The Best Has yet to Come

Chapter 1

Two years had passed since the end of Gino DiFausti’s reign of terror over Daggerpoint’s criminal underworld, and in that time, the city had flourished. Crime was at an all-time low, small businesses were thriving, and for the first time in decades, the air didn’t reek of terror. None other to thank was Mayor Jonathan Calloway, whose social welfare programs such as homelessness support and drug rehabilitation encouraged would-be crooks to choose a more peaceful path, but he never missed an opportunity to remind his wife, Vittoria, that she deserved just as much credit, for being the one to plug her scumbag father in the chest.

Maybe it should have haunted her, but it didn’t, not really. Her father had used her all her life, first as a mule, then as a maid and accountant for the mafia, and finally, he’d attempted to turn her into a murderer, sending her in solo to orchestrate Calloway’s assassination when the intrepid new politician first came to power and promised to crack down on criminal activity. At first, she had begrudgingly accepted her duty, even used it to bargain with Gino for her freedom from future mob responsibilities if she managed to pull it off…but that was before she really got to know Jonny.

That was before she fell in love with him.

So, yeah, she slept pretty easy these days, and not just because the rest of the city did, too.

It was the morning sun, rather than any alarm, that roused her, peeking through the sheer curtains of the master suite, but even as she woke, she couldn’t help but take her sweet time luxuriating in the warmth of the soft mattress cradling her from below, the fluffy pillow under her head, and Jonathan’s arms wrapped around her as she lay nestled between his thighs, pulled against his warm, plump belly. Pressing her cheek between the twin swells of his plush chest, she inhaled the familiar scent of his cologne, woodsy and masculine and intoxicating.

But despite his size and strength, keeping her almost as pinned in place as she was turned on, she knew she had to get up. They had a busy morning and afternoon ahead of them, and she’d hate for him to have to sit in traffic, hungry and whining about it. Of course, there were worse things than that: she still remembered how worrying thin he’d been when she first met him, not that she’d been worried about him, not at first: he’d been her target, after all. And yet…wouldn’t anyone pity him?

Back then, he made a habit of denying his appetite, brooding about it in silence, and she’d rather him whine than brood, but why let him do either?

With a reluctant sigh, she carefully wriggled free from his embrace, propping herself up on one elbow. She let herself steal one more moment to admire him as he slept: his expression was slack and relaxed like it never was when she saw him at work at his desk, but as she combed her fingers through his hair, a smile touched the corners of his lips. (His blond hair was beginning to gray ever-so-slightly at the temples, and she found him no less handsome for it–as a matter of fact, she thought it made him look distinguished, but there was no doubt the stress was getting to him, and as the last year of his mayoral turn approached, she had begun to think of how best to suggest he not run for a second one. Daggerpoint knew what it wanted now, and it would do him some good to take a break. It would do her some good, too, if he was at home to help her take care of the–well, she’d bring it up after the party.)

Finally, she padded out of the bedroom and down the grand staircase, her bare feet silent against the blindingly-shined floors. In the bright, modern kitchen, she set to work, assembling a plate of fresh fruit, a trio of sugared mini donuts, and a small dish of the honeyed ricotta he liked. By the time she returned to his side, he’d begun to stir, and when she invited himself back into bed, his pre-breakfast snack in hand, he wrapped his arms around her waist and yanked her in close, pulling a squeak of delight from her throat. “What have you got there, pretty girl?” he asked playfully.

“Food,” she replied, affecting the most innocent of grins.

“Is that so? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to fatten me up, Vittoria Calloway.”

“What?” For a moment, she feigned ignorance, before bringing a hand to her chest with a gasp of mock shock. “How dare you, Jonny! I’ll have you know that that’s my least favorite thing to do!” With that, she smeared a mini donut with whipped cheese, topped it off with a juicy strawberry half, and thumbed it past his eager lips, his soft moan of pleasure warming her from the inside all the way out.

***

Half past twelve deposited them at an elegant restaurant in the heart of the city, its wide brick facade, shining double doors, and gilded signage befitting the occasion. Jonathan wore one of his newer suits, simple but custom-tailored to flatter his fuller-than-ever figure, and Vittoria had on a lovely but understated dark blue dress, her burgundy hair tucked up into an elegant but not-distractingly-elaborate updo. Neither of them wanted the prying paparazzi to ruin this outing on them–not on Mrs. Gibbs’ birthday, of all days.

