“You underestimate my charm,” Aiden insisted.
Frankie laughed. “You underestimate my mother’s lack of sanity. She’s going to ask you about weddings and babies.”
“And what should I tell her?”
Frankie flopped back on the couch cushion. “Well, she already knows that we’re having sex, which she thinks makes me a diabolical genius for hooking you on sex and then tempting you to put a ring on it.”
Aiden laughed softly.
“You don’t have to go, Aide,” she reminded him. She was more nervous about him meeting her parents than any legitimate boyfriend she’d had since high school.
“I’d like to go.”
“I can’t imagine why. They’re messy and loud and nosy, and you’re guaranteed to leave with a headache and probably a buzz and indigestion. My mom will keep refilling your plate while my dad keeps the booze flowing.”
“Are you trying to talk me out of it? Because never-ending food and alcohol are doing the exact opposite.”
“It’s not going to be what you’re used to.”
“Franchesca, just because I haven’t experienced something yet doesn’t mean I’m not going to like it. But if you don’t want me to go, say the word. Anything you want.”
She paused, chewed on her lip. “Come. Meet my crazy family.”
“I’ll be there. Besides, someone has to save Gio from the widow.”
“You’re awfully loyal to my brother.”
“The man made me a sandwich that I’m still fantasizing about.”
“Just wait ‘til I make you a sandwich. You’ll forget all about Gio and his wilted lettuce and soggy bread.”
“A sandwich artist, too? Is there nothing you don’t do?” Aiden teased.
Was he taking a dig at her blue-collar roots? Sandwich maker and catering help?
“Well, if you wouldn’t be so busy making all that money, you could learn to make yourself an acceptable sandwich,” she said lightly.
“How was your week?” he asked, changing the subject suddenly.
“It was… good.”
“What did you do?” he asked.
“Why?” Frankie laughed.
“I’m interested in you,” he said dryly. “Tell me about your week. How did your exam go?”
So she told him, and he listened. She couldn’t get a read on him. It was as if he were treating this as a real relationship. Something she couldn’t afford to do. Get used to late night calls with the gravel-voiced Aiden Kilbourn? Then what exactly would she do when those calls stopped?
It played on an endless loop in the back of her mind. Even as she enjoyed the conversation, the banter, the interest.
Chapter Thirty-One
Frankie glanced out the front window of her parents’ house for the ninth time in two minutes.
“Someone’s waiting for her boy-friend,” her brother Marco sang in an annoying falsetto.
“Shut up, Marco,” his wife and Frankie’s new best friend, Rachel, snapped.
“Babe, don’t yell. The doc says it’s not good for the baby,” Marco said, rubbing his hand over her rounded stomach.
“Oh, hang on there, buddy. Why don’t you stop doing things that require getting yelled at for?” Rachel was her brother’s match in everything… including volume.
“Both of you stop yelling so I can hear Drew.” Frankie’s father was a short and stocky man whose favorite place to be was ass-first in his recliner with the volume cranked on the TV. He DVR-ed The Price is Right all week long and binge watched it every Sunday. “For shit’s sake, two dollars? Whatsa matter, lady, you never do your own shopping?” he grumbled in disgust.
“Ma! When are we eating?” Gio called from the back of the house where he was probably sneaking scraps in the kitchen.
“When Frankie’s boyfriend gets here! Get your hands off of that roast!” May Baranski had the gift of sight when it came to the goings on in her children’s bedrooms and her kitchen. The first time Frankie had snuck a boy into her room, May had suddenly needed to “borrow” a sweater from her teenage daughter and had scared the shit out of the guy in her closet.
“Is that him?” May threw herself at the couch in front of the window and peered outside.
Frankie’s family didn’t go to church, but her mother still believed in Sunday best and was wearing her very best elastic waist slacks and turtleneck purchased from JC Penney in 1989.
The car that pulled to a stop was worth more than the house they were in. It had to be him. Her phone dinged, and Frankie dove for it.
