Dante's Shock Proposal

by Amalie Berlin

  It felt like counting on failure to think that way, but it helped her actually be able to even try to say yes. Trust came hard, but she wanted to trust him. After all those ideas that having a baby could alleviate her loneliness, having spent time with babies the past few weeks had changed her mind. She still wanted a baby, but she needed to have someone to talk to as well. Now. Not in eighteen years when they could hold a satisfying adult conversation.

  Hanging out with other men might not even alleviate it—she’d never felt that spark of life with anyone else. It was sink or swim time. Even if she’d be lying to herself if she tried to pretend she could tie her life to another’s and ever really let her guard down fully.

  A knock sounded at the door and Lise leapt back from him with the power of a guilty sneak, and landed almost outside his reach.

  “Dr. Valentino?”

  Office manager’s voice came through the door. Lise identified it and jabbed a finger toward his desk. They wouldn’t be making out if he were behind his desk.

  She moved to the door and smiled at the nice lady, Kathy, she found on the other side. Kathy reported last-minute messages of the day, a consultation request from Seaside for tomorrow, and that the office was otherwise locked up. The woman, whom Lise had liked very much since her transfer, gave her a suspicious eye but then politely wished them both a good weekend and left.

  “She knows,” Lise muttered as soon as the door closed. “Or the hospital gossip reached her.”

  “She’s been with me since I came to Buena Vista. She’s not going to say anything. Besides, we’re engaged. She’ll find out soon enough. Your engagement ring will give it away.”

  * * *

  In an attempt to leave her cottage in still livable condition, Lise only moved things she absolutely needed to live for a week into Dante’s house—scrubs, some casual clothing, and sleepwear.

  She could have claimed it was because she wanted to make sure they spent some nights there—and that was partly true—but there was another, less cooperative or optimistic reason.

  Now that she’d decided to give a relationship with Dante a try, she needed a safety net. She hadn’t had a serious relationship ever, not really. She’d dated, at least prior to moving to Miami, but those had been very superficial relationships. The only time she’d ever lived with someone, they’d shared genes.

  With the last of her clothes now stashed in the bureau in the spare room, she had nothing to keep busy. The transition was going to be weird, and she accepted that it would take some time to get used to, but she’d thought that Dante would’ve been happy to see her when she arrived. He’d taken her keys, moved her car into the garage and carried in a few odds and ends she couldn’t make in one trip, but past that he’d returned to the medical journal he’d been reading and let her get on with things.

  No hug. No kiss. He hadn’t even smiled at her, and he should be happy—he’d convinced her to do exactly what he wanted.

  With that kind of reception, she felt compelled to try and tidy the spare bedroom, just in case.

  The house had four bedrooms—the master bedroom where Dante slept and three other rooms, two of them still entirely empty and this one with a bedroom suite and a big exercise machine that cluttered up the floor space. The machine could’ve easily gone into one of the empty rooms, but it was here, beside the bed.

  Dante had ordered another bureau made to match the one in his room...their room?...so she’d only be coming in here for clothes until that one arrived. The idea seemed weirder to her than her clothes living in a room away from her. Having a bureau to match his felt like pressure.

  Lise gave herself a mental shake and went back to the living area. Off the main room, she saw Dante sitting at the kitchen table, and the smell of some kind of meaty goodness beckoned her into that room.

  Still reading the journal.

  She joined him at the table. This was happening, and if part of her decision to give it a try had hinged on the fact that she was lonelier now without him, Lise wanted his company. Now that she had keys, the whole situation felt like a block tower built by five-year-olds—shaky, unstable, and a little scary, even if she could hardly even admit that to herself.

  “I found the instructions for the security system so you can have your own PIN entered.”

  Talking!

  “Where?” Lise asked, ready to fly off and get the idiot sheet, wherever it might be hiding.

  Dante gestured behind her to the center island, and kept reading that blasted journal.

  If she got up and retrieved the instructions, the conversation would shut down entirely, and she needed it. Maybe he needed it too. The man was behaving so oddly she had to think this was just as weird for him as it was for her.

  He’d always at least smiled at her. Had that only been for show? His way to prove compatibility?

  Skip it. He wasn’t telling her lies if he wasn’t talking, and he was home. It was weird at the start of anything new.

  “Did you get settled okay?” he asked, finally looking up from whatever he was reading. In that moment she was so pathetically thankful she could’ve cried.

  “I didn’t bring that much. We’ll need to go to the cottage soon, but I’m stashed away for now.”

  “Good. We’ll go in a few days. I was wondering if you’d want to replicate your nursery design in one of the other rooms, or if you wanted to hire a decorator to take care of it?”

  Still talking. He’d looked back to the journal, but he was multitasking and only looking at her sporadically.

  “I could do it. Paint it...though, actually, a happy little mural with ducks in a pond maybe, on one of the big walls...that might be nice. Otherwise, when the cottage sells, and after I’m pregnant, I’ll just want to move the furniture from there over here.”