Inside, the hostess led them into a private dining room in the back, its dark wood and thick velvet curtains creating an opulent yet intimate atmosphere. There, the birthday girl was waiting for them, along with her extended family and all of their friends. As Jonathan pulled her in for a hug, she squealed, and when they broke apart, her kind, lined face turned to Vittoria, a mask of pleased surprise, but surprise, nevertheless: “Goodness, Tori, what have you been feeding him? Solid steel?”

Vittoria chuckled, tucking herself under his arm. “He prefers to pump iron these days instead of killing himself on that stupid treadmill. Ask me, it’s been a change for the better: he’s so much stronger now in the bed–”

“Oh. spare my fragile heart! I’m an OLD woman!” teased Mrs. Gibbs, clapping her weathered hands playfully over her ears.

Mrs. Gibbs used to be Jonathan’s personal chef, but she’d finally agreed to retire and spend more time with her family after he married Vittoria–and she took over the duty of looking after him. The dear old bird had no sons of her own, only daughters, and she’d always insisted on keeping him in comfort, even if he hadn’t always been receptive to her efforts. He felt bad, in retrospect, making her worry with the self-depriving habits of his former life that used to make her worry so. But all was right with the world now, right? Or at least, with the city.

“Now, come on, you two! Help yourself to the mimosa bar!”

“Actually, I’m going to go to the bar and have a look at the liquors,” said Vittoria, breaking away. “Right back!”

Brunch was a buffet-style extravaganza, with multiple courses all laid out on a long table over burners. Everything was delicious, and it took all of Jonathan’s willpower not to completely glut himself on the delicious spread. He still had stuff to do today, and besides, he never had to worry about Vittoria letting him go hungry. By the end of the night, he knew she’d have him back in bed, pleasantly stuffed and satisfied, yet eager to do it all again in the morning.

When Vittoria returned, she offered him, at his curious insistence, a sip of her drink, something in a highball glass, bright pink and so fruity that he couldn’t even taste the vodka, before she departed to mingle with Mrs. Gibbs’ daughters, Holly and Molly, along with their hefty husbands. Clearly, the sisters had inherited their mother’s culinary talent, along with her penchant for feeding the ones she cared about.

For a few hours, the party was left undisturbed, until finally, the buffet was demolished. While the guests settled into seats at last, Jonathan holding Vittoria on his lap with both arms wrapped around her waist, the staff came in to clean up…and then it was time for singing and, of course, the cake.

Vittoria had baked and decorated it herself the night before: delicate layers of chocolate sponge adorned with sugared violets and creamy swirls of buttercream. As everyone sang, Mrs. Gibbs' eyes misted over, and she reached for Vittoria’s hand, squeezing it with the same motherly pride in her eyes as when she looked at Molly and Holly.

"You really are my star student, aren’t you?" she murmured, beaming.

Vittoria took a bite of the slice that had landed in front of her, grinning mischievously. “Not bad, if I do say so myself. Jonny, honey, what do you think?” She carved a hearty bite onto her fork and offered it to him. Eagerly, he accepted, nodding with a deep hum of appreciation.

“Perfect,” he said, once he’d swallowed. “But I expected nothing less.”

They left the restaurant discreetly, through the back. Well, as discreetly as they could in a limo. “Up for a movie when we get home?” asked Vittoria, palming his stomach through the layers of his suit. “Or would you rather nap off that nice meal for a few hours?”

“Actually, there’s one more thing I have to do today,” he admitted.

“Oh? And what’s that?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, really. It won’t take much time at all. I was just going to stop by to see my parents…”

***

Vittoria’s stomach sank. She knew the day would come, and yet, she’d been trying to put it from her mind. “Jonny, you really oughta warn a girl! What am I even supposed to say about–I mean, have they seen you since–since you’ve gained all this we–?!”

