Best Laid Plans (15 page)

“Me?”

“All of you,” Tony grumbled. “If it’s not you, it’s Rocco, if it’s not Rocco then it’s Beppe, if it’s not Beppe, then it’s Nick having one for a mother. Can you all just tune your radars to Run From The Fucking Mental so I don’t have to do shit like this?” He gestured in the direction of Luca’s ravaged apartment. “Oh, and that wood’s out of stock, so you’ll have the whole floor replaced.”

“Fine. Can we go now?”

“I thought you said your bird was a copper? She’d have seen shit like this before, she’ll be fine. Part of the training at taxpayers’ expense and all that.”

Luca sent him a dirty look. “Have you paid a single tax in your life?”

“Oi, I’m a man of the people. I paid a tax. In 1998. I think.”

“Anthony, I am begging you, please take me to your house so I can see if my girlfriend is all right?”

Tony sighed. “Yes, let’s go. Before the heavens cave in and you lose what’s left of your mind.”

They climbed into Tony’s 4x4 and headed toward his house. “Oh, hold on a moment. They’ve gone to the hospital.”

Luca felt his stomach dissolve in fear. “What?”

“Lyds tends to be overly cautious about everything, so don’t worry. I’m sure she’s fine.”

Luca’s eye twitched. If Tony didn’t stop being so fucking unhelpful, he was going to punch him.

“If you punch me, we’ll fight, and if we fight, I’ll have to kill you because you’ll get blood on my Apache,” Tony said, without looking at him. “Apache’s what Lyd’s calls it. We’ve had good times in this thing. So yeah, no punching.”

Luca closed his eyes and thought of Francesca, hoping the image would deliver him to a place of patience and calm. It wasn’t working. Punching Tony seemed like the better idea. They pulled up to a building that didn’t look like any UK hospital he knew. “Where the hell is this?”

“Special private facility for family only,” Tony said, raising his eyebrows. Luca was ready to rush inside, but Tony caught him by the collar of his shirt. “Easy.”

“We’re out of the car—I’ll happily punch you now.”

Tony didn’t let go of his collar, only walked him briskly inside. The receptionist glanced up at them. “Francesca Abbey? She’s just with Ms Johnson now. Third room on the right after the corridor.”

Luca barely said a thank you before he was barely touching ground, racing to the room. He burst the door open, to see three women giving him looks that spoke volumes in a language known as “what the hell?”

Lydia was sitting beside Francesca, who was lying on a bed, and a sleek-looking woman he assumed to be Ms. Johnson was snapping on latex gloves. “How many people do I allow in a room at a time?” Ms. Johnson asked with a brow lifted.

Lydia got to her feet. “I’ll take the bullet this time. But I wanna know what’s going on with you, missy.”

Francesca smiled. “I will. I promise.”

Lydia gave Luca a kiss on the cheek as she passed him. “She’s genius. Fuck it up with her and I’ll cook you.”

A fate worse than death. “Got it.”

Ms. Johnson waved to Luca from the doorway. “Come on, come in!”

Luca took Lydia’s place beside Francesca and took her hand in his own. Ms. Johnson rolled Francesca’s silky top to beneath her breasts. “You’re going to have to find a decent OB/GYN. In the meantime only, mind you, the maternity unit isn’t ready yet.”

Francesca sent him a panicked look, but he simply lifted her hand to his lips. “It’s all right. I know.”

“How? I didn’t say anything!”

“That’s what gave it away,” he told her quietly. “But I’m here. I’m always going to be here.”

Her breath hitched and she blinked rapidly. “Good to know.”

He kissed her hand again. “Don’t cry, sweetheart.”

“I can’t. I’ve drunk about two pints of water and I really want to pee. If I start crying I will pee. Over everyone.”

“Please don’t,” Ms. Johnson said dryly as she drizzled gel onto Francesca’s stomach and then placed a transducer on her flesh. Thudding sounds drummed into the room. “Okay, there’s baby, and there’s baby number two. Good heart rates, nice size, giving that one to the genes,” she mocked, glancing at Luca, who was having a heart attack.
Did she say baby number two?

“Two?” Francesca echoed.

“Yes, look.” Ms. Johnson pointed to the screen. “Two heads, two little bodies, two heartbeats, babies plural. Any twins in the family?”

Luca held up a hand.

“That’s his fault then.”