  “However you want to handle it,” Dante said, and she knew he offered as a way to help her feel at home there, even if it would’ve been nice to have him include himself in the decision, or even in the actual project. “The pulled pork in the oven will be done reheating in a few minutes, along with the sweet potato wedges.”

  “You cooked?”

  “I just reheat usually. Carmelita makes me food enough to last the week. Kind of like homemade frozen dinners. I pick them up on inventory nights. Good food. Easy for me to handle with a busy schedule. And she convinced me I needed to let her do it for me after Cassie and Rafe got married. Think she decided the project was doable since it wouldn’t need to be repeated for the other three of us. I relented when she agreed to let me pay her for it.”

  “Wow, wish I’d met her.”

  “You will.”

  “We never talked about how we were going to merge lives.”

  Dante put the journal down then and met her eyes over the table, “What do you mean?”

  “Well, like the food. Will you want me to cook and do those traditional wife types of things?” She didn’t mention his failure to seem at all excited she’d made the move to his house. Sort of, at least. He’d just stuck with the easier topics, like the one he’d brought up with the nursery.

  “If you want to.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me. I imagine we could keep doing it like this later. The food’s good, and I’m sure the extra money helps her out. Maybe split up—”

  “I’m not a good cook. I have one thing I do really well: lemon pepper chicken salad. That’s one thing that’s cooked—one very simple thing—and lots of chopping. You probably cook better than I do.”

  “Settled, then. If Carmelita’s up for it. If she’s not, I’m sure we can find someone else to provide the same kind of arrangement.” He stood, grabbed a towel and used it to move the aluminum trays from the oven to the stove top. “What else?”

  “What’s your club schedule like?” she asked next, to at least keep him talking to her.

>   “I go in two nights per week usually. Thursday to play, Monday to meet with the manager and go over things for the week. There’s an occasional weekend visit, but it’s only as needed. The manager is good at what he does.”

  With the food out of the oven, Lise went to the cabinets to find plates, glasses, and cutlery, then brought the plates to the stove.

  Once they sat down, Lise watched him return to his journal and his silence, and tried not to worry about it.

  In the silence, those other questions she wanted to avoid on their first night officially together gained ground. And she couldn’t give voice to any of them.

  If she started asking any of the thousand questions she had about him, they wouldn’t be done before it was time for bed. He radiated unease already, even if he sounded confident about everything. Baring the depth of her doubts would only start a fight on her first night in her new home.

  Save the prying for things that mattered—mostly things he’d be doing outside the home. She didn’t need to be more vigilant than that, she hoped.

  “You’ve been quiet tonight,” she said finally, but still couldn’t bring herself to admit how badly she needed a hug from him or some kind of reassurance. “Are you well?”

  Cowardly way to beat around the bush, but limiting what she’d allow herself to ask had a way of limiting her. This was only a gentle foray into more personal subjects.

  “Just doing my homework.”

  He made it sound so impersonal, even if he could’ve found a better night for homework. Yes, he needed to be up to date on the most recent medical studies, but tonight?

  It took everything in her not to sigh, frustrated with both of them. She’d been living alone for years and she couldn’t amuse herself while he read for work?

  Ridiculous.

  After she finished eating, Lise volunteered to clean up. He’d been an island unto himself for twenty minutes, but he heard her and cleared out of the kitchen. She could at least acquaint herself with the space. If they weren’t going to do much bonding tonight, she’d bond with the kitchen.

  The first strains of Dante’s piano reached her over the sound of running water, and she quickly wrenched the tap off so she could hear whatever he was playing at that baby grand in the living room.

  It was music she didn’t know, but immediately liked. There was a simplicity to the score that left her thinking of a music box from a fairy-tale straight out of Grimm—tinkling with the potential for lightness, but instead buoyed by something darker.

  If he wasn’t going to talk to her, Lise wouldn’t deprive herself of hearing him play. She followed the music and walked in as quietly as she could to keep from interrupting.

  The cock of his head at her quiet approach confirmed that he knew she was there, but he kept playing and she stayed at the sofa until the last ringing notes faded in the air.

  He turned on the stool and finally really looked at her, and there was that sadness again. But at least now when he focused on her he looked like he was actually seeing her.

  She chanced speaking. “That was beautiful. So different from how you play at the club. What was it?”

  “An arrangement of a song my mother used to sing.”

  “Your arrangement?”

  He thought a second and then shrugged. “I guess.”

  “Is it a song from Heliconia?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you having second thoughts?” She just slipped that question in there among all the questions about the song.

  He stood and looked at her for a long moment, but stayed beside the piano, “About our arrangement?”

  She nodded, then repeated her earlier statement. “You’ve been quiet tonight.”

  “No second thoughts. I sat to play, and that’s what came out. The lullaby. Her favorite.”

