The Promise
Page 160

Cal’s back was to them. He had a beer in hand and his lips curved up at something Sal was saying.
There you go. Cal had finally settled into happiness.
And that settled happily in my soul.
“News from the ’burg: Keirry’s boy’s dad is now very taken,” Cheryl told me, and I looked to her.
“Yeah?”
“Colt and Feb scenario,” she explained. “Apparently, he fell for a girl years ago. They broke up, now they’re back together and blissfully happy.”
“Cool for him,” I said.
“Another one bites the dust,” she replied.
I smiled at her but caught sight of Eva out of the corner of my eye, launching herself my way and moved just in time to catch her.
“I work in construction,” Cat stated, cottoning on to what Cheryl did not say but still did. “Lotta guys I could introduce you to.”
“I live in Indiana,” Cheryl pointed out.
Cat gave Cheryl a once-over, then replied, “They find total losers. Women…” She shook her head. “You would not believe. I think they’d do long-distance in order to get a live one.”
“Haul out your cell, bitch, and program my number,” Cheryl ordered.
Violet looked to me and grinned.
I grinned back.
After doing that, my gaze wandered from Violet to across the room.
There, I saw Benny standing with Mrs. Zambino and half of her bowling posse. It looked like they were all talking at once, but Mrs. Zambino had a death grip on Benny’s arm, even though it appeared she was telling off one of her minions and doing it testily.
But my man was looking at me.
I did my best to hold my active sister safe against me, even as I lifted my fingers to my lips and blew him a kiss.
He caught it and I knew this because, from all the way across the room, I saw his beautiful eyes smile.
Or maybe I didn’t see it.
But I knew it happened because I felt it.
Strange how he could do that. Me sitting with my girls, surrounded by people I love, celebrating my engagement to the best man in the world, holding my baby sister against me, all of that a promise fulfilled, and he did it again.
With just a look and a feeling.
Making another promise come true.
* * * * *
I signed the room service bill and, staring at it, suddenly froze.
There it was. In black ink.
Francesca Bianchi.
I came unfrozen and I did this in order to smile.
Huge.
I handed the bill to the staff member with his tip. He dipped his chin and walked out the door. I opened it behind him and resecured the “Do Not Disturb” sign.
“Jesus, Frankie, you answered the door?” Ben growled, and I turned to watch him walk in, towel around his hips.
Eyes to the prize.
There was my prize. Mine to keep for always.
Benny.
“You were in the bathroom,” I pointed out.
“Yeah, for two minutes.”
“I need Champagne.”
“And you couldn’t wait two minutes?”
“No. And it’s rude to make someone wait outside a door for two minutes, not to mention he might have walked away.”
“You’re in a nightie,” Ben pointed out.
“I’m sure he’s seen women in less,” I returned, then noted, “You’re in a towel.”
“I’m a guy. Was he a guy?”
“Yes.”
His eyes moved the length of me in my little, lacy, clingy, ivory nightie.
“Christ,” he muttered, going to the Champagne.
I looked to the windows.
Vi was right.
Virgin Gorda was awesome.
Or at least it looked that way.
Maybe, before the end of our two-week honeymoon, Ben and I would see more of it than what we could see from our hotel room window.
Though, I wasn’t holding much hope for that since we’d already been there four days and we hadn’t left our room.
I heard the Champagne cork pop and looked to my husband.
He was looking at me.
“You wanna dirty a glass?” he asked, holding the bottle by its neck.
“No way,” I answered.
He grinned at me.
Then he stalked me.
I retreated.
Straight to the bed.
* * * * *
Ben handed the menu to the waiter and looked across the table at his wife.
Big hair. Dark makeup. Beauty by candlelight.
Then he looked down at her full glass of Champagne, something she hadn’t touched in all the time since the waiter put it in front of her, they looked over their menus, the waiter came back, and they ordered.
“Not gonna try to break the record for fastest single-person consumption of a bottle of Champagne tonight?” he teased.
She looked into his eyes and smiled that smile he liked so f**king much.
But this time, she did have a secret.
A secret she wasn’t keeping.
He knew this when she replied, “No, seein’ as I can’t drink for a while ’cause I’m carrying your baby.”
Benny went still.
She kept talking.
“When you see the waiter, can you order me a virgin Bellini, baby?”
Benny didn’t answer.
“Benny?” she called.
He didn’t move or speak. He just sat frozen in his chair, staring at his Frankie.
“Honey,” she whispered.
“Get over here right now,” he growled.
For once, his wife didn’t give him lip. She got up, rounded the table, he pushed back, and she sat right in his lap and tipped her face to his so he could take her mouth.
When he was done, he held her eyes but moved a hand to her flat belly where she was nurturing their baby.
Fuck.
Frankie.
“Happy?” she whispered.
“Absolutely.”
She skimmed her nose against the tip of his before she said quietly, “Love you, Benny Bianchi.”
Jesus, so f**king sweet.
“Love you too, Frankie Bianchi.”
He watched her eyes smile, felt her touch her lips to his, then she slid off his lap.
He was wiping her lip gloss from his mouth when he caught sight of Elena at the hostess station, smiling at them.
Having his own place, a place where people went to have good times, he knew that feeling. He knew it was why, generation after generation, you kept that close, worked your ass off to make it thrive—so you could give it to your family.
But she got the better parts and they came often. People coming to her restaurant for reasons just like this—to share the most important moments of their lives.
He lifted his chin to her, then looked back at his pregnant wife.