Kristen Ashley - The Promise

She trailed off so I said, “I’m taken.”

“Yeah, you’re you and that’s all a’ you,” she replied, rounding my head with her hand, including my big hair. “And your man is way hot. But he’s in Chicago. You look like you, Tanner Layne looks like him, your man is in Chicago, shit happens.”

“I gave him a calendar for his birthday with my schedule written in it, family birthdays, shit like that, and he told me that’s all he ever wanted. A life reflected in the busy family times written on a calendar stuck on a wall in the kitchen. He asked me if I was gonna give that to him and I said yes. So that guy is hot and Benny might be in Chicago, but that shit is also not gonna happen.”

I finished my pronouncement and Cheryl stared at me but did it saying, “He said that’s all he wanted out of life?”

“Yep.”

“And that doesn’t freak you?’

“Absolutely not.”

“What do you want out of life?”

“A man who wants a calendar on the wall in his kitchen written all over with busy family times.”

“Then you’re sorted,” she noted, her eyes lighting, her lips curling up.

“Yep,” I agreed, knowing my eyes were lighting and my lips had curled up.

“’Cept you live here and he lives there,” she pointed out.

“My lease is up in October and then I’ll live there.”

To this, her eyes got big, her mood deteriorated, and she surprisingly snapped, “What?”

“Well,” I started hesitantly, uncertain of her sudden mood swing. “I’m movin’ in with Ben.”

“Great,” she bit out. “Finally, you stroll in J&J’s and I’m ready to groom you to be my wingman. Feb can’t do it ’cause she’s taken and has a baby, and Colt would lose his badass mind if I took her out carousin’. Vi used to do it, then she got hooked up with Cal, and he’s arguably more badass than Colt and would definitely lose his mind if Vi went out carousin’ with me. And I know this for fact ’cause I asked, she told him I asked, and he lost his mind. You look like you’d be a good wingman and you’re the only semi-kinda-single woman I know in the ’burg that I like. Now you’re leavin’?”

I felt for her. A good wingman was hard to find.

Still, I answered, “Yep.”

“Freakin’ awesome,” she said, not meaning it. “Now how’m I gonna get laid?”

“We could go carousin’ while I’m still here. You’ve got a coupla months.”

“What you doin’ Wednesday?” she asked instantly, and I grinned.

“Carousin’ with you,” I answered.

That was when she grinned.

Feb moving caught my eye and I looked down the bar to see that Tanner Layne was now taking a phone call.

He really was hot.

But Benny was so totally hotter.

This thought and the man’s age made my eyes go to Cheryl and I asked, “Tanner Layne have kids?”

“Yep, word is two boys.”

“One named Jasper?” I asked.

“No clue, seein’ as he hasn’t fucked my brains out so we could get down to the pillow talk of sharin’ how many offspring we might bring to a Brady Bunch scenario.”

I smiled at what she said but kept eyeing Tanner Layne as I muttered, “I wonder if he’s Jasper’s father.” I said this as I hoped he was because those genes would undoubtedly be dominant and that would mean, once Cal lifted the ban, Keira would get a live one.

“Who’s Jasper?’ Cheryl asked, and I looked back at her.

“The boy Keira has a crush on.”

She jerked up her chin high on an “Ah.” Then she said, “I’ll find out,” and moseyed toward Feb.

I sipped my wine, and after a couple of minutes, Cheryl moseyed back.

“Jasper is the oldest,” she confirmed. “His other one, Tripp, is younger. Neither have been picked up doin’ stupid shit by Colt or anybody as far as Feb knows. But she’s willin’ to interrogate Colt about Jasper’s suitability for Keirry.”

“That’d be good, seein’ as Cal’s reluctant to give her the go-ahead to make her play with the kid because, according to Kate, he’s a high school player.”

“I’ll get Feb on it,” she said.

“Thanks,” I murmured, then we both went silent since Tanner Layne was throwing some bills on the bar and he was doing a chin lift to Feb.

He walked the length of the bar, eyes on me, and when he got close, his head tilted slightly to the side, his lips tipped up, and his eyes got lazy. Then he walked right on by and out the door.

I had to admit, my nipples tingled a little, but then again, that was an automatic female response to a hot guy head tilt/lip tip.

I also had to admit it was nice to know I had it in me to be sitting on a barstool and get the hot guy head tilt/lip tip.

But mostly, it was just a pleasant thing to happen while I passed the time until I could phone Benny.

***

“You okay?”

This was Ben’s greeting that night at 12:45.

“Please tell me you’re close to a bed,” I replied, my voice sleepy and throaty. The first because I’d just woken up and called Benny. The second because I was multitasking so I’d already engaged my vibrator.

Ben’s voice was no longer concerned but something a whole lot better when he demanded, “Tell me you’re serious, cara.”

“I’m very serious, Benny.”

“How far gone are you?” he asked.

“You still got work to do, honey,” I answered.

“Fuck, baby,” he growled and there it was. That was all I had to hear. Benny got to work.

Luckily, that wasn’t all Benny gave me. He gave me a whole lot more and he did it until he heard me come. Then I set my vibrator away, rolled to my side, curled up, and in my throaty, quiet, post-orgasm voice, I gave him a lot more until I heard him come.

I was silent a moment for him to come down before I whispered, “I miss you, honey.”

“Comin’ to you this weekend.”

I blinked at my pillow. “What?”

“My turn.”

“So soon?” I asked, my heart leaping, hoping he would confirm that yes, he was coming back to me and soon.

“Done with this shit. I’m down there or you’re up here every weekend.”

Even though I loved that I idea, it worried me.

“That’s a lot for you at the restaurant.”

“Two months. They’ll cover me.”

I knew that was a sacrifice for Benny.

