Stay close, baby”, he told her, turning his head towards Karen again, his heart starting to beat up a samba inside his chest when he found her looking at him.

Smiling at her - because he couldn’t help it - he took a glance at Lisa again, who was now behind the counter, in Elisa’s - the third sister - arms. The woman smiled at him, he pointed towards the back and she nodded.

“You mean to tell me” he started, trying to compose himself and not stutter or trip on his own feet. “That we’ve been sharing a table all this time, and I can’t even brag about it?”

Her answering smile was, he was glad to see, probably as excited as his. She beamed up at him, closing her book, raising her shoulders and then dropping them again.

“Hi, Frank”, she said, and it was like a gallon of warm water was poured on top of him. There it was, right on cue: the feeling that everything was right in the world, there was nothing that could touch him. He hadn’t imagined it.  

“Hello, ma’am.” 

“Am I occupying your table again?” she asked, a coy move of her face, and he wanted to ask her to do it again.

“If you have a spot for me, I’ll let it slide.”

Karen pointed to the vacant chair.

“Be my guest.”

He sat down and they looked at each other for five whole seconds before she blinked, smiling big again.

“I haven’t seen you in… What…”

“Two years, now”, he provided, happy to notice she hasn’t changed her perfume.

“Two years? Wow.”

“You’ve been up to a lot, huh?” he blurted out, mentally kicking himself when she looked at him, a question in her her eyes. “I’m a regular reader of yours.”

She raised her brows, surprised.

“Are you?”

They talked about her job, she told him about the Trish Talk offer after her interview with King T’Challa, her trips abroad covering other big stories, and he gobbled up every word she said, feeling like a fuse had been fixed inside him.

“Daddy, I got a pastelito!” His daughter said, suddenly right there by his side, pulling on his sleeve and he turned to her, smiling at the big treat she showed him.

“Wow! That’s a big one, princess!”

“Wait a minute”, Karen said while he picked the girl up and sat her on his leg. “Don’t tell me this young woman is Lisa!”

His daughter blinked up at her and Frank rushed to make an introduction.

“Honey, this is Karen, a friend of daddy’s.”

“Hello!” she said, always so polite and open, he loved that about her. “I’m Lisa.”

“Oh, my goodness, you’re so big! The last time I saw you, you were tiny!”

To his surprise, Lisa loved to know they have met before, and started showering Karen with questions about every topic she could come up with.

“And how uh… How’s… The new baby?” Karen asked after answering all of Lisa’s questions.

“Frank Jr”, he said, pulling his phone from his pocket. “He’s great, almost two, now.”

He showed her a picture of him on his phone and the face she made, of absolute fondness, not the fake but polite kind he learned to be used to, made him want to pull her chair closer to his.

“Oh, Frank, he’s just precious. This is very late, but congratulations!”

Again, as if they had just seen each other yesterday, they fell into easy conversation, like they had every single time, and Frank thought that it wasn’t so wrong to admit, given that he would not be married for much longer: he had the biggest crush on this woman.

Except that word felt wrong. It felt… Lacking. He was not a writer, like her, but if he had to describe it, it felt like a spell. Like something out of this world, or something musicians came up with to sell records. It felt impossible.

“Now, you know what’s very unfair?” she asked, supporting an elbow on the table and resting her face on her knuckles and his eyes wandered down her wrist, to her elbow and then back. “You know all of these things about me, you read my stories and you watch my interviews, and I don’t even know what you do for a living.”

“Daddy’s a special agent”, Lisa provided, not raising her eyes from the game she was playing on his phone. “At Field.”

Karen looked at her, surprised, and Frank let out a breath.

“Well, so much for being mysterious”, he breathed out and Karen smiled at him while Lisa lifted her face from the phone, looking up at him, her cheeks dusted with sugar from the pastelito she had eaten.

“I’m sorry, daddy, was that a secret?”, she asked in what she imagined was a whisper, but it was as loud as her normal voice.

“No, princess”, he replied, dusting the sugar off her face, kissing her forehead. “And it’s Shield.”

She didn’t care. Went back to her game and left the conversation to be picked up by the adults.

“Is that true?” Karen asked.

“Yes, ma’am. You’re looking at the Director of Operations of the New York division.”

Karen chuckled and shook her head, her eyes falling from his.

“What?”

“I was just at Shield the other day”, she said, her voice different, now, lower. Intimate, almost. “I had a meeting with Director Coulson.”

He looked at her, surprised.

“That was you?”

“You- You knew?”

“I knew he was meeting a journalist, didn’t know which”. He felt his mouth curve in a smile. “He used my office for it. I was in Chicago, for a meeting.”

It wasn’t a meeting. It was a recon mission in Washington, but that was classified.

Karen’s eyes were conspiratorial on his.

“Sorry I missed you.”

“Yeah”, he said, after a second. “Me too.”

He didn’t tell her about his divorce. It felt, for some reason, too early, he didn’t want her to think he was insinuating something.

