Burning Down the Spouse

by Dakota Cassidy

  And out of Mitch’s hands without so much as a “thank you,” Frankie thought with derision. She blocked out most of the conversation between Gil and Nikos, opting to fight tears with her head down.

  “So show us what you’ve got for us today, Nikos,” Lil directed in super-shiny tones.

  Frankie’s head popped up to catch sight of Nikos, staring with this awkward hesitance at the demo table where some bowls, a mixer, and some measuring cups sat. He pulled out a piece of paper from the pocket of his suit and had to catch it to keep it from falling to the ground. With a clearly uncomfortable glance, he squinted out into the audience. “Uh. I have a recipe.”

  Uh, you sure do.

  Lil’s lilting giggle swirled in Frankie’s ear. “And what’s the recipe for?”

  “Um, it’s called a Recipe for Forgiveness.”

  Gail and Mona shuffled in their chairs while Maxine encouraged Nikos to smile by pulling at the corners of her mouth in an overblown motion like some teen beauty queen’s stage mother.

  Jasmine rolled her fingers at him in a gesture to continue.

  Clearly, with the lights from the set, he couldn’t see his audience. Nikos paused, shoving a hand in the pocket of his trousers.

  Gil stepped in to help. “What’s the Recipe for Forgiveness’s ingredients, Nikos?” he prompted with a theatrical flare.

  Nikos instantly looked down at the paper he held. “Oh, right. Um—one cup of shamefaced . . . Shamefaced? What kind of word is that?”

  Gil redirected Nikos to the paper with a flick of his finger and whispered something Frankie couldn’t make out.

  Nikos nodded to Gil. “You’re right. Okay. One cup of shamefaced, uh . . . two cups of behaving like a total dumb ass, and a pound of . . .” Nikos squinted, then let out an impatient sigh. “Jesus, Simon—is this your chicken scrawl? How the hell am I supposed to beg the woman I love for forgiveness if I can’t read the damn ingredients to beg with?” Nikos balled up the sheet of paper and threw it to the table in front of him.

  Frankie couldn’t move.

  Nikos’s eyes looked for the camera Gil pointed to, so deep and dark, she couldn’t tear herself away. “Forget all of that. Wait, don’t forget all of that. I am all of those things—ingredients, whatever. I, Nikos Antonakas, did a stupid, unfair, crappy thing to Frankie Bennett, and I was wrong. Really, really wrong. This is me, so pathetically sorry, I’ve resorted to apologizing on cable TV. Do you have any idea how much airtime costs even on local cable? But I want it on record, I’m owning my mistake, and it was the biggest one I’ve made in my life up to this point. Almost as big as letting Simon write up that stupid Recipe for Forgiveness.” Nikos’s eyes strayed away from the camera to narrow in someone’s direction off set.

  She’d bet it was Simon. Frankie stuffed a fist in her mouth to keep from laughing out loud or bursting into tears. She couldn’t decide which emotion would win.

  Nikos held up a hand, his beautiful face hard with determination. “So here’s where I stand. I don’t know if you’re watching, but I hope Gail and gang made you tune in. Or at the very least, someone TiVo’d this so you can watch it later.”

  He had no idea she was in the audience . . . Frankie held her breath while Nikos clenched his jaw and continued like his teeth were being pulled from his head with no anesthesia.

  “I love you, Frankie Bennett. I don’t want to save you. I don’t want to own you. I don’t want to keep you from doing anything you want to do, whenever you want to do it. Most importantly, I trust you. I was an irrational, jealous idiot, and if you’ll forgive me, I promise to spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Oh, and to sweeten the deal, I’m including my crazy, loud, unruly family, and all the Tiger Balm and meatloaf you want—available in a lifetime supply.”

  Frankie’s heart screamed in her chest, her pulse skipped beats in erratic thumps.

  And then it happened. A rush of complete certainty flooded her veins. The kind where you know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, there’s just no fighting what’s meant to be. What you’ve waited your entire life to get a taste of, and now you’ve been offered the whole damn pie.

  Frankie rose as an expectant pause filled the air with such pungency; she could taste it on the tip of her tongue.

