Kristen Ashley - The Promise

“Benny,” she prompted, putting minor pressure on his stomach to push away.

He looked down at her. “Quiet and settle.”

She gave him squinty eyes. “I’ll be quiet and settle when you aren’t in bed with me.”

“We gonna have this conversation every time I’m in bed with you? That is, until you come to terms with the fact I’m gonna be in bed with you a lot?”

Her eyes got squintier and she didn’t hesitate with her response. “No, since that day is never gonna happen and this day and the ones close to it, you’re gonna stop climbin’ into bed with me.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“You do know I’m in this for the long haul.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he kept going. “And, just sayin’, I get a kick out of it. It makes my dick twitch in a way I like, squabblin’ with you, that attitude of yours. So, baby, you gotta know, I’m happy with you keepin’ on with that for as long as you like.”

That did it. She clamped her mouth shut.

He looked back at the TV and smiled.

Then he asked, “You seen The Expendables 2?”

She said nothing.

Back to the silent treatment.

He could work with that too, seeing as he hadn’t seen that movie, had been meaning to, and Francesca shutting her trap meant he could see to that. So he hit the button to fire up the movie.

He felt her attitude clog the air in the room as the movie started to roll and he kept feeling it until she fell asleep.

When she did, he curled her closer.

He did this because he liked her closer.

He also did it because, when he did, he could hear those sexy-as-fuck noises she made when she was sleeping a fuckuva lot better.

They didn’t come often.

But when they did, Benny liked every one.

The doorbell rang and Benny’s eyes opened.

He instantly felt the kinks in his body from sleeping on the couch.

He moved when he slept, which was why he’d bought a king-sized bed the instant he moved out of his parents’ house five months after he graduated high school. He’d had a tiny apartment and that bed took up nearly the whole bedroom, but he didn’t give a fuck. At his folks’ house, he’d had a twin and that shit was torture with the way Benny slept.

He forced himself to sitting and reached out to grab his jeans. He got up, stretching to get the kinks out, tugged them on, and nabbed his tee on the way to the door.

Frankie was out by nine the night before, so even though the kitchen took last orders at nine thirty, he went in to take over from Pop in order to supervise closing. He also went in to talk any of his kids down from quitting, seeing as his father was a drill sergeant in the kitchen and his kids weren’t used to that shit. This meant he didn’t get home until near on midnight.

He’d done the same the night before.

He was used to the late nights.

He was not used to that fucking couch.

He just hoped he could sort things with Frankie in a way so he wouldn’t have to get used to it.

He was pulling down his shirt at his stomach when he looked through the window at the top of the door and saw Frankie’s girl out there.

He unlocked it, opened it, and greeted, “Hey.”

“Hey,” she greeted back, her eyes traveling the length of him, catching on his crotch and staying there too long. They jerked up and he could swear he saw pink tinge the chocolate skin of her cheeks.

Used to that from women (without the blush, and the blush was cute), he bit back a grin and stepped out of the way, inviting her inside nonverbally but saying, “I’ll go wake her. Then I’ll make coffee and bring you both a cup.”

She was in by the time he was done speaking, so she turned to him, offering, “I’ll make coffee.”

He gave her a nod. “Have at it. Kitchen’s in the back. Make yourself at home.”

She dipped her chin and made a move to the back hall.

Benny closed the door and made his own move to the stairs.

“Uh…Benny?” she called when he had a foot on the first step.

He stopped and looked at her standing halfway down the hall. “Yeah?”

Her eyes went to the ceiling, then to him. “Figure you’re the kind who isn’t real big on interference, but…” She jerked her head toward the ceiling. “You know what you’re doin’ with her?”

She was right. He wasn’t the kind who was big on interference. Further, he didn’t know her and he was really not the kind who was big on interference from someone he didn’t know.

What he did know was that she was up early on a Saturday to come and hang when her girl was taking a shower. Same with her bein’ late to work the day before. So he didn’t know her, but he respected that.

He also knew from her question that Frankie had shared.

Not surprising. Women did that and that was a big part of what he didn’t understand about them. Why they would talk to their girls about their men in an attempt to understand their men when their girls were fucking girls and couldn’t begin to understand how a man’s mind worked, he did not get. Or, more to the point, get the concept that a man’s mind didn’t work at shit. Most men did what they did and that was it.

Trying to explain that to a woman was like slamming your head repeatedly into a wall.

But since Frankie shared and this woman had Frankie’s back, he was forced to do what he normally would not do with respect to the last.

“I know what I’m doin’,” he assured her.

“Frankie’s not right,” she told him.

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly. “She just got shot. That shit’ll shake you.”

“That’s not why she’s not right.”

He knew she was not wrong.

But he didn’t agree with her. He just stated “I’m seein’ to her” in a way he hoped didn’t invite further discourse but didn’t do it in a way where he came off sounding like a dick.

She held his eyes, and while she did, he had to give her more respect. This coming from the fact that it was clear she gave more than a passing shit about Frankie and he already knew she did that just from her going out of her way to take care of their girl.

So he gave her more.

“I have not done right by her. I’m rectifyin’ that.”

She nodded and he had a feeling she wanted to say more, but she didn’t. Her ending their conversation indicated she was showing him respect, and with that, he respected her more.

She moved back to the kitchen.

Benny moved up the stairs.