This time, when they parted ways, he had her phone number and she had his, but nothing set for when they would see each other again.

But he was already thinking about an excuse to call her when she turned around to walk away.

.:.

The next time she heard from him, she was going to bed, and her phone vibrated on her bedside table.

“Just listened to your interview with the British MP”, read the text from Frank Castle and Karen’s heart beat a little faster inside her chest.

“And?” she replied.

“Did you keep his skin or did you make shoes out of it? The man was destroyed.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

They kept the easy back and forth for almost an hour, until, finally he asked if he was going to see her at the bakery the next morning - a Saturday.

She thought about his wife, and if he was just arranging a coffee with a friend or a coffee date with a woman.

And she thought about how he acted earlier that week. It was strange, he didn’t say anything about it, but he didn’t… Feel married.

Deciding fast, she typed her reply and hit send.

“You bet.”

.:.

When his skin touched hers for the first time, he shivered all over.

After their morning of coffee and easy conversation, they walked towards the park where they had first met, Max leading the way. Casually, she asked about his wife, and he was so happy she did, because that meant she was curious, that meant she had some sort of interest about it.

He told her about the divorce and she actually blushed.

“Oh, Frank, I’m sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t know.”

“It’s ok.”

As they walked, he told her about the struggles, about how confusing it was to love someone like he and Maria loved each other, but not being in love with each other anymore.

“Does that make sense?” he asked and she shrugged.

“I can’t really help you there, I’ve never been married.”

He wanted to ask if she had ever been in love, but it felt too soon. Somehow.

“I’m actually looking for an apartment”, he went on. “If you know about any good places, let me know.”

“Well”, she said, turning to him, placing a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, and he wanted to do that for her. “I’m moving, myself. Found a new place.”

“So you think I should get your old one?” he teased.

“No”, she smiled. “I mean in my new building. I guess there’s a few units vacant.”

Once again, he looked at her and she sustained it. He could hear his heart beating inside him.

“Yeah?”

She nodded.

“My old apartment doesn’t allow dogs, remember?”

Frank hummed an agreement, dropping his eyes from hers, looking at her lips instead.

“I’m moving next Friday”, she said, looking towards her shoes. “I could use a hand, actually. And you could see the building, see if it’s a good fit for you, the kids and Max here.”

“You got it, Miss Page”, he said after a beat.

When she hailed a cab, he wanted to ask her to stay and walk a little bit longer. But she had lunch with her parents, they were visiting from her hometown in Vermont.  

“Wish me luck”, she said before opening the door.

“Good luck”, he replied, stepping closer, pulling her by her waist to a hug. It felt like a hugging type of goodbye.

His cheek touched hers and he felt as if he had put a fork in an outlet, but it was pleasant, a good kind of shock, the kind that one could easily become addicted to.

“I’ll see you, Frank”, she said in his ear, looking at him that way, that wonderful way, and then turning around to get in the car.

“Holy shit”, he breathed to himself as she drove away, shaking his head, trying to get rid of the dazed feeling.

He had to kiss this woman. 

.:.

He showed up at nine in the morning of the moving day with coffee.

Soon, Karen was watching as he took leadership of the four movers putting her furniture inside the truck, musing that he was bossy, with a certain edge to him. It made her feel good inside.

On lunch time, they ordered take out for everyone, and the men thanked him when Frank asked if they liked Chinese. He payed for everything.

“You don’t have to do that, Frank.”

“I want to”, he said, very close to her face, after standing between her and the counter where her purse sat.

She showed him the common areas of the building after the movers job was done and she had payed them. It was significantly better than her previous building. She could afford it, now.

“You might’ve just gained a new neighbor, ma’am.”

She felt something purr inside her every time he called her that.

It was night, now, and he stayed, putting her furniture together while she read manuals and handed him tools.

“Shouldn’t your boyfriend be helping you with this stuff?” he asked and she smiled.

Smooth.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“No?”, he asked, side smile on his lips, the wires of her TV on his left hand. “Who was that guy on the phone a few hours ago, then?”

This was getting pretty serious, she thought, smiling coyly.

“Former boyfriend”, Karen said. “Current friend.”

He finished sorting out the cables and plugging her TV, but she watched his face closely while he mulled over that information.

“Stupid man”, was his conclusion, and she had to laugh. “Alright, it should work. Give it a try.”

She pressed the button on the remote and the TV turned on, the cable channels were ok. She breathed out a victory “yes” and he clapped once, already moving to the next task.

At two in the morning, she had wifi, a working tv, functioning kitchen, all her furniture was put together, all that needed to be sort out now were the many boxes with all her trinkets and clothes and decoration.

“Thank you, a million times, Frank, you’re a life savior”, she said when he picked up his coat, ready to leave. “I’ll talk to the landlord tomorrow, see if I can get an application for you.”

“Alright”, he said, walking towards the door, turning around towards her when he reached it, looking in her eyes that way he did. “If you need anything, just holla.”

She wanted to ask “anything?”, because there were a few more things she could see herself needing from him tonight, but she just pressed her lips together and nodded.