  Her purse fell on top of Jasmine, her jacket to the floor.

  She pushed her way past the folding metal chairs to stand a few feet away from Nikos. Her voice was shaking with emotion, but her words were sure. “So, Antonakas, how much did this little stunt cost?”

  Nikos’s head popped up. The dull lifeless hint to his eyes was gone and replaced with a glimmer of amusement. “Oh, it was big, Bennett.” He spread his broad hands wide. “Big money.”

  She clasped her hands together behind her back. “Was it at least as much as you’d have had to dish out if you hadn’t fired me?”

  Nikos snorted and grinned, taking two steps closer to her. “I didn’t fire you per se . . .”

  “Technicalities. So? Answer the question.”

  “At least a hundred times that.”

  Frankie upped the ante and took three steps toward him, inhaling a whiff of his cologne, one that left her smiling with the comfort it brought. “I guess that means a raise is out in my near future.”

  “Oh, yeah. Probably the next ten futures.” His smile was cocky when he stretched his leg out and took another exaggerated step, bringing him almost directly in front of her.

  Frankie rolled her tongue in her cheek and sidled closer until she could see every delicious groove on either side of his mouth. “Damn. That’s too bad, Antonakas. I really, really need a couch and some curtains. Wow, do I need curtains.”

  His hand reached for hers, clasping her fingers in a loose embrace that made her heart skip with joy. “You could always use my couch.”

  She let her fingers curl into his. And it was as right as she’d suspected. Right and so sweetly good. “You’re too generous. So when can I expect you to drop it off?”

  He took a long breath. “I was kinda hoping we could share mine.”

  Frankie wiggled her eyebrows. “You mean like partial custody?”

  Nikos wiggled his back. “I mean like partial visitation.”

  Frankie pretended to give that proposition serious thought. “It is a nice couch.”

  He finally closed the space between them until their noses almost touched. “It just hasn’t been the same without you.”

  Frankie’s hand reached up to cup his cheek, running her thumb with a contented sigh over the planes of his jaw. “Do you think your couch and my folding chair will hit it off?”

  Nikos wrapped an arm around her waist, dragging her to him so that her back arched and her upper body was squarely pressed to his chest. “I think it could happen. I mean, as long as my couch doesn’t do anything stupid.”

  She chuckled, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Don’t you worry. My folding chair has legendary skills with a wire whisk.”

  Nikos’s laughter showered over her like a balm, but his face grew serious once more. “I can’t offer you what Mitch did, Frankie. I’m not poor, but I’m no multimillionaire either. I run a diner in New Jersey, and soon, it’ll be mine entirely. But I love my diner and I love working with my family. I don’t want to be famous, and I don’t ever want to go back to my old job. My hours suck, my employees are unruly, loud, opinionated, and unmanageable, but we make the best meatloaf anywhere in the world, and not to be taken for granted, you’ll never want for a single thing if you take a chance on me. I love deaf dogs, cats, too, deaf or otherwise, and women who can’t find a decent hobby, hate to cook, and listen to the Go-Go’s. Also, if pressed, I’ll watch reruns of Flavor Flav’s Flavor of Love. I know you thought I was asleep, but I caught you riveted to it at two in the morning. Though, I can’t promise I won’t nap during it. And finally . . . I love you, Frankie Bennett.”

  Frankie closed the distance between their lips, but not before adding, “Phew, color me relieved, because I love you, too. I
t would have sucked if I was all alone in this, huh?”

  Cheers from the once silent and darkened backstage rose up to meet her ears as Nikos planted his lips on hers and soundly kissed her.

  From the left side of the set, Voula, Barnabas, Cosmos, and Simon burst onto the stage, clapping Nikos on the back and hugging Frankie.

  Gail and Mona sniffed into their tissues while Maxine and Jasmine checked their compacts to be sure their mascara hadn’t run.

  “Oh, my Frankie!” Voula tweaked her cheeks. “I have missed you. I told my big, stupid son you would never steal from me.” She tucked Frankie’s hand under her arm. “You come now and we go back to the diner for some meatloaf to celebrate.”

  Nikos put a hand on his mother’s shoulder. “I was kinda hoping for some alone time with my main squeeze, Mama.”

