I close my eyes and count backwards from twenty while breathing in and out. I focus on slowing my breathing and getting my heart rate down. “Six of one half, dozen of the other? Sorry I didn’t realize it was such an issue until now. How in the hell can I even know if I’m capable of being in love Frankie? The only person I can honestly say I’ve ever loved is you. And the only person who loves me is you. And well... we’re not exactly normal babe.”
I hear Frankie start laughing beside me on the couch. I still have my eyes closed and am deep breathing to make sure I don’t have a full blown panic attack. “This is completely true. But then again I don’t think a six and a half foot butcher who doesn’t talk, has a beard that a small animal would love to claim as a nest, and hasn’t been on a date in six years can be considered normal either. There’s plenty about you to love Lindsay. Would you like a list? I might even be generous and alphabetize it for you.”
“I fucking love you. Come on let’s go get lunch. We can go to Cistin, and you can gorge yourself on mashed potatoes again.”
* * *
When we get to Cistin Willow practically runs over to greet us. I get such a kick out of Willow. She’s so different than we are but fits in with us perfectly, she is so shy and reserved it doesn’t seem like she would. She grabs two menus as she passes the hostess stand before giving us both a soft smile and softly asks, “Follow me, please.”
We follow her tall, slim body towards a table near the back. She has her pale brown hair plaited in a long braid that trails down her back over her white button up shirt. She pairs the shirt with a long black flowing skirt that looks supersoft. I look up and see Frankie eying the skirt and rubbing her fingers together. I know she wants to touch the skirt and see if it’s as soft as it looks.
“I’ll tell Joe and Maria that you’re here. Do you guys want your normal drinks?” She asks while looking down fiddling with our silverware and refusing to make eye contact. Initially, I thought she was too shy or something since she never made eye contact. It took both Frankie and I to figure out she is just extremely submissive, not sexually (that we know of) but in everyday life.
“Sure. When is your break? Can you sit down with us?” I try to hold back a soft chuckle as she blushes. It’s not mean, we would never tease her. We’re not judgemental in the slightest. It’s just cute how she blushes every time we ask her to join us.
“Yeah, I can sit down with you guys for a few minutes. Let me go get your drinks, and tell Joe you’re here.” She scurries off before we can say anything else, leaving the menus with us on the table. Frankie doesn’t even bother picking up the menu, which makes sense. She comes in and helps out in here when they’re understaffed. She stopped making her soap since she found out she was pregnant, she was afraid she might come into contact with bad fumes or a type of essential oil she should avoid. I hope she finds something to do soon. While she doesn’t need to work financially, she does for the rest of our sanity. I spot Joe leaving the kitchen and walking towards our table.
“So how’s the little parasite today?” I ask as I pull my feet under myself and get comfortable. I keep coming up with names to call the baby that will make Joe’s head explode. There really is something wrong with me, I love pushing people’s buttons and his are especially fun because of the throbbing vein in his forehead. I smile as he slams the baseball mitts he calls hands onto the table top.
“Our daughter is not a parasite. Don’t call him that,” he snarls before leaning over and giving Frankie a thorough but sweet kiss. I watch largely with curiosity and a small amount of envy as Joe runs a hand over her hair and she turns her head into his touch. Her eyes close and her lips curve into a satisfied small smile. I pull my phone out and snap a few quick pictures without them realizing it. I’ll get the best printed and give it to Frankie. They are so in love it’s sometimes sickening.
“Well, considering the little womb squatter is an organism living inside another, and is benefiting from leaching nutrients off of Frankie. I’m reasonably sure I could make an argument that they’re a parasite, just a really adorable one. And what’s with the son talk? I know for a fact that the ultrasound to check for gender is next week.” I state as I check a few things on my phone, luckily everything seems to be going well today with no fires to put out. I put my phone beside me on the booth and look up into Joe’s baffled face.