“Night, Karen.”

“Goodnight, Frank.”

He stood there with a hand on the door knob, looking at her, and she felt as if he could see everything, straight into her soul.

That magnet she felt like she had swallowed came to life inside her, and she took a step towards him at the same time he took one towards her. His hand was on the back of her neck and then his mouth was on top of hers, and she was shivering violently, hands closing in fists around the fabric of his shirt, opening her mouth to his, melting when he moaned, guiding her face, swiping his tongue against hers, bringing her closer, holding her against him.

Was it always supposed to feel like this, kissing someone? Because this was completely new. Never in her life has Karen experienced this kind of sensation, this kind of physical connection while being kissed, it had never felt this amazing.

Dropping his coat, he held her with both hands, pressing her against him, a hand on her hair and she was not disappointed. That kind of kiss she had come to think was just something she would experience in her dreams, where one is almost brutally handled but, at the same time, with care and a very particular kind of urgency, was there. She had it, finally.

Frank really was the personification of her type of man, that same one she could not explain to anyone.

They spent God knows how long like that, kissing each other with a hunger that betrayed just how long they both have been waiting for this, and she felt like something inside her was finally working right.

It’s him, accused a part of her brain.

When she detached her mouth from his, she was gasping, her lips were tingling, she was vibrating from the inside, her skin felt electric. Karen felt him smiling against her face, placing a chaste kiss on her cheek before closing his hand around her jaw, turning her to him again, and she went willingly.

Slowing down after a minute, he pressed his forehead against hers, breathing hard.

“I should go”, he said, and she lifted a hand to run the tip of her fingers on his lips.

“Ok”, she said, because she understood that this might be a bit complicated for him, what with his divorce being in the early stages.

“Ok”, he echoed, burying his face in the curve of her neck, tightening his arms around her and she did the same, hugging him back, hands roaming over his back in what she hoped was a soothing caress. “Ok, I’m going.”

He kissed her again while turning the key on the door, opening it to the empty hallway outside her new apartment. It was Karen’s turn to pull him back to her when he made to walk away, pressing a big one on him, nibbling on his lower lip lightly, saving the taste of him in her mind.

She smiled when he turned around, towards the elevator, shook his head vigorously and ran a hand on his face, walking away and pressing the button.

Frank stood there waiting for the elevator and she leaned on the door, watching him. When he looked her way after a few seconds, she smiled and chewed on her lower lip, sustaining his look.

Her breathing came harder again when he turned back towards her and took big, sure steps back to her door, grabbing her face in his big hand and kissing her again, stepping inside and closing the door behind them. Karen wrapped her arms around him, opening her mouth to his, letting out a whimper when his hand slid from her back and his fingers gripped her butt.

Nothing had, ever before, felt as right as this.

.:.

He had been happy when he married Maria. He had learned a whole new level of loving when Lisa was born, and again when he first held Frank Jr. in his arms for the first time.

Frank was no stranger to love, that wasn't the point here. What was new to him was this sense of… Completion.

She was not a quiet sleeper. Karen will start the night on her side, hugging the extra pillow to her, blond hair swept away from her face. By morning, the pillow would be on the floor, the covers would be tangled around her and Frank’s feet would be cold.

But he would not trade the nights by her side for anything.

She was sleeping on her stomach one morning and, to his surprise, he had a decent portion of the covers to himself. Turning to his right, Frank ran a hand up and down her back and she stirred, groaning.

He pulled her to him while she was still asleep, kissing the back of her head, turning her around and hugging her to his chest, breathing deep, every part of him relaxing.

“You’re the part that’s been missing of me”, he whispered against her hair, out of nowhere, knowing, deep inside his chest, in his skin and his bones, that  he had found her. The absolute, only, perfect love of his life. She was it. She was it.

She was it.

Hours later, when night was falling again, he felt her lips on his forehead and woke back up, alert, looking down at the boy sleeping in his arm, quietly.

“Maybe we should put this one to bed?” she asked, softly, caressing his face, walking away to get her coat off. Frank walked to the kid’s bedroom, where Lisa was passed out in her bed, dinosaur toys scattered all around her, and placed Frankie in his crib.

Walking back to the living room after covering Lisa and leaving a nightlight for them, Frank found her biting on an apple in the kitchen. Turning her to him, he hugged her and hid his face in her neck, and she caressed his back.

When he raised his head to kiss her, it felt like the world was righting itself around them. It happenned every time.

“Happy anniversary”, she whispered against his mouth, with a smile, and he groaned.

“Damnit. I was hoping you would forget.” A kiss, soft and loving. "Your present isn't here yet."

She frowned, mocking, and ran her hands on his face.

“Forget the day I met the love of my life? You must be crazy, Mr. Castle.”

They stood there in the kitchen, holding each other, feeling like the world slowed down as they did.

“I love you”, she whispered, her heart beating against his while he held her.

“I love you”, he whispered back.

They were it.

It was the darndest thing.