  “Bah!” Barnabas barked. “You have plenty of alone time when Frankie comes back to chop. Now we celebrate!”

  Nikos wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. “You game?”

  She giggled, snuggling closer to his chest. “Are you kidding? I hate to tell you this, but I don’t know what I was jonesin’ more from lack of—you or Mama V’s meatloaf.”

  He chuckled, tucking her head under his chin. “Then meatloaf it is, but later, you’d better make sure you’ve taken out every lightbulb from every room in your apartment. We have some making up to do.”

  Her stomach bubbled in decadent anticipation. “Well, then, opa.”

  “Oh, definitely there’s some serious opas in your future,” he whispered in her ear, sending delicious tingles along her spine.

  Hand in hand they made their way out of the studio in one large, loud group. Frankie caught sight of Simon, stopping to call him out. “You.” She pointed a finger at him with a grin. “You had something to do with this, didn’t you?”

  “He arranged the whole thing, honey,” Nikos said, kissing the top of her head.

  “You arranged all of that? The apology, the show, the whole thing?” Jasmine asked, pushing past Nikos and Frankie.

  “Yep. Simon’s not just a national celebrity. He’s a local one. Gil and Lil almost fell over themselves when he called and asked them to set this up for me,” Nikos added. “It’s good to have friends with connections for bennies.”

  “You?” Jasmine said again, her beautiful face surprised.

  Simon shrugged. “I owed Frankie. I was wrong. I had to do my part to help Nikos make up for listening to a dumb ass like me. I steered him wrong. It’s only money. Of which I have plenty. Not a big deal.”

  Frankie watched while the frigid outer layer of Jasmine’s heart began to thaw. It was in the hint of her gaze. Her eyes strayed to Frankie’s, hesitant and full of her fear for the next step. A step she knew Jasmine was petrified was a trap.

  Frankie came to stand beside Jasmine. “Forgiveness feeds the soul, my friend. I just fed mine.”

  Jasmine eyed Simon in obvious hesitation. “He did such a bad, bad thing, Francis,” she whispered with shaky words. “Yet, even after doing such a bad, bad thing, I still want him so, so much.”

  “I get it. Believe me, I get it,” Frankie whispered back.

  With a roll of her eyes and a sigh, Jasmine put a tentative hand on Simon’s arm. “Okay, so here’s where you’re at. You are on probation, quarterback. One wrong play and it’s over. During your sentence, you will come clean about anything and everything that could affect me even a little, especially the paparazzi. You will never, so long as I allow you to play in my sandbox, ever, lie to me or accuse someone of something without a thorough investigation headed by me. And if you ever make me cry as hard as I did when I found out about you and Ashton, you’re paying for my eyelid lift. Understood?”

  “You, the great and powerful Jasmine, cried over me, the dumb jock? Like real, live tears?” Simon taunted.

  Frankie intervened. “Were I you, I’d reconsider going there.” She gave him a kiss on his cheek with a giggle. “Now go make up, and thank you.”

  Simon held out his arm to Jasmine, and she hooked hers through his. “So we shouldn’t talk about the tears? Did you eat Häagen Dazs, too? I thought your ass sounded fuller, but I have to feel to be sure.”

  Instead of decking him, Jasmine’s head fell back and she laughed as she guided him out of the studio. “I’ll eat what I want, when I want, big ass be damned—whether you can see it or not. Oh, and by the way—way to cream a guy. You took out Mitch like he was a pin and you were the bowling ball. Sooooo hot,” she squealed, their voices drifting out of the studio, leaving Nikos and Frankie both laughing.

  “Meatloaf calls!” Cosmos yelled from the exit of the studio.

  Frankie smiled up at Nikos, her eyes a window to this crazy, exciting, all-consuming love for him. “Ready for some make-up meatloaf?”

  He pressed a kiss to her lips that left her sighing with anticipation. “I think that’s an order I can fill.”