Aiden: I’m here. Is it safe to come in?
“Is it him?” May was clamoring over the couch to get a better view. The woman did aquacise classes three times a week at the YMCA and was in better physical shape than most of the rest of them combined.
Frankie: I’ll be right out to escort you in. Did you bring any security with you? My ma is humping the couch trying to get a better look at you. I’m not sure if I can hold her back.
Frankie dropped her phone on the coffee table and dashed out the front door and down the two steps from the cement stoop. Aiden got out of the car looking good enough to eat in charcoal gray slacks and a burgundy sweater. Her mother would think he dressed up to meet them and give him bonus points. Frankie didn’t want to admit it, but she’d changed twice, matched her bra to her underwear again, and applied work day makeup.
She met him on the skinny concrete walk that led up to the house and stopped short. Every single family member, minus her father, would be plastered to the front window. She wanted to kiss him, but she didn’t want to give them a show.
Sensing her hesitation, Aiden gave her a smile. “If you shake my hand it’s just going to make them talk more.”
“I’m going to go ahead and apologize now. Because this was a huge mistake, and I’m so sorry I got you into it.”
“Relax, Franchesca. We’re going to lunch, not war.”
She snorted. “Shows what you know. In this neighborhood, they’re usually the same thing.”
“I’m going to kiss you,” he warned her. “And then we’re going to go inside and have lunch. And then I’m going to take you home and fuck you.”
The thrill rushed over her as he reached for her.
“Fine, but no tongue. You know my pants fall off when you do that.”
He was grinning at her with something like joy. He laid a very chaste kiss on her mouth before pulling back.
“How was that?”
“My pants still want to fall off. Let’s get in your car and drive away and jump straight to the sex,” she suggested.
“After,” he promised. “We’ve got business to attend to first.” He held up the flowers and wine.
“Jesus, Aide. You didn’t bring a thousand-dollar bottle of wine, did you?” Frankie was appalled. The flowers were no grocery store impulse buy either. White lilies and glossy green holly leaves. Ugh. Her mother would love them.
“Relax. I went to a store and paid a respectable price.”
“It better be under a hundred dollars.”
“If I tell you it was, will you please let me in the house?”
She sighed and straightened her shoulders. “Just remember, I gave you the opportunity to run away.”
She led the way inside through the rusting storm door that hit Aiden in the ass when she stopped suddenly because every member of her family was crowding around the twelve slate tiles that acted as the home’s foyer. Geez, why hadn’t she noticed the dust bunnies on the floor trim? And when had the coat closet door started peeling?
“Oh, great. You’re all lurking like turkey vultures. Everybody, this is Aiden. Aiden, this is everybody.”
“Aiden, it’s so nice to meet you,” Frankie’s mom crooned as if she were meeting Frankie Fucking Valli.
Her father grunted and looked over his shoulder at Drew Carey’s face, his version of a “pleasure to meet you.”
“Hey, nice to meet you, man,” Marco said, offering a hand. “This is my g
irl, Rach.”
“Wife actually and future mother to his child,” Rachel said pointing at her belly.
Aiden shook all the appropriate hands and greeted them more warmly than Frankie thought they deserved.
“Hey, good to see you again, Aide,” Gio said, pulling Aiden in for one of those one-armed buddy hugs.
“Again?” True to form, May latched onto that statement with a talon. “You’ve already met.”
“Yeah,” Gio shrugged. “He was at Frankie’s apartment last week.”
“And you didn’t think to mention it?” May’s voice was accelerating into dog whistle range. She cuffed Gio upside the head.
“Ouch! Ma! I sent you the picture of them!”
“I forgot! I’m sorry!” She smacked him again.
Aiden looked on in what Frankie hoped was amusement. Her mother was a few cards shy of a full deck.
“Can we please, for the love of God, act like regular people for one afternoon?” Frankie screeched. She turned to Aiden. “I wish I could say they don’t usually act like this. But this is the family that got permanently banned from an Applebee’s on Atlantic Avenue.”
