The Promise (The 'Burg #5)(57)
I made a grab for my glass, saying, “I’m sure it’ll be all right.”
Ben pulled back the glass, saying, “I’m not, so you’re gonna be safe.”
I focused on him. “Ben, just a glass.”
“Francesca, no.”
It was then I glared at him and declared, “Already this is not a fun date.”
This did not perturb him in the slightest and I knew that when he stated, “It’ll be less fun you have a seizure or go to sleep and don’t wake up or start gettin’ sick or whatever the reason is they put on that leaflet you shouldn’t drink while on those pills.”
“It’s probably not that dramatic.”
“Babe, you’ve been shot. Against all that’s holy in a Chicago that is not the bootlegging, roaring twenties, your man decided to become a wise guy and ended up whacked. Your brother is about to go bankrupt due to the child support he’ll be payin’, or his story will be a made-for-TV movie when all those bitches he’s tagging or recently tagged lose their minds and turn on him and/or each other. You’re a drama magnet. You wanna flirt with that, proves you’re the nut I know you to be. But you aren’t gonna do it on my watch.”
“How is it that you can make being rational and protective so incredibly annoying?” I asked on a snap, and he grinned.
“It’s a gift.”
I rolled my eyes.
Benny took a sip from my Champagne glass.
I snapped my menu open and proceeded to study it with the intention of memorizing every word, even if it took me all night.
Unfortunately, it would be rude to make the waiter keep coming back to the table to ask if we were ready to order. So the first time he showed, I ordered the fried calamari, the spinach salad, and the lobster risotto, the last being the most expensive thing on the menu.
I ended my order with, “Later, don’t trouble yourself with offering us a look at the dessert tray. Just bring it.”
He bowed his head to me and looked to Benny, who placed his own order and ended it with, “Your bartender got it in him to make a virgin Bellini?”
I pressed my lips together because I loved Bellinis. They were my favorite. Benny obviously remembered and it was sweet that he did.
“I’m sure he does,” the waiter replied.
“Right, then bring my girl one and be certain she doesn’t have an empty glass.”
The waiter nodded, took his menu to add to the one he’d divested me of, and swept away.
Ben looked at me. “Good to know Lincoln’s didn’t shave the edge off that appetite.”
I grabbed my napkin, snapped it out to my side, and put it on my lap.
Benny continued as I did so, “Also good to know I’ll need to give myself a raise so I can take you out occasionally and be able to afford it.”
I crossed my legs under the table and moved a hand in order to arrange my cutlery so it was meticulously positioned around the plate sitting in front of me, even though it was already meticulously positioned.
“Francesca,” he called.
I cut my eyes to him. “What?”
“I’d buy you a plate piled high with sapphires and be happy sittin’ across from you as you picked through them, even if you were doin’ it pissed at me for being rational and protective.”
My stomach dropped, my heart squeezed, and I leaned into him to hiss, “Stop bein’ awesome.”
He threw his head back and laughed, showing me he didn’t intend to stop being awesome because he looked good and sounded good doing it.
When he was down to chuckling, his hand darted across the table and closed around mine. Twisting, he forced his fingers to lace through mine and rested our hands on the table.
Once he’d accomplished that, he looked into my eyes and stated, “Been waitin’ years for this, baby. Thanks for makin’ it worth the wait.”
“You’re still bein’ awesome,” I informed him.
“Yeah, and it’s cute as f**k that annoys you.”
“Now you’re bein’ awesome and insane,” I shared.
His head cocked slightly to the side. “A man likes what he likes. I’m a man who likes you and your attitude.”
“Whatever,” I muttered, even though I liked that he liked that and I liked it a lot.
“What makes you happy?” he asked suddenly, and I felt my body jolt at the question, not just because it was sudden, but because it was unexpectedly weighty.
“What?”
“What makes you happy? What do you want outta life?”
“I…” I started, then changed what I was going to say. “Why do you ask?”
“’Cause I wanna know if it’s in me to give it to you.”
God.
Benny.
“Ben,” I whispered.
“I want kids. Three, four. Boys and girls, but however they come, doesn’t matter to me,” he put out there. “That’s it. I’m good at the restaurant. Comfortable with the money I got in the bank. I get the kids, eventually gotta buy a bigger house. And told you the woman I wanted. So there it is. That’s what I want outta life. That’s what would make me happy.”
He gave me that. No coaxing, no bullshit, no games, no holding shit back, waiting to see where I was and if I fit.