Francesca raised a shaking hand as well. “My dad’s a twin.”

“So’s mine,” Luca murmured.

Ms. Johnson looked like she was struggling not to laugh. “Well there’s a conversation I’d love to be a fly on the wall for. So you are eleven weeks, due date should be 20 May next year, but twins tend to make early surprise appearances. I need you to have another scan for abnormalities, like I said, we’re not ready yet.”

Ms. Johnson gave a sigh, looking at Francesca seriously. “Francesca, please look after yourself. I know it’s difficult with the morning sickness, but you really need to. I’ll get you a list of foods that can help and vitamins you really should be taking. Folic acid and lots of iron tablets. I can sense the joy in you already. Mr. Caristo, you’ve got work to do. But then, with two babies coming, I’d get used to it, if I were you.”

Ms. Johnson placed the instrument down and cleaned the gel from Francesca’s stomach. “I know some pretty good OBs near you. Let me get their details for you so you can get another scan and abnormality tests. And the scan printout. Do you want the DVD as well? Course you do. Anything else I can do for you?”

Luca and Francesca seemed to be in a state of catatonia. They shook their heads eventually, and Ms Johnson left the room with a grin. Francesca leaned back on the bed. “Just, no words.”

It was an abstract before, a fantasy, but it was all real. He’d wanted a family like Tony’s for so long, and here it was. Six months away. His fingers tightened around Francesca’s. “Do you know how excited I am?”

She turned her head toward him. “At the prospect of never sleeping again?”

“About being a father. To our children.” He reached over and spread his free hand over her stomach. To his relief, she covered his hand, pressing his palm to her womb. “Francesca, two years ago, I was sitting in a police cell. Just after Dafne attacked me.”

She frowned at him. “Before you go any further, tell me that cunt is dead.”

The anger in her eyes shouldn’t have shocked him. He’d guessed she was less than impressed with his former girlfriend to nail Dafne to a wooden floor by the hand. His brain couldn’t quite comprehend that she’d done that without, it seemed, breaking a sweat. “Never to bother you again.”

Francesca exhaled. “Good. So, you, police cell. Two years ago.”

He smiled, almost believing he could feel their babies shifting under his palm to listen too. “I thought I was going to prison, for a long time, and when I thought I’d carry on worrying, I fell asleep. And I had a dream. About you.”

“Pardon?”

“I had a dream about you,” he repeated. It was absurd, but now seemed the perfect time to let her know. “You called me Lucky and said it was Ginger Ale Day. And I prayed that if I was allowed to have you in my life, I would never lift a knife in violence again.”

“And that’s how you know me?” she asked in astonishment.

“That’s how I know you.”

“You’re weird. You know that, right? You are absolutely off your fucking nut.”

“Yeah. Probably. But I still met you. And here we are.”

“You really dreamed about me?”

“You were a shining light in the darkest moment of my life. I think you always will be.”

Francesca put a hand over her eyes. “Oh God, you’re being amazing. And I swore when I saw you I was going to punch you for that stupid 2010 condom.”

Luca closed one eye and sat back a little, lifting the hand from her tummy so she could sit up and swing. “Go for it.”

“I figure I can save it for labour.”

“If I hadn’t gone back to Naples...”

She shook her head. “No, don’t. That’s not fair. You had to. I don’t think you’d be... Well, the man I hope you are, I know you are, if you hadn’t.”

“I’m glad you think so. I wouldn’t want you to think I’m your father.”

Her mouth parted in surprise. “Oh. How’d you even know about him?”

“You’ve never said a word about him,” Luca said simply. “Are you going to come home with me? Talk some more?”

She snorted. “You haven’t seen me for almost three months—are we really going to talk?”

Luca cleared his throat, feeling a blush staining his cheeks. “After then.” Maybe in four days’ time, when the ache in his groin had dissipated, soothed between Francesca’s thighs and soft lips.

Francesca burst out laughing and leaned over to wrap her arms around his neck. “Straightforward as ever. Hi, Lucky.”

With ease he scooped her from the bed and eased her over his lap. “Hi.”

He realised he’d done some terrible things in his life, but he prayed he’d paid enough dues to earn a life with Francesca and their two children. Damn.
Two
.

Frankie opened the door first, looking for signs of struggle or most likely bits of Dafne all over her home. There was nothing, only the scent of the Amalfi lemon candles she’d bought last week. Luca nudged her inside with a shopping bag.

