It was settled—had been there over a century and the surrounding inhabitants were mostly Italian American families whose relatives had lived in that ’hood for generations and weren’t going to give it up.

Once he got the house, he got rid of his muscle car and bought an SUV.

And he eventually took over the pizzeria from his old man.

He still f**ked everything that moved, but I paid attention to the talk. I knew some of the women he took to his bed. I knew exactly when it went from being about getting off to being about finding the right one.

Sure, he would have his times that were just about getting laid.

But Benny started to move down the path that I knew was leading him to find someone who would help him build a solid family and create a good home.

Vinnie never did that. Vinnie had no interest in that path. He only was interested in his path, however murky, and he dragged me along with him.

The problem was, I let him.

On this thought, I sensed movement and cast my eyes down my body to see Ben walking in. He was carrying a pint glass filled with ice and purple liquid in one hand, a little pharmacy pill bottle in the other.

I pushed up to sitting as Benny hit my side of the bed. He put the stuff on the nightstand and leaned into me in order to arrange pillows behind my back. When he was done, I scooted up the bed to rest on the pillows and Ben went to the bottle.

I had the glass by the time he handed me the pill.

I took the medicine and decided not to argue when Ben sat his ass, hip to mine, on the bed.

“Pizza’s comin’,” he stated.

“Okay,” I replied, putting the glass on the nightstand.

“Read your doctor’s notes,” he told me and I looked his way.

That was none of his business and he knew it.

I decided not to share that that irked me, and just how much, and stayed silent.

“Wants you to make a checkup appointment next week. I’ll get Ma on that.”

I did not want Theresa “on that.” I was quite capable of making a phone call to set an appointment with my own freaking doctor.

I decided not to give him that information either.

“He wants you movin’ around. Not much at first, but he wants you active.”

“Okay,” I repeated.

“And he says for a few days you can’t shower without someone close.”

Again, we were in dangerous territory. Dangerous for Benny because he was not going to go there. He could kidnap me (because he did). He could put me in his bed (because he did).

But he wasn’t getting anywhere near me in a shower.

“If you think—” I started.

“I don’t,” he cut me off. “But I want Ma around when you do it. I have a friend whose woman had surgery. They weren’t livin’ together then and she’s independent, thinks she can do it all, she decided to take a shower by herself. But when she took off the bandage and saw that shit, she freaked and passed out. Hit her head on the tub. Gave herself a concussion and another hospital stay. So you let Ma help you out and you let her dress your wound. You don’t want that, you got a girl, I’ll let you call her. You don’t let Ma do it or make a call, not f**kin’ with you, Francesca, you’ll shower with me in this room, the door open, and I’ll dress your wound.”

I was about to serve the attitude when it hit me this was an excellent idea.

If I called one of my friends, I could enlist her in helping me escape.

“I’ll phone a friend,” I told him, but I forced it to sound annoyed so he wouldn’t cotton on to my game.

“Good,” he muttered.

“Did you buy my tapioca?” I asked.

His eyes lit with humor, and when they did, I remembered how very much I liked that in a way that made me wonder, if I had a different kind of life—in other words, I’d made smarter decisions in the life I had—if I would ever get used to that. Watching Benny Bianchi’s eyes light with humor. Feeling that light shine on me, making me warm all over, even on the inside. If that would ever become commonplace.

But I’d never have that life.

Still, I knew if I had it, if Ben and I had a year together or fifty of them, I’d go for that light. I’d work for it. I’d do it every day for fifty years.

And I’d never get used to the warmth it would give me.

“Yeah,” he answered.

“A trashy novel?” I pushed.

More humor in his eyes and a, “Fuck no.”

“Benny, TV and magazines aren’t gonna get me very far.”

“Seein’ as you got my company tonight, Ma and me tomorrow, not to mention one of your girls comin’ over to help you shower, you’ll be good. After tomorrow, I’ll send Ma out to buy you some smut. That’ll mean she’ll do it after goin’ to church and lightin’ a candle in aid of your soul, but she’ll do it.”

She would. There was a breach to heal. She’d frown on my smut, but she’d buy it for me.

“I was kinda hopin’ that tonight you’d bring me pizza, leave me alone, and go watch the game downstairs,” I noted.

“You’d be hopin’ wrong since your ass is walkin’ down the stairs to have dinner with me at the kitchen table so you can get some exercise in. After that, we’re watchin’ whatever we watch up here together, in my bed, ’cause I know you. I know you’re f**kin’ crazy. I know a bullet to the belly will not stop you from crawlin’ out the window. So my ass isn’t on that couch downstairs until you fall asleep.”

He intended to sleep on the couch.

This made me feel relief.

It also made me feel a niggle of gloom.

I’d been alone a long time. Living alone. Sleeping alone. Keeping myself to myself.

I knew Ben was dangerous and I knew prolonged exposure to him would increase that danger significantly.

That didn’t change the fact that he was not hard to look at, it was not a hardship to watch him move, I got a kick out of squabbling with him, and it far from sucked waking up with my cheek to his chest, his arm wrapped around me, the feel and smell of him everywhere.

Obviously, I not only didn’t share this, I didn’t let these thoughts show.

Instead, I mumbled, “Whatever. Until you release me from captivity, I’ll go through the motions to avoid the hassle.”

“You’ve never gone through the motions to avoid hassle,” he returned. “You’ve gone through the motions to deflect attention so you can carry out whatever scheme you’re hatchin’.”