Aiden squeezed her shoulder and stepped in. “Mrs. Baranski, thank you for inviting me to join you today.” He wielded the flowers and wine like they were a shield that would keep the little Italian woman at bay.
“Oh, my! What a gentleman,” May sighed in approval. “So very nice. Why don’t you boys ever bring your mother flowers?” she asked, admiring the lilies and managing to lay a guilt trip at the same time.
Gio and Marco spouted excuses that earned them both a cuff to the back of the head.
“Mr. Baranski,” Aiden began, “Gio brought some sandwiches to Franchesca’s this week. He said they came from your deli. Best sandwich I’ve ever had.”
Hugo puffed out his chest in pride. “It’s all in the meat. You’ve got good taste in sandwiches. You’re okay by me.” He immediately returned his attention to the TV.
Frankie rolled her eyes. “Welcome to the sixth circle of hell,” she whispered.
Aiden winked. “Wait until you meet my family.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
“It’s so good that you met Frankie when you did,” May was saying as she helped herself to another glass of wine. “Her eggs are only a few years from drying up.”
“Ma!” Frankie looked more annoyed than aghast. “Would you shut up about my eggs? We literally just started dating. Aiden could be an axe-murdering clown.”
“He’s not an axe-murdering clown!”
“How do you know?”
“He brought flowers and wine. Clowns don’t have manners like that.” It appeared that no one could argue with May Baranski’s logic, Aiden decided.
“I appreciate your faith in my character, Mrs. Baranski.”
“Call me, Ma.”
“Ma!” Franchesca covered her face in her hands, and Aiden hid his laugh behind his beer. “Why don’t you write him into your will already?”
“As soon as there’s a ring on your finger, I will,” May challenged with a stubbornness that had clearly been passed down to her daughter.
“So, Aiden. What do you do?” Hugo’s attention span had expanded since The Price is Right had ended.
Frankie gripped his thigh under the table. She was sending him a silent message, but unfortunately for her, it was intercepted by his cock.
He cleared his throat and took a sip of beer. “I’m in business, too.”
When she snorted next to him, Aiden brought his hand to the base of Frankie’s neck and squeezed.
To him, a business was a business no matter how many employees or office buildings it laid claim to. Frankie’s father wanted to be his own boss and provide a service for the community. Aiden could appreciate and respect that.
“Dad, Aiden is COO of Kilbourn Holdings” Frankie explained. She didn’t sound like she was bragging. She sounded like she was apologizing.
Marco whistled. “Damn. You own entire city blocks downtown.”
May’s eyes widened and she reached for her wine glass. “Franchesca, may I see you in the kitchen?”
Aiden and Frankie shared a glance.
“All the food’s already on the table, Ma,” Frankie pointed out.
“Now.” May’s tone left no room for arguing.
Aiden felt the dull throb of the headache that Frankie had promised him begin in the base of his skull. Here it comes, he thought. There wasn’t a mother in the world whose eyes wouldn’t light up at the thought of her daughter landing a Kilbourn.
Frankie squeezed his thigh and followed her mother into the kitchen.
“What in the hell have you gotten yourself into?” May Baranski yelled from the confines of the kitchen.
“Uh, Ma likes to think the kitchen is soundproof,” Gio said.
“You’re probably going to want another beer,” Marco predicted.
“You might as well get us a round,” Hugo sighed. “Sorry, Aiden.”
“Should I go in there?” Rachel wondered.
Marco’s arm landed on her shoulders. “It would be a danger to the baby, believe me.”
“Gotten myself into? What the hell, Ma?” Frankie yelled back.
“He’s a millionaire,” May said. “You can’t handle a husband like that.”
“I hate to break it to you, Ma, but you probably have to change that ‘m’ to a ‘b,’ and I’m not looking for a husband. He’s a nice guy. We’re having a good time.”
No one in his entire life had described him as a “nice guy.”
