Kristen Ashley - The Promise

“Don’t forget the peppers,” Sal put in.

That was when I flopped onto the couch and burst out laughing.

I felt Sal (and Angie) sit beside me. When I could see again through my laughter, I saw Cal sitting on the arm of Vi’s chair, his hand on the back of her neck, with his eyes on Kate and Keira, who were settling in, Keira close to my side, Kate on the arm of the couch next to Sal and Angie.

And I heard Benny saying, “One half pepperoni, half sausage. The other with everything.”

Keira leaned her weight into my side and whispered into my ear, “School’s gonna start soon and I think I have Joe where I want him on the Jasper Layne situation.”

I turned my head, looked into her beautiful face, and that was when it hit.

There I was. Safe. At home. With my man and my family.

A moment that was the beginning of the rest of my life.

It was full of promise.

I parked at the back of the pizzeria, opened my door, threw out my foot in its high-heeled pump, and hauled my business-suited ass out of my Z.

I dashed in the back door of the restaurant, through the vacant kitchen that was nonetheless messy, and into the dining room.

They were congregated close to the front door. Vinnie, Benny, Vi, Cal with Angie, Kate, and Keira. Theresa, with her camera, was standing in front of them.

“Hey!” I called, rushing around the bar.

“Frankie!” Kate cried.

“Yay!” Keira yelled.

“Frankie! Just in time! Get in the shot,” Theresa ordered.

“I can’t, honey, got another interview I gotta get to. But I wanted to pop by and say ‘hey,’” I said, coming around them, seeing Kate and Keira in stained white aprons, holding a pizza pie.

This was because Benny had spent the last hour, while I was at another interview, teaching them how to make it.

They were up for Thanksgiving. They’d gotten in late that morning as I was headed off to interview numero uno.

Theresa was hosting Thanksgiving (of course), and Carm, Ken, and the kids were arriving that evening.

So it was good Ben and I got our guest room done, because with Carm and the family in town, that meant Vi, Cal, and the girls could stay with us.

Something that made me happy.

Then again, those days, days that started with Benny in bed with me and ended the same way, I was always happy.

I gave out quick hugs and kisses, ending with the girls.

“Save me a slice,” I said, smiling down at the awesome-looking pizza pie that I knew was also awesome-tasting because Benny showed them how to make it.

“We will,” Kate promised.

I gave her a grin, then I went to my man.

Hand to his chest, feet up on my toes, I said in his ear, “Be back as soon as I can.”

“Knock ’em dead, cara,” he said in mine, hand on my waist when he kissed my jaw.

I kissed his, leaned back, gave him a smile, and made to rush right back out.

“Frankie! Two seconds! I want you in this shot!” Theresa called.

“I’ll be in the next one!” I called back, hustling forward but smiling and waving backward.

“Frankie!” she shouted.

“Love you, Theresa!” I yelled from the kitchen and kept going.

It sucked that I had back-to-back interviews the day before Thanksgiving when family was hitting town, but the jobs were both local and they were both promising.

It wasn’t that I minded being out of work for a while. It was nice. It was just that all Benny’s junk was sorted, the house was clean, the guest room done, so I had nothing to do with my days. It would also be good to get back.

And anyway, I was right.

I wanted to be in that photo Theresa was taking.

But I’d get in the next one.

***

I disconnected my call, got off the couch in the living room, and headed down the hall. Hearing Godsmack playing low in the kitchen, I got myself a diet Fanta Grape from the fridge Ben had moved in the den.

Then I walked across the hall and stood outside the baby gate at the kitchen door, which was there to keep Gus out. This was something Gus didn’t like and I knew this considering he was sitting on his ass at the door, his tail wagging, his eyes aimed through the gate.

I aimed my eyes into the kitchen and saw my man in the gutted space, its walls newly painted butter yellow, laying tile.

“I’m uncertain how me wanting new towels, a floor, and backsplashes translated into you gutting the entire kitchen,” I remarked, popping the tab on my Fanta.

“Is that you askin’ me why I’m doin’ something?”

I grinned. “Yeah.”

He looked from the tile he’d just laid to me. “You get a new kitchen. Why do you wanna know why I’m givin’ it to you?”

“Because I don’t have a stove right now and I like havin’ a stove.”

Ben looked back to what he was doing, saying, “You’ll have a stove in about a week.”

“A week is a long time,” I noted.

“A week is a week,” he replied.

“True enough,” I muttered, smiling. “A week is a week.”

“You done bustin’ my chops?” Benny asked, setting in another tile.

“Maybe.”

“Whatever,” he murmured, grinning at the tile, being my awesome Benny because I was a woman who busted her man’s chops and he was a man who liked it.

“You wanna know what Tandy said?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he answered.

“The board officially promoted Travis Berger from acting CEO to just plain CEO, seein’ as he did so well with all that crap that went down after Tenrix bein’ bad was outed.”

“And I give a shit about that because…?” Ben queried.

I grinned at the lip of my can and replied, “Just an FYI,” before I took a sip.

“What did Tandy say about the job?”

“Seein’ as it pays ten grand more a year and I told her I talked my new bosses into payin’ her moving expenses because she was that good of an assistant, she said she’d take it.”

Benny’s eyes came to me and I found, not for the first time, that I was right: I wasn’t used to their beauty. I’d never get used to their beauty. Especially not when they looked like that—happy in a way that I knew he was happy for me.

“Good news, baby,” he said softly.

“Yeah,” I replied just as softly. “Team Frankie and Tandy are gonna kick ass at our new jobs in Chicago.”