“Joe, you know how we are. Do you think there’s anything we don’t know about each other? Besides I have to go with you, so I can take the envelope from Frankie to Caro for the gender reveal cake.” At his confused vacant expression I continue, “We told you we would be coming in the day you found out the gender for a little party, at the party you guys cut the cake and find out if there’s a sausage or a clam.”
“I don’t want to wait and find out from a cake. Why are we going along with this insanity Pixie?” Joe pouts to Frankie. I give in to the laughter building from the sight, Joe looks like a big scruffy badass with his hair back in a manbun and all the tattoos, and he’s pouting at his soon to be wife since he doesn’t want to wait to find out the gender of their baby.
“Because you guys are the first to spawn, so suck it up Cupcake. You’ll only have to wait a few hours tops.” While I’m thinking about it I pull up my checklist and make sure I have everything ready to go for the party. I also pull up my checklist for the wedding. I finally got Frankie and Joe pinned down on a date and a location, now I need to make them pick their wedding party members and get a wedding dress for Frankie. I’ve already got the guest list based on info I already had on both of them. They need to look over the list and make the final approval, as well as the approval of the invitations as soon as possible.
“I bet Anthony would have no problem knocking you up. Then you can do all this crazy stuff with your own baby.” Joe’s verbal hand grenade is met with silence. I carefully place my phone on the table top and finally look up at Joe. Whatever weird expression is on my face has Frankie pushing Joe and whispering for him to run.
Instead of running the big idiot leans forward so close he’s almost into my personal bubble. “Anthony is a traditional type of guy even with all the ink and the bike, he’s going to want to get married and have a couple of kids to fill up that big house he remodeled. I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into if you and Anthony do go down this path.”
I freeze as I think about if I could give Anthony what he needs. I absolutely know nothing about family other than what I have with Frankie and our friends. I do pretty well with babies and kids when they’re older, but I can always give them back. I don’t have to deal with all the crap parts of parenting that you always hear people complaining about like lack of sleep and the terrible two’s. I look at Frankie, and I’m guessing my panic and racing thoughts all showed as she got to her knees and leaned over the table grabbing my face with both hands.
“Do not listen to the idiot I’m marrying. Anthony would do whatever it takes to make you happy. If you’re never ready for kids, he will respect that, but I think we have the cart way way way before the horse right now. Just act like you guys just met and started dating. You wouldn’t be questioning someone on the first date about if they want kids would you?” Frankie is using her soothe the lunatic voice.
“Except I don’t date Frankie, so I truthfully have no idea what the hell people talk about on first dates. And I do know Anthony. Which means I know I’m not good enough for him.” Even to me my voice sounds cold and dead. It’s my default to protect myself, if I don’t care then I can’t be hurt.
“That’s not it at all Lindsay. You’re perfect for each other, but you need to address issues like this. Hiding from your demons doesn’t make them go away. I need to know you’re both taking this seriously and not treating this like a lark, I don’t want either one of you hurt. To my surprise I actually like you both.” In shock I turn my head and see Joe sitting back in the booth staring at me steadily; his goddamn eyebrow is arched arrogantly.
I
nod and take a few deep breaths before answering him. “Ok, I promise that I’m taking this seriously. I also promise that one day Frankie and I will manage to wax that eyebrow off if you don’t get it under control.”
12
Lindsay
Once we get back from the restaurant, I haul myself and my issues up to my apartment. I’m on my third pass of the apartment, and I can’t find anything to clean, I already double checked all of my organization in the cupboards and closets. I plop myself down on the couch and Duchess apparently decides this means I’m ready to be her throne. I look down at her face and swear she arches an eyebrow like Joe. I take advantage of her tolerance for me today and start petting her, her fur is soft under my fingertips and I lose myself in the purrs rumbling from her fluffy body.
I’m trying everything I can to avoid thinking about what Joe brought up during lunch. I’ve always known Anthony was a traditional kind of guy. It’s one of the things I love about him actually. Like, Lindsay, like not love. Fuck I’m not even safe in my own thoughts lately. I’ve had decades of therapy by now, not to mention the psych classes I took. I can understand why someone like me, with no history, would be so fascinated by someone like Anthony.
