by K. Street
“Dante is my friend, and I care about him.”
“I know you do. I just want you to be careful—you know…look before you leap.”
“Dante wouldn’t hurt me.”
“I know that. You’re finally starting to pick up the pieces, and you’re strong, Tessa.” She reaches out to squeeze my hand. “But what about Dante?”
“What are you talking about?” I swear, she’s had too much sun.
“Bless your heart,” she says in that patronizing Southern way.
“Mama!” My mouth gapes open.
“Close your mouth, sweet pea, or you’re likely to catch a fly.”
I snatch a pillow from behind me and bop her with it, aware she’ll retaliate. And she does. Soon, my bed is in disarray, and pillows are flying.
“What in the world are you two doing?” Daddy is grinning so big, I think his face might split.
I point at my mother. “She started it.”
“Tessa Rae, you can go to hell for lying.”
“The same way you can for stealing,” my dad and I say in unison.
We all bust out laughing.
The woman has an entire arsenal of sayings, wisdom imparted to her by my grandma, and she whips them out every chance she gets.
I walk up to my dad and wrap my arms around his neck. “I love you, Daddy.”
“I love you, too, baby bear,” he says, squeezing me tight. “Hey, Mags, do you know what we need?” He looks over my head to my mother.
I feel her arms go around me, reaching for my father, so I’m in the middle between them. They rock me back and forth, hugging me.
“Tessa sandwich,” their voices singsong together.
This time, I’m laughing instead of crying. I’m way too old for the ridiculous antics, but I wouldn’t trade moments like this for anything.
“All right, you two, let’s go downstairs, and I’ll make ice cream sundaes,” Mama says.
She doesn’t have to tell us twice. As we make a beeline for the stairs, my father starts singing one of his nonsensical little ditties about French men and ice cream. I’m transported back in time to where my entire world consisted of my parents and these walls.
It’s late, and since Dante and I are leaving early tomorrow, I decide to sit on the front porch with a glass of sweet tea before calling it a night.
I hear the door creak and turn my head to see my father stepping outside with his own glass of tea in hand.
“I thought you went to bed.”
“Your mama did, but I wanted to come out and check on you.”
“I’m fine, Daddy,” I say to assure him.
“Your mother and I have been married a long time, and if there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s this: When a woman tells you she’s fine, you can guarantee she’s anything but. If you ask her what’s wrong and she says nothing…you can bet the farm it’s something.”
He sets his glass down and then angles his chair to face the porch swing, so he can look at me. Between the moon and the citronella candle, there’s enough light for us to make out each other’s faces.
“I will be fine. How about that?” I give him a small smile.
“I’m glad Dante is going back with you.”
“Me, too.”
“Baby bear, I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through.” He clears his throat, and I wait patiently. “I want you to promise your old man something.”
“All right.”
“Not everybody gets it right on the first try. If you get a second chance, take it.”
For some reason, I think he means Dante. Not knowing how to respond, I just say, “I’ll try.”
He stands up, rights his chair, and grabs his tea. “That’s my girl. Now, don’t forget to blow out the candle and lock the door before you go to bed.” My father drops a kiss to the top of my head. “Love you, Tessy.” My father’s use of nicknames never ceases to make me feel like a little girl.
“Love you, too, Daddy.”
He goes inside, and I take a few more minutes to just sit and listen to the crickets chirp.
twenty-nine
Dante
I watch from the car as Tessa says good-bye to her parents. Having already said my own a few minutes ago, I wanted to give them a few minutes alone. She’s tucked in the middle between them in some sort of group hug, and then they switch places as they each take turns being in the center. The scene makes me laugh and causes me to want things I shouldn’t.
When Tessa gets into the passenger seat, she gives me a sad smile. We wave to her parents as I back the car out of the driveway.
Miles pass, and she’s quiet for so long, I start to worry.
“What’re you thinking about?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“This and that.”
“Do you want to be a little more specific?” I chuckle.
She scrubs her hands over her face and then peers through her fingers at me. “Dante, about a hundred thoughts are spinning in my head right now.” She drops her hands into her lap.
“It’s a long drive, and we have time.”
“I’m thinking about home and how I don’t know where that is anymore.”
I remain quiet because I know she’s working something out in her head.
“When you’re a little kid, home is the house you live in, the street you grow up on.” She leans into the headrest and looks over at me. “When you fall in love, home ceases to be a place. It becomes a person. And, when that person goes away, you’re essentially left homeless.”
She’s slowly killing me with her words. If I thought for a second I could lay it all out there for her and she wouldn’t bolt, I’d do it. Since I can’t, I carefully choose my words and tone. “You’re not homeless,” I tell her. “You still have me.” I smirk and add, “Crash at my place.”
She shakes her head. “Dante—”
“You could stay in the guest room if you’d be more comfortable. Don’t get me wrong; I want you in my bed, but that’s up to you. I don’t want to push, Tess.” In my periphery, I watch her mull it over. “Whatever you decide to do is fine, and whenever you figure it out, I’ll be here.”
“Okay,” she agrees and then asks, “Can you stop at the next exit? I have to pee.”