When he hit his bedroom, he saw Frankie on her back, covers resting at her hips, one leg slightly hitched at the side under the sheets, one hand resting low on her belly, her other arm cocked on the bed at her side, her mass of dark hair everywhere.

Beauty sleeping alone in his bed.

Fuck.

She was not snoring, which was surprising.

Another surprise: he hated snoring. His pop snored and did it so loud, it filled their house at night growing up. That shit would wake Benny, and hearing it constant, he wouldn’t be able to get to sleep.

Frankie doing it, for some insane reason, he thought was cute.

But now she wasn’t.

He sat on the bed above her hitched leg, bent low, and whispered in her ear, “Frankie, baby, wake up. Your girl’s here.”

He lifted up and saw her eyes flutter open, still not believing those lashes were that thick and curly without aid of makeup. He’d discovered this impossibility when she was in the hospital. He’d liked it and wondered if that was a dominant trait, say, one she’d give to her daughters.

But right then, her eyes open, he saw that she seemed disoriented and the pain instantly tightened her mouth, which, in turn, made him tighten his.

With no warning, she did an ab curl to lift up and he heard her mew of discomfort. When he did, he moved quickly. Getting off the bed, then carefully shoving his arms under her, he lifted her and put her to her feet. Keeping an arm around her waist, he held her close to his side and lifted his other hand to her jaw.

She tipped hazy eyes to his and he looked into them with more than a little concern because she should be getting better day to day. Instead, she seemed far more out of it this morning than she was yesterday.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she muttered.

“Sure?” he pushed.

She held his eyes, hers remaining hazy, but she nodded.

“Bathroom?”

“Yeah,” she agreed.

He dropped his hand at her jaw and guided her to the bathroom. Just like the day before, he didn’t loosen his hold until she had a steadying hand on the counter.

“You seem fuzzy today,” he observed as, just like the day before, she stared at her hand on the counter with zero focus.

When he spoke, she tilted her head back to look at him. “I’ll shake it off, baby.”

His gut tightened.

Definitely fuzzy. She’d called him “baby.”

And Benny liked it, so he grinned at her, gave her a squeeze, and dropped his mouth to touch it to hers. Not her cheek this time. She had to get used to taking his mouth and she might as well start now.

Her eyes were still hazy when he lifted his head and looked down at her, at the same time lifting his hand to her jaw so he could brush his thumb over the soft skin of her full lower lip.

“Coffee, a pill, and your girl, comin’ up,” he said.

“Okay, Ben,” she murmured.

Looking in her eyes that were no less hazy but also crazy-beautiful, he whispered, “Sweet.”

Something moved through her gaze he didn’t quite get, but it was the good kind of something. So he left her with whatever thought was working behind that look and headed out of the bathroom.

Asheeka was filling a glass with water when Benny hit the kitchen.

She looked to him when he got there. “Coffee’s brewin’. Not quite done.”

“I’ll bring up some mugs when it is,” he told her. “How do you take yours?”

“Milk, one sugar,” she said, grabbing the pill bottle on the counter and making to move out. “She good?”

“Hazier this morning. Keep an eye.”

Her mouth twisted like she wanted to smile but wouldn’t let herself. She nodded and headed out.

Benny moved to the counter, put his back to it, and rested his hips against it. He watched her walk out of the kitchen, then watched where he last saw her when she was gone, settling in and listening.

Less than five minutes and the shower went on.

He grinned slow.

Then he took in his kitchen, and as he did it, the reason he bought this house came to him.

It had been in a time when he knew he needed to quit dicking around with his life and start living it. Not living it just to work to make money, buy shit, go out and have a good time, and get laid. Living it with meaning.

He grew up knowing that Vinnie would take over the restaurant from Pop. Since he had no intention of seeing to the front of the house, his life was his own.

Then he actually grew up and Vinnie twisted that notion, going his own way—that way being the wrong way—and Benny knew his younger brother Manny did not have what it took to run the kitchen for the long haul. Manny being social and liking flash clothes, the front of the house was where he worked. But the kitchen took something else, and with Vinnie out, Benny had to step up.

This was not an edict and it was not an expectation, not from Pop, not from Ma. They made it known they wanted the restaurant to remain in the family, but they didn’t lean on any of their kids to make this so.

But the home they provided through hard work, and the love they gave that they showed was never hard work, meant it meant something to them and it meant something to their kids.

Which meant Benny didn’t want to do it, but with Vinnie out, he had to make a choice and there was only one right one.

It wasn’t a hardship. If he didn’t fuck that shit, taking over the restaurant, he knew his life would be comfortable and he could give that to his family like Ma and Pop gave it to him.

So he made the right choice.

That thought in his head, his eyes drifted to the calendar tacked to the wall. It was three years old, arrested in time on the month of April.

Seeing it, it came to him that he didn’t think on his future much. He just knew, whatever he did, he wanted to give the kind of comfort his ma and pop gave to him to his family. A big one. At least three, maybe four kids. The house always full, loud, comings and goings, a calendar on the wall in the kitchen like his ma kept that was completely marked up. Little League practices and games. Dance recitals. Parent-teacher conferences. Barbeques, sleepovers, and birthday parties. The woman he’d eventually claim keeping the schedule, pinning him down to sign a birthday card to one of their kids’ cousins, a text coming to remind him she was picking their girl up from dance so he had to get their boys from the baseball diamond.