During one of Frankie's missions he had taken one too many shots, getting in one of his teammates rooms and sleeping with her. When he came home he had the intentions of telling you, explaining, making it up to you but the news got to you first. There was a fight, as it was expected. You were hurt, disappointed and angry. You said you'd forgive him but deep down you both knew it was gonna take a long time for you to trust or even look at him the same way again.

You two sat at the breakfast table. You had made chilaquiles with eggs and coffee. You loved him, you knew that, but there was always a part of you that just couldn't see him the same.

"You look beautiful today, baby." Frankie broke the silence, a weak attempt at making conversation.