Chapter 197

The next morning I wake up in Frankie’s arms, my back pressed to his front, and I bite my lip to hold in my little squeak of happiness. Because absolutely everything about this feels perfectly right – warm, and safe, and correct, and good.

And I know – I know that crossing that line with Frankie makes me an adulteress, and a bad person, and that I betrayed Christian and left him for his friend. But with this as the result – waking up in a beautiful old Portuguese manor wrapped up in the arms of the man who has become my best friend, who has always been there for me, who saved me from a life that would have made me miserable, maybe even killed me?

Right now, I can’t be anything but happy and grateful for this. For him.

I snuggle down in the blankets for a moment, pressing myself closer to Frankie’s body, savoring the warm feel of him even as I know that I’m already running late – that I’ve got to get down to the kitchen and start breakfast for about thirty people. But…I also can’t resist one more indulgent little moment.

Frankie’s arm wraps more tightly around me and he nuzzles closer, pressing his cheek to the back of my head. “If I’m dreaming,” he murmurs, “don’t wake me up.”

“You think this is a dream, Frank?” I whisper, grinning, savoring the feel of him breathing behind me, the way his breaths slowly fill his chest against my back.

“Hmmm,” he murmurs, noncommittal. “Considering I’ve been dreaming of precisely this for months now…yeah, chances are, it’s a dream. So, please be kind, Bambina, and leave me to my delusions.”

“Delusions,” I say, laughing and turning so that I face him, looping my leg up over his hip, slipping my arms around his neck so I peer closely at his cute features. “I’m just a delusion to you?” Frankie keeps his eyes closed but clasps his arms loosely around my waist, the corners of his lips turning up.

“Some kind of smokin’ hot fever dream, Bambi, yes,” he says, and when I laugh and open my mouth to counter with something not very clever, he cuts me off by pulling me closer, by bringing his mouth to mine and kissing me, sweet and pure and natural, like we’ve been doing it every morning for a year. A decade.

After a moment I break the kiss, softly stroking his cheek with my thumb. “You’re a dream too, Francisco,” I murmur, using his new Portuguese name and making him laugh, slow and soft. “This whole life is.”

“If it’s a dream,” he murmurs. “You’d think we’d have hot water in our bathroom. We’ve got to get better at this whole dreaming thing.”

I laugh at this, genuinely, and Frankie slips his eyes open, already starting to shake his head and tighten his arms.

“Let go,” I say, laughing and giving his forearm a smack. “I have to –“

“No, you’re just going to leave,” he sighs. “It’s horrible, every day, when you do that.”

“But someone has to start the eggs,” I whisper.

Frankie considers this but then shakes his head, keeping his arms tight.

“And the coffee,” I continue, a smile spreading across my face.

Frankie pauses again, but then sighs and breaks. “Fine, Bambina,” he sighs, rolling over and tossing his arm over his face, quite dramatic. “For the coffee…I’ll let you go. This once.”

I laugh and lean in, giving him a kiss on the cheek as he idly swats a hand at my ass, giving it a satisfying smack that makes me laugh again. I dip into our tiny little bathroom and freshen up before grabbing some clothes off the shelf – a pretty long skirt and a sweater – and tugging them on. By the time I turn towards the door, I see that Frankie’s fallen asleep in bed again.

I take a moment then to just look at him – to admire the sharp curve of his jaw, his full lips, so ready to smile, his slightly lanky but well-muscled form. And I wonder…how I ever missed it, how beautiful he is. I guess I was just blinded, swept away by the Mafia King, next to whom everyone kind of pales.

And in doing so, I missed the fact that all along…this one was my match. My Frankie.

“Love you,” I whisper from the door, passively, not really aware that I’m saying the words aloud.

But Frankie’s eye peeks open and his mouth bursts into a beautiful smile, his dimples flaring. “Love you to, Bambs,” he says, heaving a pretty sigh. “Now go make my coffee, before I change my mind and haul you back into this bed!”

I laugh and slip out the door, almost skipping down the stairs, my very real happiness singing through my veins.