“Relax.” In the backseat, he gave her shoulder a squeeze. “No, they don’t know how fat I’ve gotten. No, they won’t say anything about it, I guarantee it. You don’t even have to talk if you don’t want to.”

“But how–?”

“Just relax, Tori, would you? Everything is going to be alright.”

Relax? How could she relax? Every woman in the Western world was surely apprehensive of messing it up with her beloved’s parents, but Vittoria had it tenfold as bad. For one thing, she’d once been assigned to LITERALLY kill Jonathan, and even if she’d abandoned her mission, she hadn’t abandoned her ongoing effort to keep him as plump as he was.

They’d opened up to each other–not all at once, but eventually, everything had come to light. She’d enlightened him about her original evil scheme, and he’d told her about his upbringing: sports, summer camp, survival training. His parents had had a vision for his future: fit, self-sufficient, a fighter, controlling his desires, suppressing his appetites, and Vittoria? She’d ripped him away from all of that, at first for her family’s benefit, but nowadays, for both of their pleasure.

What would his parents think of that? Surely nothing good.

And now that they were going to be–

Well, unless–

CRAP!

She’d bring it up once they were home.

The limo slowed to a stop. Vittoria’s brow furrowed when she realized they weren’t anywhere near the mansion she had expected Calloway the Senior to own. Instead, they were in front of a small, charming flower shop, the sign above the door faded with time but still well-enough maintained. Jonathan opened the door before the chauffeur could, stepping out with a casualness that only deepened her confusion.

“Come on,” he said, offering her his hand.

She hesitated, glancing from him to the store. “We’re getting flowers?”

He shrugged. “It’s only proper.”

She didn’t ask further, simply following him inside, watching as he perused the selection with a quiet reverence. He chose deliberately: a bouquet of white lilies, another of deep red roses. The colors struck her as unusual, but she held her tongue as he paid, taking the wrapped bundles with a nod of thanks to the teenage cashier.

When they returned to the limo, she held the roses in her lap, studying them as though they might offer some sort of explanation. Her nerves only grew more frayed as the vehicle continued on, the city giving way to quiet, rolling hills.

Then, at last, they came upon the iron gates of the town cemetery, and at last, she understood. “They died?”

Jonathan exhaled before turning to her with a nod. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. It’s still very difficult for me to talk about…”

“M-hmm,” she replied, solemnly.

She allowed him to guide her out of the backseat and down the cobblestone path, handing him the roses so she might wipe her welling eyes with a tissue from her purse.

“Are you okay, Tori?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder. “Don’t be too sad. It happened a long time ago, right after I graduated college. Plane crash.”

She breathed in deeply and let out a shuddering exhale. “I’m not sad…just…guilty.”

“Guilty?”

She nodded stiffly. “Here I was, so scared I’d meet them and they’d…they’d hate what I’ve done to you. And now I feel relieved that I don’t have to explain it…and that makes me feel…I don’t know, evil?”

“Tori, don’t be ridiculous,” he insisted. “And you are. Being ridiculous, that is. I should have told you, I just…”

He laid the flowers at the gravestones of Eleanor and Thomas Calloway, and when he rose once more to his feet, she could see that his eyes had started to moisten, too.

“Jonny…”

“I’m over it. I still miss them a lot…and they were strict, but I think that all along, they were trying to make me into a person who could seize a life that made me happy. And I’ve done that now, with you.” A few stray curls had started to fall from her bun; he pushed them behind her ear and kissed her softly on the lips. “They’d have liked you.”

“Then I think I’d have liked them. At any rate, they did a great job with you,” she said. For a moment, she wondered what to do…but it didn’t take her long to decide. She had to tell him. Grasping one of his big, warm hands, she brought it to her stomach, laying it flat against the silk of her dress. “I only hope we’ll do as good.”

His eyes widened. “Tori…how long have you known?”

“A week…I was going to tell you earlier, but you were so busy with work, and…!”

Suddenly, he clutched her close. “Are you happy?” he murmured, low and quiet.

She nodded, wordlessly.

“Then so am I. I think we’re going to be great parents.”

“Oh, Jonny!” She wrapped her arms tight around him, sinking into his softness.

“And here I thought the day I married you would be the happiest of my life…clearly, the best has yet to come.”