21. — her choice. #2
“Oh, baby girl,” Nico chuckled huskily, turned on already.
He kissed her chin, sucking the same way he’d done earlier.
He watched her lashes flutter closed at the sensation.
Letting her go, he told her, “Just that would make me lose it, Frankie. It’s you.
I have no fucking control. I can barely stand it just thinking about it. ”
“Okay,” she sing-songed airily.
“Are we getting dressed?” Carina demanded from outside the room.
That woman was relentless.
···
Six weeks later...
Nico toyed with the new pinky ring that he still hadn’t gotten used to. The large blue sapphire sat nestled in a basic white gold setting. The ring wasn’t fancy, but it didn’t have to be to feel like the weight of the world on his hand, either.
“Hey, how late am I?” Carina asked.
“Not too bad. They’ve been running drills. Before that, the coaches had them doing lap runs with squats and lunges. I am not made for this exercise shit, so thanks for the good genetics,” he told the woman now sitting at his right.
Carina laughed. “Don’t mention it, please.”
“Sorry.”
“We just are who we are, family, Nico. The specifics don’t have to matter. Not really.”
“Yeah, I get that,” he agreed quietly.
He focused on Frankie in the far-right corner of the field.
She slowed down after letting the ball roll beyond the boundary line, stopping altogether for a breather.
While a good portion of her summer had been spent in NYU’s stadium getting acquainted with the team and working her body to the point of exhaustion every day, she still looked healthy and good.
She practiced her heart out and loved it.
But today...she took more breaks than usual.
“I guess Sal had a thing last-minute, so I hope she doesn’t mind me taking his place today,” Carina said at his side.
Nico sunk deeper into the sideline chairs, trying not to worry so much about Frankie as she jogged for a water. “Let me guess, the Anthony and New Jersey mess is starting to spill over to Giorgio?”
“Marco finally went crying back to Daddy, apparently,” she agreed.
“Of course, he did. Marco never takes care of his own problems if it takes real work or it can’t be fixed by punching someone into submission.”
Carina remained silent, taking in his commentary.
“I bet his business and profit with Anthony took a real hit after Big Mike chose to remove his business from their territory altogether.”
More than a couple clubs on Mike’s end got torched, too. Big Mike had to send a message for that.
“Sal did want me to ask you something,” Carina said quietly.
“Oh? He could call; ask himself.”
“Well, he keeps expecting to see you at the estate. And yet...”
“I’m not allowed there, but for the outside, remember?”
“You haven’t given him the chance to adjust the rules, Nico.”
“I’m also busy,” he muttered.
“Too busy to have dinner with your girlfriend’s father once in a while?”
“She’s not my girl—”
Carina’s head snapped his way, shutting him up instantly. “What would you call her then?”
Nico bent forward to use his knees as arm rests while he weaved his fingers together. He kept his gaze on Frankie as she went for a second water bottle, chugging it back in mere seconds.
“What would you call her?” Carina asked again.
Nico cleared his throat. “I’d like to call her my wife, but...I’d have to have one of those dinners you mentioned before I even broached that, wouldn’t I?”
Without another word, Carina sunk deeper into her seat.
“So, yeah,” he said lamely. “That’s what I want to call her. Girlfriend is...not even close to describing what she is to me. At least wife let’s everybody else know.”
“Is your father still hammering you about her?”
“Every single week, never fails.”
Nico hated those dinners, and somehow, managed to get through them each time. Marco made it a lot harder, but Carmen and Vanna usually sat at the table with them, too. He enjoyed the way Marco picked and then got pissy when Nico didn’t take the bait.
Even their father noticed it last time.
That was Marco’s problem. If his big brother wasn’t at his level, he might as well just stay somewhere beneath the rest of Nico’s more immediate concerns. Like Frankie.
“What the hell?” he asked himself at the sight on the other side of the field.
Carina followed his stare, trying to find what he thought so strange. “Anyway, he wanted you to tell Giorgio at your next dinner that you asked Frankie to his Christmas party as a date, to give him something to focus on coming up,” she murmured under her breath.
He heard that. Even took it in to remember.
But...
Frankie had his attention, now. Nico stood from the seat as his girl stopped her jog for the ball she’d left behind just to dart off the field. A hand clapped over her mouth, and she barely made it to the bucket where the players had been throwing dirty towels.
Where she vomited.
“Frankie, hey!” Nico shouted.
She didn’t respond. Others on the field noticed, though. As they went to help, he looked down to find Carina watching the scene curiously.
“That’s definitely not a resurgence of her anxiety,” she muttered.
“What?”
Carina barely glanced up at him before she too stood and watched as Frankie stood up straight and waved off the concern of the girls crowding her.
Someone offered her a water bottle while someone else took the bucket away.
She bounced back relatively fast, swishing water in her mouth and spitting it past the field line before heading onto the turf again.
“She’s not losing weight or anything,” Nico said, “and that’s the first time I’ve seen her get sick since...”
He trailed off, thinking about it.
“The time I told her dad about,” he finished.
Carina stilled, but for her fingers that suddenly drummed nervously against the white leather of her Birkin. “But you’ve been busy. You said so.”
“Yeah, and?”
“So, how busy?”
“I’m up before she is and back in the evening. Same as usual.”
She made a soft noise. Those fingers drummed again.
He stared harder at her. “Is there a reason why you’re grilling me right now?”
Her gaze darted around their feet, in searching of something. Carina wasted no time the moment she found the objects in question. Frankie’s practice duffle bag and her mother’s beloved Birkin. She only took that out in public when Nico could watch it.
“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded as she opened the duffle first.
Carina didn’t grace him with an explanation as her hands dug through the change of clothes, and an extra pair of practice clothes, which he’d thought were a little tight compared to her high school soccer uniform, but the damn things were practically all spandex with NYU’s branding.
Tossing the shoes out of the bag, Carina dug deeper.
It didn’t seem to matter, because ten seconds later she moved onto Frankie’s bag, not having found anything in the duffle.
Something that sounded a lot like a pill bottle rattled at the same time Carina froze, staring down at whatever she found in the bag.
He looked to the field. At Frankie, now coming their way.
“Oh, my God,” Carina breathed.
His head snapped her way again. “What?”