  Lullaby?

  “But that sounded so sad...”

  With one hand, he closed the key cover on the piano, answering in a quiet voice, “That part was me.”

  Knowing how Dante felt about his family, she didn’t need to ask for more clarification. They were embarking on an endeavor to start their own family—tonight was their first real night as a couple starting to work on the family they planned to build, and his mother would never be there to sing lullabies to any children their marriage created.

  Her mother wouldn’t either, but the difference was that Lise barely thought of her mother anymore. The thought that she’d never know her own grandchildren brought only the barest ache to Lise’s chest, and was wholly something she could live with. But Dante still mourned his mom. The tears that burned her throat then were for him, for his whole family.

  Their tragedy had pulled them so tightly together that nearly half his life later it could still hurt him.

  She swallowed, and walked directly to him, lifting her arms to catch around his shoulders. The intention had been to simply hug him, to offer comfort to him as he’d done to her after her long night with Eli—and she’d needed it. Her needs couldn’t be met without her speaking up or acting. Acting was easier than putting her feelings on display through words that might show too much.

  Dante immediately lowered his head and claimed her lips while his own arms crept around her waist and squeezed her to him.

  He’d managed again not to answer her question about his quietness, and she began to wonder if he even realized he’d been different tonight. Did he only glimpse his own feelings when he began to play?

  When he molded her to him and she could feel his body already responding, she gave up trying to sort him out and let him spin her from the piano to walk her backwards to the master suite.

  Only seven in the evening, and already to bed. He wasn’t ignoring her now.

  His kisses, his hands, his body, the need she felt coiling within him—all still there, comfortingly constant, but he still was different somehow.

  Clothing went away, a soft bed welcomed them, and as quickly as he felt her ready, he plunged into her.

  She saw it again, a shadow in his eyes as they joined together—worry and guilt—all mixed in with the pleasure neither of them could deny.

  But he was different. And it felt like something she couldn’t ignore, no matter how she knew things should be between them to be smart, to be safe—but she couldn’t leave him in pain when she saw it bare and raw in his eyes.

  Clasping his cheeks, she broke from his torturous kiss to whisper against his lips. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”

  The only answer she got was a shake of his head, and a kiss deep enough to drug her senses.

  Her body took the thick length of him over and over—hard, hot, and need-filled, until pleasure once more blocked out reason.

  After a climax she felt all the way to the arches of her feet, he rolled away and reached immediately to put out the lights. But even with the electric incandescence gone, the last shards of daylight in the room enabled her to see him, to look again.

  Her heart wanted to see him better. Her mind wanted it. Ignoring her body’s desire to remain limp, she forced herself up onto her elbows and leveraged herself against him so she could look into his eyes.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, watching her hands brace on his chest to steady her, his heart still galloping beneath her palms and her own burning in her breast.

  And there was nothing there to see. No worry. No guilt. Not even a trace of the sadness that had hung on him before and after he’d played.

  “Making sure you’re okay,” she whispered, starting to feel decidedly cranky again.

  “I’m tired, but fine.” He leaned in, kissed her gently, and then scooted down in the bed. “Early surgery in the morning. What time do you want to get up?”

  Lise answered his question, said goodnight, and then rolled onto her side and away from him. If he s
aid it was nothing, she’d just take him at his word until she had to face it again. He could live in denial, or he could live lying to her.

  It couldn’t be anything too bad this early so, whatever it was, he could deal with it alone for now.

  He was a big boy, and could take care of himself.

  But heaven help her if this wasn’t just a case of growing pains.

  CHAPTER TEN

  NOT SINCE RESIDENCY had Dante felt so tired—but this was for wholly pleasurable reasons.

  Things had started out a little weird—having Lise around his house all the time, even though it was by his demand, was distracting.

  Having her there in his bed every night couldn’t have been better, no matter how tired it left him. Not only was it forward motion, but it was starting to feel more natural. He’d come home from the club Monday and she’d been there, at night when they drove home from work—separately as Lise insisted on waiting to share their engagement news until the ring was on her finger—having her there made him eager to get home.

  He lifted himself off her and she opened her pale blue eyes. It always thrilled him to see her like that—a kind of sexual vacancy that robbed her of her senses. She made a noise of protest and he grabbed her naked hips and pulled, sliding her soft body to a slightly better position beneath him, so that when he hooked a hand under one of her knees and lifted she opened to him and he had space to settle between her luscious thighs.

  That got him a smile.

  It was going on a week since she’d moved in, and they were back in the beach house after two nights in her bed, in comfort so deep it’d felt like a vacation from his life.

  Relaxing, comforting...almost enough to negate what hadn’t happened that week—not announcing their engagement.

  No ring, no announcement. People would expect something to exclaim over when they found out, she’d argued. And they’d look at them a little cockeyed if she’d worked for him for a week and suddenly become his fiancée.