“Talkin’ about makin’ your house a home, Benny.”
Fucking shit.
“For me or for you and me?” he pressed, and her face went blank.
That was when he knew she had no idea what it meant, all she was saying.
He had an idea of what it meant. He just hoped like fuck he was right.
So he kept pushing.
“You movin in with me?”
Her voice was breathy and her hold on Gus was close when she replied with a question.
“You askin’ me?”
“Take you today, you could swing it,” he answered.
“Benny,” she whispered, face soft, eyes now just holding marvel and love.
A lot of love.
Christ, she was all the way across the kitchen and she had so much love shining out of her eyes, he felt it warm every inch of his body.
He took that as a yes.
And there it was. His birthday just kept getting better.
“You gonna be able to swing that?” he asked.
“I…I have a lease.”
“When’s it run out?”
“October.”
“Then you move in in October,” he declared.
“Ben, I work in Indianapolis,” she said quietly.
“You travel half the time, they got no problem with you workin’ from here. Ask ’em if you can have a home office in Chicago and conference in for meetings. You in my bed, my house, got no problem with clearing out that basement, gettin’ a computer with Internet, and givin’ you a guestroom so your fucked-up family can stay, drive us crazy, and we can celebrate when they get the fuck out.”
She stared at him but said nothing.
“You think they’ll go for that?” he asked.
“I think, come my one-year anniversary, which is the same month my lease runs out, if they don’t, then I’ll quit and find a job in Chicago.”
Jesus.
Jesus.
“Come here, Frankie,” he growled.
“No. I do, you’re gonna get busy with me and the cake will burn.”
“Come here, cara.”
“No, I can tell by your face you’re happy and I’m super happy and all that happy is gonna translate into ruined birthday cake.”
“Baby. Put the dog down and come…here.”
She bent to put Gus on the floor and came to him. When she got close, he guided her ass in his lap and rounded her with his arms. As he did this, Frankie wrapped hers around his shoulders.
When he had her where he wanted her, he said softly, “Best birthday ever.”
Beauty saturated her features, more than he’d ever seen from her, and he’d spent decades seeing a lot of beauty from Francesca Concetti.
“My awesome Benny,” she replied in a whisper, her arms tightening, one hand finding his neck and curling around, but her body melted into his.
“You’ve made me happy, tesorina.”
“I’m glad.”
“Kiss me, Frankie.”
“Okay, Benny.”
She put her lips to his, but it was Benny who took her mouth, leaning into her, bending her back, and drinking deep, one of his hands going down, then up her shirt and down again in her panties to cup her bare ass, both her hands diving into his hair.
He broke the kiss but didn’t move far away and waited for her eyes to slowly open, giving him crazy-beauty before he said, “Love you, Francesca.”
“Love you too, honey.”
He grinned, held her closer, but ordered, “Now go make frosting.”
She rolled her eyes, but she also pushed up, he went with her, and she climbed out of his lap.
After that, Gus under her feet, tripping her up, and her not minding, Frankie made frosting.
***
“Okay,” Frankie said, skip-walking into his bedroom that night.
It was after the dinner she’d made him (roast beef tenderloin, boiled new potatoes, asparagus coated in oil and toasted sesame seeds, and rolls Mrs. Zambino bought the day before from the bakery). It was after cake. It was after he told her he wanted her ass upstairs because he wanted to see another nightie. She showed him and wore it for about five minutes before he took it off so she could sit on his face and he could have his mouth on her while she used hers on him.
She’d put the nightie back on (red satin with a sheer panel around the hem and matching panties that had sheer at the ass, sweet but nowhere as sweet as the plum one) and gone back downstairs to grab his presents from where she’d hid them.
Now she was back, hands behind her, hiding the presents from view.
She hopped on the bed, walked on her knees to him, and flopped down to a hip before one arm came out and she slapped a mostly square, thin, large wrapped package on his chest.
“That one’s the goofy one,” she declared. “You get the good stuff second.”
He’d already had the good stuff.
She knew that so he didn’t tell her. He just opened the present and he did it with her talking.
“The first one may be goofy, but it was way harder to find. I had to order it off the Internet since they don’t sell them this time of year. I also had to find one you’d like, but they kinda don’t make those things for guys. Or, not guys like you. Still, it isn’t about tits and ass or muscle cars, which would be something I wouldn’t want to look at, but it isn’t too girlie, which is something you would toss in the trash, so I think I did all right.”
The paper off, he turned it in his hands and saw a calendar for that year, its theme: photos of Lake Michigan.
There was no cellophane on it. It had been opened.
Ben held it in his hands, stared at it, and stopped breathing.
“See? Totally goofy,” she stated, not sensing the change his mood was making in the room, just reaching out to pull the calendar from his hand and babbling. “Yours is, like, ten years old. Crazy. So it’s kind of a joke but kind of not.” She started flipping through and found what she wanted, showing him a month that had her writing in the little squares and flipping to the next, which had more of her writing. “See, I wrote all the birthdays in: Man, Sela, Vinnie Senior, Theresa, Carm, Ken, and the kids. I put Vi and Cal and all the girls in there, and Manny and Sela’s wedding date.”
Benny’s eyes looked at the calendar and his heart started jackhammering.
“And here,” she said, flipping back. “I put all my travel schedule in that I have set, all the times and flight numbers and hotel stuff and everything. You can write in the stuff that comes up.”
She stopped yapping, finally looked at him, and when she did, she went visibly still.
They stared at each other a couple of beats before she said hesitantly, totally not reading him, “The other present is a lot better, Benny.”
“Only one thing I want in my life,” he declared.
“Wh-what?” she stammered.
“All my life, didn’t have big hopes and dreams. Only one thing I wanted.”
“I…” She swallowed, kept her eyes locked to him, and asked, “What was that, honey?”
“A life that meant I’d have a calendar on my kitchen wall filled in with birthdays and anniversaries and parties and practices and special occasions. All the shit that makes a good life scribbled in the blocks printed on glossy paper hangin’ on a wall.”
Her eyes grew bright and her breath grew shallow.
“You gonna give that to me?” he asked.
“Yes, Benny,” she responded instantly.
Instantly.
Yeah.
She was going to give that to him.
And he was going to give it to her.
The…best…fucking…birthday…ever.
“No lip, no shit, come here right now, Frankie,” he ordered.
She tossed the calendar aside to land on the bed and she came to him immediately.