“So, now is a bad time to make jokes referencing water, huh?” I tease, trying to lighten the mood.
“You’re such a smart-ass.” She laughs.
“I think I’ve heard that somewhere before.”
She rolls her eyes and then gives me a huge grin.
We make a pit stop at Chick-fil-A to use the restroom, and I order Tessa a sweet tea. She loves that shit, and it’s pretty damn hard to find at home. Back outside, Tessa bypasses the car.
“Where are you going?”
She points to the gas station. “We need junk food,” she says with a laugh. “Your road-trip skills are seriously lacking.”
“Junk food it is.” I follow behind her.
By the time we leave, she’s loaded down with strawberry Twizzlers, peanut butter cups, and some Pirate’s Booty shit. Between the music and stories of Tessa’s childhood in Charleston, the miles pass quicker than I thought they would.
thirty
Tessa
We got back late last night, both of us worn out from the long drive. After grabbing our stuff from the car, we barely managed to change our clothes before falling asleep at Dante’s place.
When I got up this morning, I told Dante I wanted to go home and he could use my car since Josh was getting his. When he dropped me off, he was less than thrilled when I refused to let him come into the building with me. I don’t expect him to understand, but this is something I need to do on my own.
Now that I’m here though, maybe I shouldn’t have been so brave.
“Mrs. Salinger”—Theo rushes to greet me as I step into the building—“welcome home.”
“Thank you, Theo. It’s good to be home.” That isn’t the truth. There are so many places I’d rather be than here
.
“If you need anything, please let me know.”
“Will do,” I call over my shoulder as I make my way to the bank of elevators.
The ride up is silent, except for the electrical hum of the lift and the hammering in my chest. When the shiny silver doors part, I exit into the hallway, trying to ignore the knots forming in my stomach. Apprehension weighs down my feet like cinder blocks. I approach the door with the trepidation of a death row inmate on the day of execution. I’m suspended in between this moment and whatever comes next, knowing full well I’ll have to face what’s on the other side of the door. I don’t want to go backward, to lose the ground I gained while in Charleston. I don’t want to be swept away in the memories or give the past power over me.
With sweaty hands and trembling fingers, I unlock the door and step inside. The click of the latch reverberates through the room, making it feel hollow. I spin around and press my forehead to the cool interior side of the door. Flattened palms rest next to my temples, and I will my racing heart to calm and my lungs to inflate. Mentally, I count in reverse from ten. Then, I turn and open my eyes.
Before I can formulate a thought, my phone rings, scaring me half to death. Reaching into my back pocket, I pull it out and look at the caller ID.
“You scared the ever-loving shit out of me,” I shriek.
“I didn’t mean to. I wanted to check on you.” Dante’s concerned voice fills my ear.
“Dante, you just dropped me off.”
“I’m aware, and I also get how hard this is for you.” He blows out a breath. “All you have to do is say the word, and I can have people there to pack his things, so you don’t have to.”
I wanted to handle all of this on my own. At least, I wanted to be able to, but doubt is creeping its way in. “Can we talk about it later?”
“Of course. Tessa, you know there is no right or wrong answer here, don’t you? You’ve got this, and if you don’t…I’ve got you.”
“I know.”
“I’ll be there soon. Is Chinese okay for dinner?”
“Sounds great. I’ll see you in a little while.” I hang up the phone and slip it back into my pocket.
Grieving comes in stages. I’m not certain how many there are. Some psychologists claim it’s five while others believe it’s seven or eight. All I know is, some days, it feels like I’ve run the gamut from devastation to batshit crazy. Currently, I have no idea what stage I’m on…somewhere between acceptance and wishing for retrograde amnesia.
I steel my nerves and tread inside the bedroom. It looks just as I left it with drawers half-open and clothing strewed everywhere. The contents of the shoebox as well as Trevor’s hoodies still litter the floor. I reach down and pick up the white envelope. It’s empty. Then, I look to my right and spot the paternity test results on the floor where Dante cast the papers aside. I think back on that night at the cemetery and the police station. The memory plays out like a scene from someone else’s life. It’s hard to reconcile that I lost control and destroyed Trevor’s grave.
Bending over, I pick up the papers, and this time, when I read them, it’s without the filmy layer of disbelief or blinding white-hot rage.
With a probability of 99.8 percent, Trevor Salinger is the father of Brandon Montgomery.
I thought it wouldn’t hurt as much after the shock faded. I didn’t think it would still feel about a million times worse than pouring alcohol into a gaping wound.
Regardless of the sting, I’m not the only one who has lost someone. I push myself to look beyond Trevor’s betrayal. Somewhere out there is a little boy who never asked to be born. Who, despite the sins of his father, is completely innocent. There are so many questions I’ll never have the answers to, and I’ll drive myself insane, trying to make sense of the mess that my life has become. At some point, I need to get on with it. Something positive should come from all the heartache.
The kid will need to go to college, and even after I pay back everything Trevor stole from the company, there will still be more than enough of his life insurance leftover to set up a trust for Brandon. Tomorrow, I’ll start the ball rolling.
