The Promise
Page 157

I aimed my eyes into the kitchen and saw my man in the gutted space, its walls newly painted butter yellow, laying tile.
“I’m uncertain how me wanting new towels, a floor, and backsplashes translated into you gutting the entire kitchen,” I remarked, popping the tab on my Fanta.
“Is that you askin’ me why I’m doin’ something?”
I grinned. “Yeah.”
He looked from the tile he’d just laid to me. “You get a new kitchen. Why do you wanna know why I’m givin’ it to you?”
“Because I don’t have a stove right now and I like havin’ a stove.”
Ben looked back to what he was doing, saying, “You’ll have a stove in about a week.”
“A week is a long time,” I noted.
“A week is a week,” he replied.
“True enough,” I muttered, smiling. “A week is a week.”
“You done bustin’ my chops?” Benny asked, setting in another tile.
“Maybe.”
“Whatever,” he murmured, grinning at the tile, being my awesome Benny because I was a woman who busted her man’s chops and he was a man who liked it.
“You wanna know what Tandy said?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he answered.
“The board officially promoted Travis Berger from acting CEO to just plain CEO, seein’ as he did so well with all that crap that went down after Tenrix bein’ bad was outed.”
“And I give a shit about that because…?” Ben queried.
I grinned at the lip of my can and replied, “Just an FYI,” before I took a sip.
“What did Tandy say about the job?”
“Seein’ as it pays ten grand more a year and I told her I talked my new bosses into payin’ her moving expenses because she was that good of an assistant, she said she’d take it.”
Benny’s eyes came to me and I found, not for the first time, that I was right: I wasn’t used to their beauty. I’d never get used to their beauty. Especially not when they looked like that—happy in a way that I knew he was happy for me.
“Good news, baby,” he said softly.
“Yeah,” I replied just as softly. “Team Frankie and Tandy are gonna kick ass at our new jobs in Chicago.”
He smiled at me.
No. I’d never get used to getting all that goodness from Benny Bianchi.
“We’ll celebrate tonight. Come in and keep me company in the kitchen,” he invited on an order.
“That I can do,” I told him, but only because I liked keeping him company in his kitchen. “Now, what I’m gonna do is leave you to do what you seem to have to do. I’m goin’ over to bug Mrs. Zambino.”
“Take Gus with you. He’s makin’ me feel guilty.”
I looked down at Gus, who did indeed look like he was pining for his daddy, even if his daddy was only six feet away.
I looked back at Benny. “You got it, capo.”
Ben gave me a look, but he did it with his lips twitching.
I gave him a grin and informed him, “You can turn the music back up now.” Then I patted my thigh and called my dog as I moved to the front door. Gus followed me, no longer pining for Daddy. He was panting and had a doggie smile on his face, happy he was getting time with Mommy.
The music ratcheted high. I grinned as I found my cardigan, pulled it on, put the leash on Gus, and we headed out the door and across the street. I walked up Mrs. Zambino’s stoop and Gus waddled up beside me.
Once there, I juggled the leash and my hold on my can of pop and knocked on the door.
She opened it two seconds later and a half second after that, demanded to know, “What are you and that mongrel doing over here?”
I took in her perfectly coifed hair and made a mental note to ask where she got her sweater so I could get the same exact one before I replied, “We’ve come for a visit.”
“I thought Benny was puttin’ in a new kitchen for you,” she noted.
“He is,” I confirmed.
“And why aren’t you helpin’ him?”
I looked down at my awesome jeans, my fabulous top, my stylish cardie, and my magnificent high-heeled boots, then I looked at her.
“Do I look like a woman who lays tile?”
“He should have help,” she informed me.
“Manny’s gonna come over when he does the cupboards and stuff,” I informed her.
“He’s doin’ something for you, Francesca.”
“Yes, and it’s my job to look amazing to remind him why, thus…” I swept a hand down my front and let that speak the rest for me.
She rolled her eyes.
“Are you gonna let us in?” I asked.
“I suppose,” she muttered irritably and stepped aside, but did this still muttering. “You get any of that grape soda on my furniture, you’re payin’ for the cleaning.”
“I’ll be careful, Mrs. Zambino,” I said as we moved in.
We got settled in her living room. I let Gus off his leash and he went directly to Mrs. Zambino’s feet and laid on them.
She said not one word about this, mostly because she might call him “the mongrel,” but she adored him. I knew this because she came over in the mornings and demanded he go on her power walks with her.
She did this saying, “Someone has to keep that mongrel in shape,” even though she knew Benny and/or I took him on at least three walks a day.
Instead of saying something about Gus, she pierced me with her gaze. “I see Benny hasn’t put a ring on your finger.”
“Not yet.”
“He should see to that. Livin’ together without God’s sanction. Now that Manny has finally made an honest woman of his Sela, Theresa’s lightin’ candle after candle in hopes of savin’ your souls.”
I grinned at her because of her totally-didn’t-mean-it surly words and at the reminder of Manny and Sela’s awesome wedding.
I did this before I suggested, “Why don’t you do me a favor and tell him to get on that?”
She looked to her knees, murmuring, “I don’t want to disturb his work in your kitchen.”
This meant she was happy giving me shit, but she wasn’t about to give the same to Benny Bianchi. I figured this was not because she was afraid of Benny. She wasn’t afraid of anything. This was because she didn’t want to do anything that might make him stop fixing stuff around her house when it broke, which didn’t happen frequently, but her house was old so it happened regularly.