But it made me happy, and not just because I’d see him more, also because he wanted to see me more and he was a man willing to make that kind of sacrifice for me.

“Cheryl is gonna have to make do with a weekday wingman,” I muttered, thinking that’d work for her because she probably worked most weekends.

“What?” Ben asked.

“Nothin’,” I answered.

“Cheryl’s wingman?” he pushed, and I pressed my lips together because I had a feeling Ben was a man of the Colt and Cal variety. “Frankie,” he prompted in a warning, not throaty, sexy, post-orgasm voice, but in a growly, sexy, getting-pissed, post-orgasm voice.

Yep, Benny was a man of the Colt and Cal variety.

So I gave it up. “Cheryl asked me to be her wingman.”

“And you said yes?” Ben asked, like I told him Cheryl asked me to help her bomb the Canadian embassy.

“She needs to get laid,” I explained.

“Seen her, figure she can accomplish that feat on her own,” Ben returned.

“Every girl needs a good wingman, Benny,” I shot back, my voice not throaty, post-orgasm anymore either, mostly because I was kind of getting pissed.

“Maybe. It’s just that hers isn’t gonna be you,” Benny declared, and I stopped kind of getting pissed and just got that way.

“Why?”

“You and your ass, hair, legs, tits, and smile do not need to be out on your heels with fuckin’ Cheryl, gettin’ attention and gettin’ into trouble.”

“Benny Bianchi, do you think in a million years I’d do anything to jeopardize the promise of you?” I snapped.

I got silence from Benny for a moment before he asked quietly, “The promise of me?”

“Yes,” I hissed. “The promise of you.”

“Babe, I’m yours. How am I a promise?” he asked, tone now cautious, and my belly did a dip at the “I’m yours” business.

But still.

“Every day is a new promise, Ben,” I told him sharply. “Every night I go to sleep knowin’ it’s a promise, every day I wake knowin’ in some way it’s gonna be fulfilled. And repeat. For…hopefully…ever.”

“Frankie,” he whispered but didn’t go on.

I ignored the depth of meaning behind that whisper and stated, “So don’t tell me I can’t go out with Cheryl. She’s funny. She’s edgy, but she’s nice. I know Vi wouldn’t let her close to her or her girls if she didn’t have a heart of gold, but just sayin’, Cal wouldn’t either. So I’ve got two months left in the ’burg. The whole time I’ve been here it felt like I was in limbo, not at home, away from everyone I love, primarily you, and that really hasn’t felt great. So I’m gonna go out and have fun with one of the few people I know and you aren’t gonna stop me.”

“Okay, baby.”

I blinked again at my pillow. “Okay?”

“Yeah, go out and have fun.”

“As easy as that?” I asked dubiously.

“Pretty much,” he answered.

I didn’t trust it.

“Does this mean you’re gonna play some guy’s wingman while I’m away?”

“Francesca, when do I have time to be some guy’s wingman? I work, and when I’m not workin’, my ass is with you.”

Oh yeah.

Right.

“But, are you sayin’ you can and I can’t?” Ben went on.

“You’re hot,” I pointed out. “Girls like hot.”

“You aren’t butt-ugly,” he returned.

I had to admit, this was true.

He kept going.

“And do you think in a million years I’d do anything to jeopardize the promise of you?”

God.

Benny.

Suddenly, I was not pissed at all.

“No,” I whispered.

“I’m not Enzo,” Ben declared.

“I know you’re not.”

“And you aren’t Ninette.”

“I know.”

“So are you done pissin’ me off after you got me off?” he asked.

“I think so,” I answered. “But just to say, you started it.”

“Fuck,” he muttered.

“Ninette’s fiancé dumped her, by the way,” I told him to change the subject.

This got no response.

“She’s heading up to Chicago to find someone to mooch off of,” I shared.

“That will not be you and me,” Ben stated firmly.

I knew it, and because I did, I smiled.

I also kept at it.

“And Chrissy had the baby.”

Another non-response.

“They named her Domino.”

That got a response.

It was, “Jesus.”

“We’ll call her Minnie.”

“Puttin’ my foot down right now, babe, our kids are not gonna be named stupid-ass names.”

Our kids.

God.

Benny.

“I was thinkin’ Solitaire,” I lied.

“You’d be thinkin’ wrong.”

“Spade?”

“No.”

“Club?”

“No.”

“Monopoly?”

He chuckled through his “Fuck no.”

“How about John?”

“John I’ll consider.”

I grinned at my pillow, and through my grin, I said softly, “Love you, Benny.”

“Love you back, Frankie,” he replied softly. “Now go to sleep with the promise of me, and tomorrow I’ll make certain I do somethin’ to fulfill it.”

God.

I fucking loved Benny Bianchi.

“Okay, honey.”

“’Night, Frankie.”

“’Night, Benny.”

I waited and he waited, then I let him off the hook and disconnected first.

After that, I brought my phone to my lips like it was him and I could touch my mouth to his as a goodnight.

In a couple of months.

Then I’d be full-on happy.

I set the phone aside, snuggled up, and fell asleep.

The phone rang in Benny’s back pocket. He flipped the flaps closed on the box he was sorting through in the basement, pulled his phone out, and saw it was his ma calling.

“Hey, Ma,” he answered.

“Benny, we’re out,” she told him something that he really didn’t need to know.

“She’s out and she dragged my ass with her!” He heard his father shout, which meant wherever they were, everyone heard it.

“Quiet, Vinnie, yeesh,” his ma shushed his pop.

“Ma,” Ben called to get her attention back in hopes of getting this conversation over a lot faster.

“We’re at a furniture shop and we’ve just seen the sweetest bed,” she announced.

“She thinks it’s sweet,” he heard his father yell. “I think it’s girlie.”