Dante is going to have to hire someone to replace Trevor. I’ve no idea how he’s avoided it for this long, but it’s not like we’ve talked about it.
I set the documents on the nightstand and return to the closet to start cleaning up the mess.
By the time Dante shows up with dinner, I’ve emptied the closet of Trevor’s belongings. His clothes are piled high on the bed, and the shoebox containing the trinkets from his childhood is sitting on the nightstand.
My phone vibrates in my back pocket, and I pull it out.
Dante: At the door with dinner. I knocked, but you didn’t answer.
Me: Sorry. Be right there.
I walk out of the closet and through the condo to let Dante in.
“Hey, sorry about that.”
“No problem. I wasn’t sure what you were in the mood for, so I ordered a little of everything,” Dante says, opening containers of Chinese takeout.
I grab two bottles of water from my practically empty fridge and set one in front of him. “Thanks for grabbing dinner.”
“You’re welcome.” He passes me a plate of kung pao chicken, beef and broccoli, and fried rice.
We eat quietly for a few minutes, both of us lost in our own heads. When I look up, Dante is watching me.
“Penny for your thoughts,” I say and reach for a napkin.
“I’m pretty sure they’re worth more than that,” he jokes. “Just thinking about work.”
I’m calling bullshit. It’s hard enough for me to be back here. I can’t imagine what it feels like for him. Especially now that things between us have changed.
After I take a drink of water, I push myself back from the table and go stand behind him. Being in Chicago doesn’t void what we’ve shared or how close we’ve become. I want to show him I care.
Dante sets his now empty water bottle back on the table and tugs me into his lap. My lips find his in a slow, sensual kiss. His hands glide over my back, and then he buries his fingers in my hair and takes the kiss deeper. Things can’t go far, not here anyway, so I break the seal of our lips. Dante lays his head on my chest in the valley of my breasts. The warmth of his hot breath sends tingles across my skin.
“I bet you’re not thinking about work anymore,” I say playfully and wiggle off his lap.
Dante smacks my ass. “That’s for damn sure. Are you coming home with me?”
“Do you still want me to?”
“That depends, Tessa, on whether you want to be there.”
“Yes. I want to come home with you.”
A huge smile morphs over his dark features.
“Are you done eating?” I ask.
“Yeah. I’m going to go to the bathroom, and then I’ll help you clean up.”
“Okay,” I agree, but I’ll have it done before he gets back.
thirty-one
Dante
With a quick glance behind me to make sure Tessa didn’t follow, I step into her bedroom. Trevor’s clothes litter the bed, and the closet floor is spotless.
Fuck. I need those papers. I hope she didn’t throw them out, and I can’t exactly ask her what she did with them.
I run my fingers through my hair, my frustration growing. Finally, I spot the envelope on the nightstand and grab my cell from my pocket.
Reaching for the envelope, I snap a photo of the Cloverstem Labcor logo, and then I withdraw the pages, smooth them out, and repeat the process. Leaving everything as I found it, I go back to the kitchen, but Tessa is coming down the hall.
She raises a brow in question. “I thought you had to use the bathroom?”
“I used yours. Are you ready to go?” I ask, changing the subject.
If she finds out what I’m up to, this thing between us will be shot to hell before we even have a chance.
“Okay.” She half-laughs. “I just want to grab some stuff.”
“Yes,” she says and walks into the closet. She comes out with a bag and then goes into the bathroom to toss her stuff in it. She walks over to the dresser, snatches something from the drawer, and throws it in the bag, too. “Ready.”
When we arrive at my place, I unlock the door, and we walk inside. As soon as I release the hold on Tessa’s bag, I lift her into my arms. Spinning around, I press her against the wall and crash my lips to hers. My hands go around her ass.
“Wrap your legs around me,” I tell her.
She wiggles her pussy against my hard dick. “Dante,” she pants.
“I know, Tess. I’m going to take care of you.”
I carry her down the hall to my room, kissing her the entire way. Once we’re inside, I set her on her feet. Tessa’s forehead rests on my chest, and she snakes her arms around me.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
Her grip tightens, and now, I’m worried.
“Talk to me, Tessa.”
When she doesn’t budge, I lift her chin with my thumb and wait. “Tessa, if you’re not ready…I’ll wait as long as it takes.”
“It’s not that. I want to. God, do I want to. But I’m not on the pill, so please tell me there are condoms here somewhere.”
“There’s a full box in the nightstand.” I wink at her. “Any other questions?”
“None.”
I drop a chaste kiss to her mouth. “I’m going to start the shower. Your bag is in the other room if you want to go grab it.”
The bathroom is already starting to fill with steam when Tessa returns. I strip out of my clothes while she unloads her shampoo and shit.
“Your turn,” I say, watching her face heat as her eyes travel over my body. I grab her stuff and set it on the built-in ledge of the shower. Then, I turn back to her, ready for the show.
Slowly, she tugs her shirt over her head, exposing her white-lace-covered tits. My cock jerks to attention. Next, she slides off her yoga pants and—
Holy shit.