His family’s history is well documented, from his Grandfather who moved from Italy and opened the first butcher’s shop to today with Anthony taking over more of the running of the shop. There’s a ton of information about his family back in Italy too. Everyone is fascinated by ancestry sites that allow you to track your family back for generations, every time I see a commercial or ad for one I want to scream.
There’s an entire subset of the population that hates those commercials. Kids that are adopted and don’t know anything about their past, orphaned kids that don’t have any of the information needed to trace theirs, kids who only have one parent; almost all of us hate those commercials because they reinforce what we’re missing.
In school when we’re studying dominant and recessive traits, we’re the ones who can’t fill out the chart about our families to show how we got our detached earlobes from Dad and freckles from Mom. Or in my science class we’re not the kid who suddenly realizes his parentage isn’t what he’s always been told it was. We can’t start at where we are and go back knowing if we have blue eyes, it means both of our parents had to have blue eyes. So we have meaningless data that doesn’t explain why we were left or abandoned or given away.
Also, Anthony is a protector. I’m truthfully surprised he didn’t buck his father’s wishes and become a police officer or join the military in some way. It would have been a perfect fit for him, and it would have allowed him to protect more people than just those he considers his family. To someone who grew up like I did, someone who wants to protect you all the time is both a gift and a curse. You can rely on someone else for once to protect you, but at the back of your mind is the fear that they’ll stop or won’t do a good job.
My reverie is broken up when I hear the buzzer for the door goes off. I stand up and bring Duchess with me to the video monitor. I feel a jolt go through me when I see it’s Anthony calmly standing on my front stairs. I expected him to give me some space and time after yesterday, he’s a patient type of guy normally. I go ahead and hit the button to let him in. I unlock my door and leave it open behind me as I walk to the fridge. I jump a minute later when I hear Anthony run the final few feet into my apartment, whirling to face him.
“Lindsay, I know how much security you guys have in place. But for the sake of my heart, please fucking leave the door closed. I see your door open and all I think is it’s a crime scene or something.” He slams the door behind him in an uncharacteristic show of temper. He runs his hands through his hair, clenching his fists and tugging on it. I’m not used to seeing him agitated like this. Even when his dad had his heart attack he was definitely depressed but he wasn’t agitated.
“Why the fuck would you think it’s a crime scene? Is it because of what I told you? I was afraid you were going to.” I find myself cut off when Anthony steps directly in front of me and grabs my hips shocking me to silence. His normal chocolate brown eyes are blazing with emotion. He’s normally so calm and collected and stoic, so seeing him like this makes me want to poke at him to see what reaction I get.
“Why would I think that? Do you remember a few months ago when the production floor was a crime scene? Do you know how fucking scary it was seeing all the police go flying up the street? Then when your neighbor Mrs. D called and could just tell me the cops were at your building but she didn’t know what was going on, I was fucking terrified Lindsay. I didn’t know what your past was just that it was ugly and made you paranoid about safety, so my first thought was that it caught up to you,” he rants angrily. Despite how angry he is his hands are still gentle.
“I’m sorry Anthony. I was shook up that day with what happened to Frankie. I didn’t think of how it must have looked to you. Today I knew it was you, and I wanted to grab you a beer while you were coming up the steps,” I explain as I walk over to the fridge and grab a couple of beers for us.
Before I have a chance to give Anthony his beer he grabs me by my hips again, this time he picks me up and sets me on the counter before taking one of the beers out of my hand. Keeping eye contact with me he brings the bottle to his mouth and tilts it to take a deep swallow.
“Ok but from now on, door shut please?” he asks as he lowers the beer and his hand to rest on the counter next to my hip. I take the time to look over his appearance and am shocked that his hair’s a mess. Everything else about him looks the same except his hair. It always looks amazing and right now it’s all over the place. I nod my agreement and reach out to try to push his hair back into order.
