The Promise(68)

The crack that split between us further when he took up with Sal…

It tore us apart.

I just wouldn’t admit to it or give up.

I knew that now, forced to come to terms with it in Vinnie’s brother’s bed.

And lying in that bed after having a hint of Benny Bianchi’s good morning for the first time, a hint that was sweet and sexy, a hint that I knew could only get bigger and better, the thing that hit me was that it wouldn’t matter whose bed I was in. I would think back to what I’d had and how it went bad. I would make the comparisons. Unless I continued to live my life as I was the seven years before I was shot, which I didn’t intend to do, I would find a man and as I adjusted to a new person in my life, those thoughts were bound to drift through my head. In order to get healthy mentally and get on with my life, I would eventually have to come to terms with it.

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 having sex 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.