At Peace (The ‘Burg #2)(98)
Author: Kristen Ashley

I should have never forgotten.

But I did and therefore hissed, “It has a bandage on it, Joe.”

The minute I uttered his name, his face changed. I watched stunned, spellbound, as his eyes got soft and his face turned tender. He’d never looked at me like that, not ever, and my stomach got soft again, and warm, my heart started beating harder and I couldn’t help but lean closer, drawn by the power and beauty of that look aimed at me.

His hand came up, cupped my jaw and I was so thrown, I didn’t jerk my head away.

And I still didn’t when his mouth touched mine. He’d done that before, definitely, but never that way, never with that tenderness.

I felt my chest rising and falling because I found it difficult to breathe as his head bent, his mouth coming to my ear on the opposite side so Kate, Keira and Benny couldn’t see or hear him.

“Your foot stays off the floor until Manny comes back with your flip-flops. Yeah?” he whispered in my ear.

“Okay,” I replied instantly, whispering too.

His hand still at my jaw stayed at my jaw and he continued whispering. “Awhile ago, after I installed the system, when you were bein’ a bitch, we were in your livin’ room, you remember what I said?”

I remembered, I remembered like it happened yesterday. He’d said he was going to spank me and play with me until I begged and squirmed.

The memory made me squirm in the booth but I nodded.

His hand at my jaw tensed then he threatened, “You call me anything but Joe again, honey, that’s what you’ll get.”

I swallowed.

“Yeah?” he prompted.

“Okay,” I whispered.

“Good.”

He bent his head further, kissed my neck and then his hand dropped from my jaw and he sat back.

Benny, Kate and Keira were all staring at us. Benny was smiling, huge. Kate was too. Keira looked slightly angry but more confused and I didn’t blame her as I was feeling the exact same way.

“Well, Joe,” Benny started, still smiling. “See you got your hands full.”

“Yeah,” Joe replied, giving my thigh a squeeze and sounding like he didn’t mind at all. In fact, sounding like the idea of having his hands full was something he liked.

A lot.

“Glad to see it, cugino,” Benny said, his smile smaller but his eyes had gone intense and he repeated, his voice low, heavy, even gruff and just as intense as the look he was aiming at his cousin. “Glad to see it.”

I avoided his eyes, Kate’s, Keira’s, Joe’s and I decided to let my leg over Joe’s go, Manny would be back soon (I hoped).

Then I grabbed another breadstick.

Chapter Fifteen

Mike Wins

I woke up, belly to the bed, one knee cocked but I kept my eyes closed, letting my senses test the bed, the room, listening for breathing, feeling for heat, hardness.

Nothing.

I opened my eyes and saw the bed beside me was empty.

Then I rolled to my back and saw the bed behind me was also empty (not Joe’s side so this wasn’t a surprise).

I stared at the ceiling and listened for noises in the bathroom.

Nothing.

Maybe I dreamed it.

I looked to the clock and it was after ten in the morning.

Late. Very late.

Then I sighed and looked at the ceiling again, all of it, the rest of last night and after we got home, tumbling into my head.

The breadsticks at Vinnie’s Pizzeria were good. The antipasto platter yummy. The pie was the best pizza I’d ever had and I’d done copious pizza tasting research so it might be the best pizza ever made. The mascarpone cheesecake was sublime (the girls had big bowls of spumoni ice cream, homemade, I’d tasted it and even with a gun to my head, I couldn’t have told you if the ice cream or cheesecake was better). And the Chianti couldn’t be beat. I’d never had better wine in my life.

This might have been why I drank the whole bottle.

Or, perhaps, it was because we were at the restaurant for hours.

The entire time we ate, and after, Vinnie, Theresa, Manny and Benny all came and went, sitting and chatting, standing and chatting. Between pizza and dessert, Vinnie came and got the girls in order to give them a tour of the kitchen while Theresa sat on their side and chatted to Joe and me. Then Vinnie came back with the girls and Theresa took them on a tour of the front of the house while Vinnie sat with us and chatted. Then we had dessert.

Then later, when most of the customers were gone (and all of my wine was gone), Theresa took me on a tour of the photos, most of which she told me she took herself. As she moved me around the restaurant, she shared stories of her kids, her brothers, sisters, Vinnie’s sister (Cal’s Mom), her aunts and uncles, Vinnie’s aunts and uncles and all her kids’ grandparents. There was love in her voice and laughter as she guided me around the room, smiling at her remaining customers, pointing at photos, sharing her life and her family through her words and her remarkable pictures.

I couldn’t help but smile and laugh with her, even when she talked about Cal who sounded like a lovable hooligan (as told by her). He also definitely sounded like a member of the family, the unit, one of her kids, not a nephew and I learned this was because, once his Mom died and his Dad lost it, Vinnie and Theresa had weekend and vacation adopted him. If he didn’t have to go to school the next day or he wasn’t in juvie, he was in Chicago at their house in the bunk bed over Vinnie Junior.

The girls joined me halfway through the photo tour, listening and appearing even more fascinated than me. Vinnie joined us at the end when we were at the front of the restaurant staring at a photo, place of honor, right when you hit the hostess station, the biggest one in the house.

It was taken at the front of the restaurant and it depicted Vinnie and a taller man, even more handsome than Vinnie (who was hot when he was younger). That man was Joe’s father, Big Joe (Vinnie told me) and he and Vinnie were standing together in the middle of the grouping. Theresa was on Vinnie’s right, Angela, Joe’s Mom, on her husband’s left. A young Joe was standing in front of her, her hand on his shoulder, her husband’s arm around Angela’s shoulders, holding her snug to his side. Vinnie Junior with his sister Carmella in front of Theresa and Vinnie, Benny, a toddler, on her hip, Manny in Theresa’s swollen belly. All of them were laughing, even the kids, even baby Benny had his head tipped back and was smiling up at his mother.

Cal was six in that photo, we knew this because Vinnie told us.

“Two days later, they found the tumor,” he said softly and I heard Kate and Keira join me in pulling in breath. “Two years after that, almost to the day that picture was taken, Angela lost her fight.”