“It looks like nothing happened,” he assured her, closing the door behind them. He was right. Nothing seemed at all out of place. Except the knife-sized hole in the floor.

“We’re getting that replaced tomorrow.” Well, there was that, and the fact that he was convinced that he’d dreamt about her while incarcerated in a police cell. Weird as it may be, she thought there was a whimsical romance about it. Unexpected, coming from her gentle giant. “Come and sit down, Francesca.”

Before she could ask where the hell, he’d picked her up and placed her on the counter once more. Her body twitched in anticipation. They hadn’t really touched each other in three months; this was all becoming rather anticlimactic. “What are you doing?”

Luca glanced up from the bag of potatoes he was ripping into. “Cooking. Aren’t you hungry?”

“Suppose,” she replied, clutching the edge of the counter and letting her shoes swing. She’d read articles where people had dreams piecing encounters with others into varying situations. No reason why he couldn’t… Hold on. Sunglasses. Luca. Previous job.
Supermarket man?

“Did you used to come to London? I mean to visit Tony?” He nodded. “Did you ever bring Dafne?”

He nearly choked. “No. God, no. I think Tony would have thrown her over the bridge.”

“So you were in this area, I don’t know, maybe a few years ago?”

Luca stopped peeling the potatoes. “I know an interrogation when I hear one. What’s ticking away in your mind, sweetheart?”

It couldn’t be crazier than him having random dreams. “I think I met you before you were dreaming about me.”

“How?”

“You were in the Sainsbury’s around the corner from here. And you helped me get a bottle of ginger ale from the top, top shelf. I don’t know why it was hidden at the top there, like a porn magazine. But you gave it to me.” Luca’s eyebrows rose instantly. “You didn’t give it to me like that, you dirty man. Although…let’s say you helped me get a good night’s sleep after that.”

He gave her a measured look. “Doesn’t that only happen if the person you’re dreaming about is important or has had an impressive effect in your life?”

Her body flushed with heat. “It was a minute and a half at best, Lucky.”

“Important enough for me to think of you.”

Incredible that she would have made that much of an impression on him, irritable, tired, moments from cutting Leon’s head open with a thrown can of beer and probably smelling of lighter fuel from the barbecue. “Are you sure about that?”

“I like my version better. I’ll tell it to the kids when they’re old enough.”

Frankie nearly fell off the counter. “About jail?”

He washed the peeled potatoes and threw them into a pan of water. “No, sweetheart. About dreaming of the most beautiful girl when my whole world was dark.”

Frankie blushed. “Okay, I like your version better too.” It was much better than,
Your father gave me girl wood in the middle of Sainsbury’s.

He blew her a kiss and worked quietly for several minutes, rubbing salt and olive oil into the steaks, refusing her offer of help with a single shake of his head. “Can I ask you something else?”

“Of course.”

“I know we all make silly mistakes in our past, but Dafne? Really?”

Luca’s lashes lowered, and he shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe it was the flattery.”

Frankie was going to have a serious accident if he didn’t stop shocking her. “Flattery? Have you looked in a mirror, mate?”

He gazed at her contemplatively. “Sometimes it’s nice to be around someone who doesn’t constantly remind you of what you’ve done wrong in your life. Rightly or wrongly, she told me I had nothing to be ashamed of.” He filled a pan with water. “That I shouldn’t let my family’s failures hold me back.”

Fucking Dafne.
“Is this before or after she knew what your real job was?”

“After.” He gave her a pestle and mortar. “Now you can help.”

With a sigh, she accepted the instruments, and then took the packet of rainbow peppercorns from him. Crushing the peppercorns was a good idea to flake off her frustration. “So she tells you that you’re going to be mafia member extraordinaire and you love her for it?”

Frankie felt his hand on her jaw and she looked up. “Whatever me and Dafne was, believe me, it wasn’t love. Not before and definitely not after she took a razor to my head. All right?”

“Okay.”

He frowned. “You don’t believe me.”

She gave a shrug, going back to the peppercorns in the mortar. “I know it’s odd to apply it to you after you kicked a man to death, but you do have a sense of honour. I’m not sure if you’d convince yourself that you felt that way about her. Just so you weren’t taking advantage of her. Not that she deserved it or anything, but I get that you’d do something like that. Because you’re that sort of man.”