The Promise (The 'Burg #5)(62)

Vinnie was dead. I was alive. He made his choices, I talked to him (and yelled at him) until I was blue in the face to try to get him to make different ones.

He didn’t.

Now he was gone.

But I was not.

And now I was moving on and, in doing so, finding another man.

That man just happened to be his brother.

That was it. That was where life led me. If I let it and quit fighting it, it could be as simple as that.

For Benny, it was that simple.

And for Benny, I could find my way to making it that simple.

On that thought, my eyes drifted closed as the sounds of the shower came from the next room.

By the time the water went off, I was snoozing.

* * * * *

I sat next to Ben as he did the parallel parking thing in front of my apartment complex.

I did this pressing my lips together, and I was pressing my lips together because I was also watching Manny and a woman get out of a red Chevy Tahoe in front of us.

It was after my doctor’s appointment where the doc pronounced my improvement “gratifying” and reiterated what he’d told me in the hospital: that the stitches inside were “absorbable” and would dissolve on their own, and the “glue” on the outside was used for cosmetic purposes so my scarring would hopefully be minimal. He then ordered me to titrate the pain meds by only taking them if I really needed them and gave me the go-ahead for “slightly more strenuous activity and light exercise.”

I didn’t have the guts to ask if this included sexual intercourse because I was trying not to think of ha**ng s*x with Benny.

I wanted it. That was without a doubt.

But I’d had one lover and that lover shared things with Benny, so he knew things about me. Therefore, if I let my mind go there, I’d probably freak out. So I didn’t let my mind go there.

Now we were at my apartment to get my Z and I had another obstacle to face, and that was Manny, the last member of the Bianchi family who spent the last seven years firmly in the camp of Not My Biggest Fan. Unlike Benny (who had reason, considering what I did when I threw myself at him) and Theresa (who I could get, her not wanting to have bad thoughts about her son), Manny wasn’t ugly about it. He’d just cut me out of his life.

I’d been tight with him—not like with Ben, but we were close—and like losing all the Bianchis, that hurt.

Carmella, their sister, didn’t do any of that. She was the second oldest and she’d started her grown-up life early, getting married and popping out kids. Doing this, and being a girl, she matured a lot quicker. She saw how things were with Vinnie Junior and she was the first one to phone him and tell him, if he cast his lot with Sal, she’d put up with him when she came home, but outside of that, he was dead to her.

Then he cast his lot with Sal and he was dead to her.

She never blamed me. She knew what it was. So I never lost her.

It wasn’t like we chatted on the phone daily. But, then again, we didn’t do that shit when Vinnie was alive. But she sent me Christmas and birthday cards, the occasional email update, and I did the same with her.

I knew by the sheepish, hesitant look on Manny’s face as he peered into Benny’s SUV, that he wasn’t looking forward to facing me.

It turned out not to be too hard to let any of the Bianchis off the hook. The thing was, it just kept bringing it back when I was already struggling to move on.

Benny parked and I managed to hop out on my own, even in a pair of high-heeled, platform pumps. I tugged my jacket tighter around me, seeing as we’d hit October, and just that morning, Indian summer said sayonara.

Benny met me on the sidewalk and took my hand in a firm grip as he moved us toward Manny and his woman.

I decided to get it over with quickly and called, “Hey,” on a big smile when we were ten feet away.

Manny blinked in surprise and I saw his woman’s head twitch.

This made me focus on her.

When I did, I noted she was pretty and petite, not a surprise with Manny. He liked them small but rounded, always did. She had dark hair that had a lot of curl, pretty blue eyes, and was wearing much the same as me in a way that told me it wasn’t her normal uniform—platform heels, jacket, sweater, and jeans.

I also saw she seemed tense and I liked that. Not because she was tense, but because she obviously knew what was going down and, equally obviously, was anxious for her man.

In other words, I had to let her off the hook too.

So when we got close, I tugged my hand from Benny’s, moved right in, and gave Manny a hug.

It took him a second, but then his arms closed around me loosely.

They felt good there and there it was. It was done. Standing in Manny’s arms, I was officially back in the fold of the Bianchi family.

This made my voice husky when I said in his ear, “Thanks for gettin’ my car from Hart’s.” Then I gave him a squeeze, leaned back, and gave him a big smile.

He stared at me a second, surprise in his dark eyes, before he said quietly, “No problem, Frankie. Glad I could do somethin’.”

I kept smiling at him as I pulled away and shoved a hand toward his woman. “Hey, I’m Frankie.”

“Uh, Sela,” she replied, taking my hand, her eyes darting between Manny and me. I knew she didn’t want to be rude by not looking at me, but she wanted to take the pulse of her guy.

Yes, I liked her.