Chapter 260: I Love Him
"Pinkman?"
Frank called out as he entered the house and heard strange noises coming from the living room. He walked toward the sound, a hint of confusion in his voice.
"Ah!"
A startled female voice shrieked in response.
As Frank stepped into the room, he saw a girl hastily sitting up from the couch, her hair a mess. She scrambled to grab her clothes from the floor and shield her body.
Frank recognized her—she was the daughter of the landlord, the same girl who had shown them the house when they moved in.
"Uh… hey, Uncle Frank. You're back early," Pinkman poked his head up from behind the couch, looking awkward and sheepish.
Somehow, Pinkman had gotten involved with Jane.
"You two carry on," Frank muttered, equally embarrassed as he quickly turned and walked out of the house.
This was exactly why kids should move out when they're grown. Living with parents was just asking for these kinds of awkward moments.
When young couples get a little too comfortable at home, they tend to forget about their surroundings. If a parent walks in at the wrong time—it's not just a mood killer. It's a recipe for maximum awkwardness. For everyone.
A while later, Pinkman and the Jane emerged from the house. She looked shy and immediately darted into her room. Pinkman scratched his head, walked to the car, and got in.
"Ahem... I thought you'd be staying late at Mr. White's place," Pinkman tried to make conversation, clearly uncomfortable.
"Skyler drank too much, so we ended things early," Frank replied.
"Oh," Pinkman said, falling silent.
The silence stretched—awkward and heavy.
"Remember to use protection," Frank said after a pause.
"I did," Pinkman responded.
"Let's head inside."
The night passed uneventfully. The next day, Frank went to Hank's house as invited.
"Haha, come in, come in!"
Hank greeted him warmly at the door.
Inside, Marie was sitting on the couch, painting her toenails a bright purple. She paused in surprise when she saw Frank walk in.
"Beer or tea? Never mind, beer it is. Hold on—I'll grab a few bottles from the garage. I brewed them myself," Hank said, heading toward the back of the house.
Once he was gone, Marie leaned closer and whispered, "Why are you here?"
"Hank invited me to help out with the situation between you and Skyler," Frank said simply.
"You stole something, gave it to Skyler as a gift, and when she confronted you, you denied it," Frank added.
"I didn't do anything wrong. If she had just kept the gift, none of this would've happened," Marie argued.
"You know exactly how things are for Walt and Skyler right now," Frank said pointedly.
"Come on, give it a try!"
Hank returned with a few beers. The conversation ceased instantly.
The three of them drank and chatted. The mood was relaxed—they were all familiar with each other. In some ways, Frank was even closer to Hank than Walt was.
Not that Hank could ever know that.
Under the table, Marie's foot suddenly brushed against Frank's leg.
Frank shot her a glance.
She didn't look at him, just kept sipping her drink and chatting with Hank as if nothing had happened—though her foot continued its teasing motion.
"Hank's being transferred to the Texas border," Marie said. "Right near lawless Mexico—it's basically a nightmare. Those terrifying Mexican drug lords throw human heads over the fence, especially those cartel bosses."
"Exactly why they picked me. I'm tough as nails!" Hank laughed, flexing his biceps.
But Frank could see that Hank's smile didn't reach his eyes.
"Why not D.C.? If it were Washington, I could go with you. Grind it out for a few years and we'd be living in a lovely Georgetown condo," Marie muttered.
Before she could say more, Hank's phone rang.
"Excuse me," Hank said after glancing at the screen. He got up and went into the kitchen to take the call.
"Something came up. We'll drink together another time," he said when he returned.
"Babe, I need to stop by the office." He grabbed his coat and kissed Marie goodbye.
"I'll head out too," Frank said, standing up.
"No, no—stay a while! Drink a few more bottles of my special brew," Hank insisted.
And then he was gone.
As soon as the door shut, Marie grabbed Frank by the collar, shoved him onto the couch, and straddled him.
"Wait! Hold on!" Frank pushed her back.
"What's wrong?" Marie murmured, pressing in close.
"This isn't going to work. We can't be together. I'm not going to marry you," Frank said.
"Marry me? I never said I wanted to marry you," Marie replied, puzzled.
"Then what are you—?"
"Don't overthink it," she whispered. "I love Hank. I'm not divorcing him."
Then she kissed Frank.
Marie and Hank had been married for nearly ten years. Divorce had never even crossed her mind.
What she felt for Frank was similar to what Frank felt for her—just mutual attraction. Nothing more. The idea of a relationship, let alone marriage, was out of the question.
As Marie continued to seduce him, Frank gave in. He flipped her over and took charge—what followed was a storm of passion.
"Hank leaves for Texas next week. He won't be home. You can come by often," Marie whispered afterward, resting on Frank's chest.
"I'm leaving in two weeks myself. Going back to Chicago," Frank said.
"Then make sure you spend these two weeks with me," Marie murmured, tracing circles on his chest with her fingers.
"You should talk to Skyler," Frank said suddenly.
"I didn't do anything wrong," Marie replied stubbornly, clearly reluctant.
"This isn't about right or wrong," Frank said gently. "Try to understand what she's going through. You weren't there last night. You didn't see how drunk she got, or how much pressure she's under."
"You're her sister. Her support. Just say sorry. Meet her halfway," he urged.
Frank didn't leave Hank's house until nightfall.
That weekend, Marie took the initiative and went to Walter's home to talk to Skyler. No one knew what was said between the two sisters, but in the end, they embraced and cried, finally reconciling.