At the first touch of my fingers he goes completely still. I run them through his hair making sure there are no knots before trying to shoving his hair back into place. I need pomade and a comb if I want to get his hair how it normally looks but I don’t have either of those on me right now so I just finger comb it to the side and marvel at how long his hair is as the ends reach his jaw when they’re not combed back. His hair’s actually longer than mine, mine only goes to mid ear when I comb it to the side like his is.
I lean forward and lightly brush my lips against his. I feel him jolt like a shot of electricity passes through him too. I’ve never felt anything like it before in my life and just know I need more. I lick the seam of his lips trying to coerce him into opening his mouth for me. If a simple closed mouth kiss can affect me so much, I’m not sure I will be able to survive an open mouthed kiss with our tongues tangling together but I’m desperate to find out. His lips part but instead of allowing my tongue access his pushes into mine and twines with my tongue. His free hand is holding my head still for his passionate oral assault. His thumb brushes my temple toying with the baby fine wisps of hair there while his palm tilts my head and jaw to the angle he wants, his long fingers stretching to play with the fine hair at the back of my neck.
The sparks that pass through me have my entire body tingling and overly sensitive. Every inch of my skin feels alive and is straining for Anthony’s touch. My nipples tighten to diamonds and are starting to get painful with how hard they are. I feel my pussy clench with anticipation while my clit pulses with my thunderous heartbeat. My hands drop to Anthony’s massive shoulders and dig in trying to pull him closer to me. I want to wrap my legs around his toned waist, but he keeps himself back just far enough that I can’t.
Anthony pulls back from the kiss, and we’re both breathing hard staring at each other. I don’t know why he stopped kissing me, I’m more than ready for him to pick back up where we left off at. What I’m not ready for is him tracing my eyebrow with his thumb and bringing his beer bottle to his lips for a deep swallow. I feel my face pulling into a frown while he mumbles about how I’m killing him.
“Come on Babe, we’re going to dinner before I do something I’ll regret.” He pulls me tight when I start struggling to get away from his words. No one wants t
o think of being a regret. “I didn’t mean like that Inferna Gattina, calm down. I meant taking you before we were ready. I don’t want to rush you.”
“We’ve known each other for ten years Anthony! Even sloths would agree we’re not rushing anywhere!” I struggle in his arms again, this time not to get away but so I can smack some sense into the stupid man. Then convince him to pick up where he left off.
“Stop, please. It’s just important to me for both of our sakes that we’re not skipping steps in this relationship. I need to make sure you understand this isn’t just some hormonal sex based fling.” I feel myself freeze at his words, despite not wanting to be in a rush I feel like he is. Then I feel ridiculous about thinking of sex as less serious than a relationship, but truthfully for a lot of people it is. “Let’s go out on a couple dates, we’ll get used to seeing each other as more than friends and then we can see how we both feel and go from there.”
“So pretty much I have to take you out on three dates so you can make sure I’m not using you for sex and will still respect you in the morning?” I tease as I feel him start to relax under my hands. I didn’t realize how important this must be to him until I felt the tension leave when I agreed to this ridiculous idea. We’ve known each other ten years, if he wants to make us wait three dates that’s fine with me since I know how important it is to Anthony. “Can we count yesterday as date one? It had food and entertainment.”
“No, you have to take me out in public and keep your tiny little hands to yourself for it to count,” he replies as he lifts me off the counter and leads me to the door where my shoes and purses are. I guess we’re getting date one out of the way tonight.
13
Lindsay
I will never ever, even under the pain of torture admit this, but I think Anthony might have been right. It’s been almost a week since we had our epic kiss and showdown in my kitchen. We’re on date number three finally. The first two dates were normal dinners out at some of our favorite restaurants around the city. I held back from telling Anthony the fact that he knew my favorite places meant I was right.
Big Meat (A Recipe of Love Book 2) Page 8