Work goes quickly in the kitchen, as it always does. Matilde calls some greetings to me in Portuguese, which I return – honestly, after two months I’m surprised by how much I’ve picked up – and then I grab my apron and quickly tie it on, getting to work.

The workers begin to filter through the large kitchen about half an hour later, claiming their plates and their cups of coffee and tea, each giving Matilde and me warm greetings in whatever language is their native tongue. When Frankie comes for his plate I beam at him, marshalling all the self-control I have not to drop it onto the counter and throw myself into his arms.

Frankie beams right back at me, clearly reading the impulse in me and giving me a wink as I fill him a mug of coffee, pressing it into his hand. I lose myself in the work as he walks to the table to eat with his friends. I hum happily as I wash the dishes and clean up, thinking passively about what’s growing in the garden that we can pick and serve along with dinner.

A warm hand presses to my shoulder a little later as I work, and I turn to see Frankie there, murmuring his daily goodbyes and leaning in for his usual daily kiss on the cheek.

I step close to him for a second, wanting to kiss him for real, but then I hesitate as I look over at some of the other workers who are waiting for Frankie, suddenly awkward and unsure about just how much affection we’re supposed to show to each other in front of everyone else.

Frankie presses that habitual kiss to my cheek and then straightens. I clasp my hands behind my back, beaming up into his face, and we take a moment just…staring at each other.

As we do, his smile deepens and he shakes his head once. “Ah, screw it,” he murmurs, and then he snatches me up into his arms, spinning me around in a circle as I shriek with laughter and then take his face in my hands, leaning in for a kiss – a real one.

It’s only a moment, as Frankie presses me tight to his chest, his arms firmly around me, smiling as he kisses me, warm and happy and deep. But as he pulls away and lets me slide back down to my feet a cheer goes up in the kitchen. I turn in surprise to see the other workers tossing their hands in the air, Matilde with her hands clasped happily beneath her chin, and I blush to realize that…

Well, that maybe everyone has been more aware of our situation than I realized. And that they’ve been kind of…rooting for us.

Frankie laughs, calling something out to them in Portuguese and waving them away with one hand as he turns to me, stroking the other down the length of my hair. “See you in a few hours, Bambs,” he murmurs, leaning in to press his lips once again to mine, just briefly.

“Don’t miss me too much,” I whisper, teasing, grinning at him.

“Oh, impossible,” he says, smirking and already starting away from me, walking backwards so he doesn’t have to take his eyes off me. “Already do.”

I bite my lip against my smile as I watch him disappear out the door with the rest of the workers who clap him eagerly on the back, already ribbing and teasing him as they walk towards the fields.

Matilda comes eagerly to my side, wrapping her arms around my waist and beaming up at me. I laugh and grin down at her, slipping an arm around her frail shoulders.

“Feliz,” she says, making my smile deepen as she nods sagely at me, because I know the word for happy already. “Esta Feliz, esta bom.”

I nod eagerly to her, because she’s right – it is happy, and it is good.

She laughs and nods back to me and then, to my surprise, Matilde straightens up and lifts one hand from my waist, raising it to my chest and cupping my left breast, hefting it a little like she’s trying to figure out the weight. She smiles at me as she does this, her eyes crinkling as my eyes flare wide, my mouth circling into an “o.”

“Mudancas em breve,” she says, giving me a happy wink. “Ele sera um bom pai.”

Then, as I just stare at Matilde in shock, she nods to me once and moves away to the sink, starting to sing an old Portuguese song that’s one of the regulars in her rotation as she begins to wash the dishes.

But I just stand perfectly still because…I mean, because I didn’t understand all of what she said but…

But that last words were “good father,” and ele sera…the future tense for…he will be…

I stop breathing, all blood draining from my face as I raise my own hand to my breast, feeling it. Feeling that it…it is larger, and more tender, than it usually is…

Suddenly I force my mind backwards, trying to remember if I’ve had…

But no…no, somehow, idiot that I am, I’ve been so distracted and that I’ve completely missed the fact that I haven’t had my period in...

Two months. Two months in Europe, and never had my period…

Suddenly I groan, and fall to the floor, bursting into tears as I bury my face in my hands.