He smiled at me.

No. I’d never get used to getting all that goodness from Benny Bianchi.

“We’ll celebrate tonight. Come in and keep me company in the kitchen,” he invited on an order.

“That I can do,” I told him, but only because I liked keeping him company in his kitchen. “Now, what I’m gonna do is leave you to do what you seem to have to do. I’m goin’ over to bug Mrs. Zambino.”

“Take Gus with you. He’s makin’ me feel guilty.”

I looked down at Gus, who did indeed look like he was pining for his daddy, even if his daddy was only six feet away.

I looked back at Benny. “You got it, capo.”

Ben gave me a look, but he did it with his lips twitching.

I gave him a grin and informed him, “You can turn the music back up now.” Then I patted my thigh and called my dog as I moved to the front door. Gus followed me, no longer pining for Daddy. He was panting and had a doggie smile on his face, happy he was getting time with Mommy.

The music ratcheted high. I grinned as I found my cardigan, pulled it on, put the leash on Gus, and we headed out the door and across the street. I walked up Mrs. Zambino’s stoop and Gus waddled up beside me.

Once there, I juggled the leash and my hold on my can of pop and knocked on the door.

She opened it two seconds later and a half second after that, demanded to know, “What are you and that mongrel doing over here?”

I took in her perfectly coifed hair and made a mental note to ask where she got her sweater so I could get the same exact one before I replied, “We’ve come for a visit.”

“I thought Benny was puttin’ in a new kitchen for you,” she noted.

“He is,” I confirmed.

“And why aren’t you helpin’ him?”

I looked down at my awesome jeans, my fabulous top, my stylish cardie, and my magnificent high-heeled boots, then I looked at her.

“Do I look like a woman who lays tile?”

“He should have help,” she informed me.

“Manny’s gonna come over when he does the cupboards and stuff,” I informed her.

“He’s doin’ something for you, Francesca.”

“Yes, and it’s my job to look amazing to remind him why, thus…” I swept a hand down my front and let that speak the rest for me.

She rolled her eyes.

“Are you gonna let us in?” I asked.

“I suppose,” she muttered irritably and stepped aside, but did this still muttering. “You get any of that grape soda on my furniture, you’re payin’ for the cleaning.”

“I’ll be careful, Mrs. Zambino,” I said as we moved in.

We got settled in her living room. I let Gus off his leash and he went directly to Mrs. Zambino’s feet and laid on them.

She said not one word about this, mostly because she might call him “the mongrel,” but she adored him. I knew this because she came over in the mornings and demanded he go on her power walks with her.

She did this saying, “Someone has to keep that mongrel in shape,” even though she knew Benny and/or I took him on at least three walks a day.

Instead of saying something about Gus, she pierced me with her gaze. “I see Benny hasn’t put a ring on your finger.”

“Not yet.”

“He should see to that. Livin’ together without God’s sanction. Now that Manny has finally made an honest woman of his Sela, Theresa’s lightin’ candle after candle in hopes of savin’ your souls.”

I grinned at her because of her totally-didn’t-mean-it surly words and at the reminder of Manny and Sela’s awesome wedding.

I did this before I suggested, “Why don’t you do me a favor and tell him to get on that?”

She looked to her knees, murmuring, “I don’t want to disturb his work in your kitchen.”

This meant she was happy giving me shit, but she wasn’t about to give the same to Benny Bianchi. I figured this was not because she was afraid of Benny. She wasn’t afraid of anything. This was because she didn’t want to do anything that might make him stop fixing stuff around her house when it broke, which didn’t happen frequently, but her house was old so it happened regularly.

“Mrs. Zambino,” I called, and she looked back at me. I crossed my legs and held her eyes as I said straight out, “You were right.”

“I’m always right,” she returned, and I grinned again. “But what in particular was I right about this time?”

“Love is never wrong.”

She studied me, but I could swear her eyes got soft.

“I’m lucky,” I said quietly. “Havin’ an old woman across the street who’ll give me wisdom.”

She looked toward her TV.

“Mrs. Zambino,” I called again, and she looked to me. “It took a while, but you started it, so you gotta know: I look in the mirror now and see what you see.”

Yes. Definitely. Her eyes were soft.

“Frankie,” she whispered.

“Do you know what I see when I look at you?” I asked.

She pressed her lips together.

“Pure beauty,” I said softly.

That was when I saw her eyes get bright a second before I saw her chin lift and heard her mouth say, “If you think you can get into my will by bein’ sweet to me, forget it. I got enough girls fightin’ over my jewelry and handbags. I’ll pick a piece for you to get when I die and you’ll like it.”

“Of course I will, you have great taste,” I told her.

“I know I do,” she returned.

That was when I burst out laughing.

***

The instant the waiter left our table, I grabbed my Champagne glass, glued my eyes to Benny across from me, put my glass to my lips, and belted it back.

All of it.

Benny burst out laughing.

We were at Giuseppe’s. I was wearing a phenomenal dress I knew was phenomenal because we were late for our reservation, seeing as Benny banged me against the wall about a nanosecond after he saw me in it.

We were there to celebrate our new kitchen, which was a bit crazy, seeing as I didn’t want to be in a restaurant. I’d had enough of restaurants and takeaway and microwave meals the last month Benny spent working on the kitchen.

What I wanted was to use my fabulous new stove and stare into my scarily expensive, new stainless-steel fridge until it started beeping (then close the door, open it, and stare into the cavernous space again).