The Promise (The 'Burg #5)(174)

Fifteen.

Eva was adorable.

Even Benny thought so.

The easy one down, the hard one to go.

And at my sister’s greeting, I realized I should have fortified myself with another donut (or two) before I got to the hard stuff.

“Nat—” I began but was cut off.

“Got enough shit swirlin’ around me, don’t need yours.”

“Please, listen to me.”

“He hit me,” she snapped.

I had to admit, I didn’t like this, even as I had to admit in knowing Nat that she probably gave him no choice.

Needing a dose of him, I looked across the counter to where Benny was lounging on the couch, feet up on my coffee table, TV on, and tuned to a game, but his eyes were on me.

And this time, I felt soothed.

“Cat told me you clocked him with a plate,” I said to Nat.

“It wasn’t a plate. It was a vase. And he deserved that shit.”

God. My sister.

I shook my head and looked down to the counter, asking, “He deserved that because you cheated on him and he’s finally done with you?”

“Okay, which part of me not needin’ your shit did you not understand?” she asked sharply.

“Has it occurred to you you’re cuttin’ me off from discussin’ this with you because you don’t want me holdin’ that mirror up to your face?”

“And what is it, oh wise Frankie, that you think you’re gonna make me see?” she returned snottily.

I was used to Nat’s snotty and I’d learned to ignore it, give it back, or get in there another way.

This was important enough for me to find another way.

So when I replied, I did it quietly.

“The image of a woman who’s in love with a man she’s done wrong.”

Nat said nothing.

I kept going.

“Davey’s a good man and he loves you. He does not deserve this, Nat. And as f**ked up as it was how we were brought up, I know deep down somewhere inside you, you know at least that.”

“So he can hit me?” she asked.

“Did he haul off and do that to hurt you, or did he do it because he had no choice?”

“Does it matter?”

“Well, if you live in black-and-white, no. It doesn’t matter. But if you hit him in the head with a vase and gave him a concussion, then didn’t let up on him and you’d lost it like I know you can lose it so he did it in self-defense, that’s pretty gray. So, no. He can’t hit you. But if you’re whalin’ on him and he’s got no choice but to take it and further damage or get physical to get you off him, it sucks to say it, but he can.”

My sister had no reply.

So I pushed, “Did he have a choice?”

She remained silent.

“Natalia, did he have a choice?”

“I never thought Davey would hit me.”

I went still at her words and the way she said them. All but my head, which I lifted, my eyes flying to Benny, who was still watching me.

I could tell by her voice that she was hurt, probably not physically, but emotionally.

Nat didn’t show a lot of emotion. She was Ninette times a thousand. The only thing she wanted was whatever she wanted and nothing dragging on that. That didn’t mean she didn’t have emotion. It just meant she’d learned a long time ago not to show it.

I felt for my sister. This was her consequence for being selfish and stupid, but I knew she loved Davey in her way. And being Nat, tied up in herself and only that, it would take a miracle to get her to see beyond that and to her part in this f**ked-up scenario.

I had to force my lips to move when I said, “Nat, honey, please, please, listen. Cat and Art have cleaned up. They’ve been sober for a long time. They’ve been workin’ with a marriage counselor to get strong before they make a baby. I have Benny and I’m happy. He’s good to me and he’s good for me. I learned not to look for Dad, and Cat learned not to act like Mom. We’re both happy. Now you need to learn from that. Sort yourself out. This is not okay what you’ve been doin’ to Davey. And this is really not okay, what happened with Davey last night.”

“No matter what you say, Frankie, there’s no excuse for your man hittin’ you.”

“Is there one for a man’s woman hittin’ him?” I shot back.

She didn’t reply.

“Okay, I know you know the answer to that is a big fat no. So now, tell me this: Is it okay for a man’s wife to keep f**kin’ around on him?” I asked.

“This is you givin’ me shit, Frankie,” she returned.

“This is shit you need, Nat,” I replied.

“No, ’cause see, I got his f**kin’ mother up in my shit and Ninette’s up in her shit and the phone won’t stop f**kin’ ringin’. I gotta work tonight and I don’t need more hassle. You’re hassle. So you’re wrong. I don’t need your shit because my life is pretty f**kin’ shit right now and I’m not lettin’ you make it more.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but the dead I got over the phone couldn’t be anything other than her hanging up on me.

Still, I called, “Nat?” But I got nothing.

I closed my eyes, took the phone from my ear, and saw the call had ended.