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  EPILOGUE

  From the journal of Frankie Bennett-Antonakas: I think the last name Antonakas on the end of mine says it all, don’t you, dear journal? This concludes my postdivorce discovery entries. I’ve discovered—hoo boy, I’ve discovered. Probably more than the Discovery Channel. I’ve discovered happiness, true fulfillment, and most of all, I’ve discovered my life is now so full, I don’t have time for journal entries either. So it is with great fondness that I bid you a big ole later gator.

  Eight months later

  “Mrs. Antonakas?”

  Frankie groaned from beneath her new husband’s talented lips as he spread her sex and nipped the swollen flesh. “Why are we talking now, Mr. Antonakas?” she complained in a teasing tone, then shuddered a sigh when he stroked her with his tongue, drawing another orgasm from deep within her. She groaned her pleasured approval, clinging to his shoulders and dragging him to her lips.

  Nikos rolled her to her side, his chest pressed to her back, taking her mouth against his, and cupping her breast, stroking her nipple to a tight peak. “Are you sure we won’t hurt the baby?”

  Frankie clasped his wrist, her head falling back to the pillow when she lifted her hips to encourage Nikos to enter her. She smiled at how utterly freaked he was, before reaching down between them to run her hands along his rigid cock. “I’m definitely sure, Nikos. It’s really okay. You heard the doctor. I am, however, not so sure I won’t hurt you if we don’t get it on—soon. So do me,” she said on a chuckle.

  Nikos lifted her thigh, pulling it back over his hip, entering her with such care Frankie’s chest grew tight with love. Her arm wound up around his neck, her back arched at the never-ending pleasure he created when he was deep inside her.

  His breaths grew harsh, mingling with hers as he drove his cock into her with easy glides, running his hands over her now much fuller hips, caressing her skin until it was on fire.

  When he cupped her breasts, the force of white-hot heat erupted within her, making her drive downward against his lower torso. Nikos’s familiar shift in position, the tightening of his muscles as he pulled her closer to him, was a sign his release wasn’t far off.

  Frankie clutched wildly at his wrists, gritting her teeth when her climax took away all reason, leaving her mind numbed but her senses screaming.

  Nikos huffed from behind her, a long, harsh rasp of a breath, his chest expanding and deflating against her back. As the air returned to her lungs, she smiled, burrowing against her husband’s hard body with a wiggle of her hips.

  He nuzzled her ear. “Hmmmm. I like you today, Antonakas. A lot.”

  Frankie giggled with utter contentment. Life was so good—with Nikos—at the diner she now managed alongside him—with the frequent visits they made to Voula and Barnabas in Boca and the Tuesday night dates they shared with Jasmine and Simon, now engaged, for dinner at Little Anthony’s and even the occasional drink at Fluffy’s. Good, good, good. Better still, she’d been entrusted with the meatloaf recipe. It was now her job to pr
epare it. “You’d better. You knocked me up.” Boy, had he ever. In record time since she’d had a procedure to clear the block in her fallopian tubes.

  “Who knew Antonakas sperm was so potent, huh?” he asked, nipping at her shoulder.

  “Especially since it’s so old,” she teased. Their ages had concerned Frankie for about three minutes after they’d gotten the news of her pregnancy. She was almost thirty-nine. Nikos was almost forty-three, but then Jasmine reminded them, she, at nearly forty-seven, was like the new thirty nowadays, and suddenly, the prospect of watching their child graduate college when they’d be nearing or almost in their sixties didn’t seem like such a big deal.

  Nikos ran his hard hands along her ribs, ribs that would shortly disappear beneath weight gain. “Hey! Lay off the old there, woman. I still have all my teeth and my colonoscopy’s all clear. Besides, how many old men can do what I just did? I’m in tip-top shape.”

  Frankie stretched luxuriously against his solid warmth, arching into the trail of kisses he left along the column of her neck. “I say you prove your youth and do it again,” she teased.

  Nikos’s cock grew rigid against her once more, pressing with sinfully delicious pressure against her ass. “Are you sure you’re up to it again, honey? I mean, you’re no spring chicken either, and you are with child. My child,” he reminded her, his tone of possession sending that wild thrill of bliss through her.

  Frankie rolled to face him, sliding her body seductively against his with a hiss of pleasure when their bodies made contact. “I think I can manage one more round without breaking a hip. I took my osteoporosis prevention pills today.”