The Promise
Page 87

His arms tightened and I read what he wanted, tipping my chin and offering my mouth.
He took it again, taking his time, slow, wet, and deep. Then he broke our connection but kept me close.
“You intend to feed me?” he asked.
“Sure,” I replied, grinning, taking Ben’s hint that after-sex talk was over, and starting to make a move to get off him.
This move was unsuccessful since his arms kept tight hold and I looked back at him.
“You okay with me layin’ it out for your dad?”
I did the best shrug I could with Benny holding me. “You’re lookin’ out for me.”
He shook his head and repeated, “You okay with me layin’ it out for your dad?”
I was nearly as close as I could get, but I found my way to get closer to him and said quietly, “Yeah, Benny, ’cause you were lookin’ out for me. That was insane, totally messed up, but I wouldn’t have had it in me to show him the door. I needed you to do that for me. You did it for me. So yes, honey, I’m okay with you layin’ it out for my dad. And, better, I’m okay ’cause he’s not the kind of man who would court a scene like that again, so it’s likely I won’t have to endure another one.” I reached up and touched my lips to his, pulling back and finishing, “Because of you. So not only am I okay, I’ll say thank you, baby.”
He slid a hand out of his tee and lifted it to pull my hair away from one side of my face, his eyes watching his hand, then moving over my features.
“Benny?” I called when he didn’t move, didn’t speak, just let his eyes roam over me.
When I did, his gaze came to mine. “Crazy-beautiful,” he whispered and my heart lurched.
He meant me. Not just the way I looked, all of me.
“I’m crazy-beautiful ’cause I let you deal with my dad?” I asked quietly.
“You’re crazy-beautiful ’cause you’re the kind of woman who has a heart who holds on and won’t let her show him the door.” He grinned and finished, “Lettin’ me have all the fun.”
“You’re just crazy,” I told him, but it wasn’t sharp or sarcastic—it was soft, and even I had to admit, it sounded sweet.
“Oh yeah, I’m crazy,” he whispered, his eyes again roaming my face and I tensed, knowing what he meant with that too.
He was crazy for me.
“Benny,” I breathed, and he caught my gaze.
“You gotta feed your man, Frankie.”
I looked into his eyes and decided to let him have that play.
I did it for Benny.
And I did it for me because my cupboards were not bare. They were bursting. I had twelve different kinds of potato chips, and I had a feast planned to make for my man to show him how much I looked forward to him being with me.
When we got to the kitchen and I shared them (steaks, sautéed mushrooms, loaded baked potatoes, steamed asparagus, Pillsbury crescent rolls, and store-bought-but-still-awesome sugar cream pie for dessert), Ben liked my plans for dinner.
But he snacked on BBQ Fritos the whole time I was preparing it, which I told him I found annoying.
I didn’t.
I was in woman-falling-in-love zone.
So I was crazy too.
Chapter Sixteen
What a Miracle She Was
I grabbed my workout bag from the bench in the locker room of the company gym and hit the Go button on my phone.
I walked out of the locker room and then out of the gym, listening to it ring.
I got voicemail while I was waiting for the elevator.
“You got me. Now tell me why you want me,” my sister Cat’s voicemail greeting I knew all too well said in my ear.
When I got the beep, I spoke.
“I want you ’cause I’ve called you a gazillion times in the last month, and I called you seven gazillion times before that, and I have not heard from you, Cat. Things are happening with this family and Enzo told me he can’t get a hold of you either. Seein’ as somethin’ went down and Dad isn’t talking to me, and I’m not talkin’ to him, I don’t know if you’ve heard from him. There’s stuff you need to know, but you’re not returning my calls, so now I’m worried.” The elevator doors whooshed open and I finished with, “Call your big sister, Cat, please.”
I disconnected, got in the elevator, and hit the button, thinking my sister Cat took middle child syndrome to extremes.
Sure, she had a case for this, even if she brought it up every single time she got her feelings hurt, which was often. Her case being Dad had a favorite: Enzo. Ma also had a favorite: Nat. I was the oldest, so I was about responsibility, spending my time looking after my younger siblings, and not thinking about all the ways I could feel injured that Ma and Dad didn’t dote on me.
Then again, all our grandparents thought I was the shit, likely because they were good, loving people who had no idea where they went wrong with Enzo and Ninette and looked to me as salvation that they eventually had some small hand in creating something that went right.
This was not, of course, the way I felt my whole life. This was what occurred to me since being with Benny and him pointing out I was a Concetti by name, but I was Frankie because I was just me.
That said, my grandfather was the ultimate Concetti. He was awesome. He adored me and it sucked he moved all the way to Arizona (a choice that took him far away from my mother, who was not his favorite person) and that we’d lost Nana Concetti, because she was awesome too.
In the Concetti-offspring-having-it-together scale, Cat was right behind me. She worked for a construction company and had for a long time, meeting her husband, Art, there. Art had even managed to hold down the same job for more than a decade, a feat when it came to anyone involved with a Concetti.
Art was very hot and he was also very hotheaded. With Cat also being the last, this meant they fought like crazy. It didn’t help that they were both just shy of being not-so-healthy big drinkers. The booze came out, Cat and/or Art could get talkative and funny, or irritable and mean, and they took both to extremes. In the end, it actually wasn’t pleasant experiencing either one, because even if they were being talkative and funny, they didn’t shut up so you could get a word in edgewise and that always got annoying.
Cat, like every member of my family, was prone to drama, and it was not unheard of that she could get hurt and hold a silent grudge for ages.
But this was extreme.
And I did not lie on the phone—I was worried.
Both of Enzo Junior’s women had had his children, a boy and a girl, and although this usually was joyous news, it was not going well for my brother. From Enzo’s point of view, they’d both tried to trap him with their pregnancies, and honestly, it sounded like one of them did. The other one I’d met and liked and she’d adored Enzo. I felt for her at the time because she thought she was in it for the long haul, this being because Enzo gave her that impression.