“You’re thirty-four years old, Franchesca. Just how long are you going to wait to settle down?”
“Until I find the right guy, Ma! Not all of us get lucky and find our soulmate in junior high.” Apparently, Frankie thought the kitchen was soundproofed too.
“He’s from another world! You can’t expect to be an equal partner in that relationship!” May shouted.
“Ma! Do you think there’s any man on the planet I’d let treat me like less than?” Frankie demanded.
“I don’t like this, Franchesca. Not one bit. It’s one thing to be friends with Pru, but dating a man who owns half of Manhattan?”
“Now you’re exaggerating.”
“Exaggerating? Me? I never exaggerate!”
“She always exaggerates,” Rachel said, smiling sympathetically at him.
“Hey, Aide,” Gio said suddenly. “How you feel about the Knicks?”
“The Knicks? I think they have a shot at the semis if not the finals this year.” Aiden was grateful for the rope.
“Me and Marco have an extra ticket for the game Tuesday. You wanna go?”
Aiden tried to remember the last time someone invited him somewhere that wasn’t related to business. He couldn’t come up with anything.
The shouting from the kitchen reached a crescendo. “He’s a nice guy that I’m not marrying, Ma. Chill the hell out.”
“Don’t you swear at me, Franchesca Marie!”
“You’re the one acting like a crazy person in front of a really nice guy that I like a lot.”
“I’m not acting crazy! I’m making sure my daughter isn’t getting in over her head with a crowd that runs too fast! What if he wants you to go to Monaco or St. Barths? What if he gets you hooked on drugs? All the celebrities need rehab, you know.”
“Jesus, I’m not thirteen, Ma! And Aiden isn’t hooking me on drugs.”
“I don’t want you losing your focus on your degree for a handsome face with deep pockets.”
“Mother! All you’ve talked about since I was twenty-two was me getting married.”
“I meant to a nice guy from Brooklyn who could offer you a family and a nice home within a three-block radius of our house. Not some kajillionaire who would treat you like some trophy.”
“Oh, I’m not a trophy?” Frankie challenged at full volume.
“I thought you said you weren’t marrying him?” May demanded.
“You know how I op
erate! You say no, and that’s what I want to do!”
“Tuesday would be great,” Aiden said.
“Awesome,” Marco shrugged.
“Meet at the Garden?” Gio suggested.
“Works for me,” Marco nodded.
“Me, too.”
“Who’s gonna sneak in there and get another round of beers?” Hugo wondered.
“Oh, my God. I’ll do it,” Rachel said, pushing back from the table.
“Be careful in there, babe,” Marco warned her, no longer as concerned with the welfare of their unborn baby since beer was on the line.
Rachel headed down the hallway supporting her belly.
“Everyone can hear every word you both are saying,” she announced.
“No, they can’t,” both Baranski women said.
“Yes, we can,” the Baranski men called back from the dining room.
“See what you did, Ma?”
“Me? You’re the one who brings a trillionaire to lunch!”
“We can still hear you,” Gio yelled.
“No, you can’t,” May insisted.
But the yelling ceased, and after a few stage whispers from down the hall, Frankie, Rachel, and May reappeared. Frankie and May had topped off their wineglasses.
Rachel was juggling four beers that she doled out at the table.
Aiden guzzled the last of his beer and reached for the fresh one. “This roast is delicious,” he announced.
Marco snorted and choked.
“We’re so happy to have you here to enjoy it,” May said, smiling sweetly.
Frankie flipped her brother the bird.
Marco flipped it back but not before his mother caught him. May got out of her chair and walked casually behind her son, and just when his shoulders seemed to relax, she cuffed him on the back of the head.
“Manners!”
“Frankie started it,” Marco argued.
Frankie flipped him another bird.
“See, Ma? Look!”
Frankie picked up her fork and ate innocently. “Marco, you’re hallucinating.”
May slapped Gio on the back of the head on her way back to her chair.
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