The Promise
Page 37

“You’d be right about that,” I replied.
She tipped her head to the side as she lifted her eyebrows up. “You and Benny?”
“Long story,” I muttered, and she grinned.
“You two look good together.”
I caught her eyes direct. “I looked good together with his brother too.”
She held my gaze for long seconds before she asked cautiously, “Do you like him?”
“He’s the commissioner of the local Little League.”
Her lips twitched and she murmured, “You like him.”
“He’s also my dead boyfriend’s brother,” I noted for the f**king gazillionth time in three days.
She assessed my face and remarked, “I’m sensing you don’t wanna talk about this.”
“Since Ben made it clear what he was thinking about this, it’s pretty much the only thing I think about, we talk about, and I talk about with other people. So yeah, I could use a break.”
Violet nodded. “Right. So you ever need to talk it through with someone who’ll just listen, or you ever need to talk anything through with someone who’ll just listen, or you ever just want to shoot the breeze, you call me. Okay?”
That was so nice, I grinned at her, declaring, “I just knew you were the shit.”
She grinned back and replied, “I knew you were the shit when you jimmied up that window so we could escape.”
I shrugged. “Figured Hart was shooting people in the other room, it was time for us to take a stroll.”
She started giggling and through it said, “You were so right.”
I started giggling too and we did this for a while until we both sobered, our eyes glued to each other’s, our hands clutching tight.
“You’re up, talking, you look gorgeous, but are you sleeping? Dealing? Healing?” Vi asked in a whisper.
“One good thing about Benny throwing down with me is that I haven’t really had a chance to have a proper freak out about that whole thing with Hart. But we’re here, he’s not, so it all worked out in the end.”
“Yeah,” she agreed.
“You?” I asked.
“I have Joe,” she answered, and I smiled. She had Cal. Cal had her. And obviously, that was all she needed.
“You’re good for him,” I told her.
“He’s good for me,” she told me.
Excellent response.
“He loves your girls,” I told her.
“They adore him,” she told me.
Another excellent response.
“Thanks for making him happy,” I whispered.
“That, honey, is not a hardship,” she whispered back.
We smiled at each other again. Then, being women and thus, prone to do crazy shit for no reason whatsoever, we burst out laughing.
* * * * *
Hours later, when everyone was gone, I walked out of the bathroom in another one of Gina’s sexy-cute nightgowns to see Benny with bare feet, in his t-shirt and jeans, stretched out on the bed.
His eyes came to me, dropped to my body, and he muttered, “Jesus.”
That made me feel awesome and irked me at the same time.
“You could avoid the torture by watchin’ TV downstairs,” I remarked.
His eyes lifted to mine. “I could.”
That was all he said.
I sighed, went to the robe at the foot of the bed, shrugged it on, tied the belt, and climbed into bed.
Benny was in that bed and I should be throwing a conniption about it, but I needed to climb in. It had been a big day with lots of hugging, moving around, and sitting up. It felt good to do it. It felt better I made it through. It wasn’t too much too soon, but that didn’t mean I didn’t need to take a load off.
I turned my eyes to the TV to see Benny scrolling through the guide like a man would stand in front of a refrigerator—that was, not paying a whole lot of attention, not knowing what he wanted, not liking what he saw, and willing to do it for the next half an hour, thinking something would magically appear that would ease a craving.
“What’d you talk about with Cal?” I asked.
“He wanted to make sure you were good,” Ben answered, eyes to the TV.
“He could have asked me,” I pointed out, eyes to Ben.
“He didn’t. He asked me,” Ben told me what I already knew.
“Did this require you being on the front stoop where no one could hear?” I pushed.
“Yep, since it happened on the front stoop where no one could hear,” Ben stated, and that didn’t feel awesome. It just irked me.
“Benny!” I snapped, and he looked at me.
“Ask what you wanna ask, baby,” he said gently, reading me and knowing I was beating around the bush.
So I quit beating around the bush.
“Cal doesn’t seem to have a problem with the idea of you and me,” I noted.
“He doesn’t, since he’s told me, repeatedly, after that shit went down with Hart, to get my head outta my ass and sort out you and me.”
My mouth dropped open.
I snapped it shut to declare, “There isn’t a ‘you and me.’”
His eyes did a sweep of me in his bed, they came to rest on mine, and he said quietly, “Babe.”
Shit.
“We’re talkin’ about this tomorrow,” he reminded me. “Right now, I can tell you had a big day and you need to kick back.”
He wasn’t wrong about that. What he was was attentive, noticing it.
Another good thing about Benny.
“Come here,” he ordered.
“I’m good here,” I said, turning my eyes to the TV.
“Frankie, come here,” he repeated.
I looked to him. “I’m good here, Benny.”
“Babe,” he stated firmly, but said no more.
“I’m comfy.”
“Come here,” he said yet again.
“Ben, I’m fine where I am.”
“Come here.”
My eyes narrowed. “Seriously?”
“Francesca, come…here.”
“Are you gonna repeat it until I do it?” I snapped.
“Yes,” he replied.
“You’re annoying,” I told him.
“Come here.”
“Now you’re more annoying.”
“Come here.”
I glared at him as I informed him, “I really wanna hit you with a pillow right now.”
“Come here.”
“Benny!” I shouted.
Then I was no longer reclining on my side of the bed.
I was tucked tight to Benny’s side on his side of the bed.