Colin would know he hadn’t been exactly truthful. He hadn’t lied about needing to visit his family, he just hadn’t explained that it was Emelia that he had to talk to.
Pulling on a well-worn pair of blue jeans that hung low on his hips, and a long sleeved, pale blue T-shirt, he then stood and looked at himself in the mirror on the inside of his closet door.
Unless you knew his profession, you’d think he was like any other guy...but he wasn’t, and until recently, it had never played so heavily on his mind before.
Dante dragged his brown boots on and left his room wondering if Eric and Emelia were still around or if they’d gone into town.
His question was soon answered when he heard Eric’s roar of laughter coming from the kitchen—the heart of the house. He hesitated before he entered, and had all eyes on him.
Lucia was the first to break the silence. “Dante, it’s good to see you again, and so soon.” She stepped up to him and wrapped him in her welcoming embrace.
Their relationship had settled over the years, although he’d never been able to fully forgive her, and his father, for what they did back then. With how in love his parents seemed to be, his father had still had an affair while Dante’s mother had been dying. His father had to have considering that Diego and Emelia had been born not long after his mother’s death or his father’s remarriage.
“It’s good to be back,” he finally answered when he saw the frown on Lucia’s brow.
He needed to stop getting lost in the past.
His father patted him on the back. Eric tugged him close, and then it was Emelia’s turn. He noticed her slight hesitation but doubted anyone else had. And then she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed close. He dropped his face into the curve of her neck and inhaled while he pressed her closer. The hug was over all too soon, and she avoided eye contact as she went back to her cup of coffee at the table.
He glanced at Eric and saw the frown on his face, so Dante looked away quickly, not wanting to contemplate what his brother was thinking.
“Heard you had bad weather,” Eric started. “Think it’s supposed to hit here later this evening.”
“Yeah, I’m surprised they managed to take off,” he commented, and poured himself a large cup of the Italian coffee that Lucia was partial to.
His father chuckled. “He was a funny shade of green when I collected him from the airport.”
“Oh, no.” Emelia jumped up and moved over to him. As he turned with his coffee in hand, he managed to place his cup back down as she reached for him. “Are you alright? I know how much you hate flying.” She hugged him tightly before stepping back. She fiddled with the coffee pot and poured herself more, which they both knew was an excuse to be near him.
“I’m fine...In fact, I had the most restful night’s sleep that I’ve had in two weeks.” He watched Emelia closely over the brim of his coffee cup while he took a sip of the addictive drink.
His heart beat frantically when Emelia wouldn’t meet his gaze, and a blush covered her delicate features.
So it wasn’t all in his head? He just wished that he could remember more of that night other than just her touch on his flesh? Or was it for the best that he couldn’t remember?
“Everyone always sleeps better here. Think it’s the altitude that you don’t get in other parts of the states,” his father added.
Dante didn’t remind him that he lived outside of Denver, which was also at a higher altitude.
“Sit…I’ll get you some breakfast,” Lucia offered.
He moved to take his usual seat, but said, “You don’t need to go to any trouble.”
“Pfft. It’s no trouble.” Lucia busied herself with taking things out of the fridge before she turned the burner on the stove.
His attention was on his father while he watched Emelia from the corner of his eye as she joined them at the table. He took in a deep breath and tried to focus on things other than her. He asked, “Where’s Aiden? Thought he’d be around.” Initially, he’d just thought about Emelia and, of course, Eric. He’d forgotten that his brother, Aiden, had stayed in Montana for a while.
“He has a meeting in New York with one of his sponsors, so he headed out a couple of days ago,” his father volunteered, a worried look on his face. “Something is really bothering that boy and I wish I knew what.”
“He’ll tell you when he’s ready, and not before. You know what he’s like,” Eric said.
“How come you’re visiting without Sylvia?” Dante asked Eric, changing the subject.
His brother wasn’t one for visiting every other week, so him being at the house now with Emelia caused bells to ring in his head.
Emelia spent more time at the family home than anywhere else, but Eric, not so much.
Dante didn’t miss the quick glance Eric passed to Emelia before Eric offered, “I wanted to catch up with Emelia about being a bridesmaid for Sylvia, and I hoped Aiden would talk to me.” He shrugged. “Had no idea that Aiden wouldn’t be here.”
“I wonder why Aiden didn’t say anything about New York. Diego didn’t mention him being in town. Unless, of course he doesn’t know.” Emelia frowned into her cup.
“Well,” Dante started as Lucia placed his breakfast of bacon and French toast in front of him, “whatever is going on with him will eventually work itself out or he’ll talk to one of us about it.”
“Wonderful words of wisdom, Father,” Eric smirked.
His stomach fell when the reminder of his title left his brother’s mouth. It was the cue he should have needed to walk away, but his conscience, and the love that he would always harbor for Emelia, wouldn’t let him.
He winced at a kick to his shin. “Lucia asked you a question,” Eric told him, annoyance clear in his voice.
“Sorry. I zoned out.” He faced Lucia.
“I was just asking if your breakfast was okay.” She smiled.
“Mmm,” he mumbled around his mouthful of the French toast. Once he’d swallowed it down with coffee, he replied, “This is great. Thanks for making my favorite, and no one makes French toast like you do.”
“Thank you.” Lucia beamed at his compliment, her hand sliding into his father’s.
“I say it as it is.” He finished his breakfast and finally met Emelia’s gaze full on. “Can we talk soon?”
Emelia hooded her eyes and nodded in response.
He didn’t miss the look that passed over Lucia’s face, or the frown that marred her brow as her worried gaze stayed on her daughter.
Eric cleared his throat. “Lucia, are you both sure that having the wedding here is going to work? We don’t want to stop business.”
Dante sighed at Eric’s abrupt change of subject, but, at least, his brother had snagged Lucia’s attention.
“Don’t you dare think about having your wedding anywhere else, unless Sylvia wants it where she grew up. But I’d be insulted otherwise.” She raised a brow and waited for Eric to agree.
“Don’t worry. I just wanted to check before Sylvia finalized the invitations.”
Dante tuned out the banter about weddings and when he met Emelia’s gaze, he indicated with his head to follow him out.
She nodded in acknowledgement.
Chapter Sixteen
Not having any privacy in the house, the only place that Dante could think of was his bedroom to talk to Emelia. They certainly needed privacy, he just wasn’t sure how wise it was.
Wise or not, that’s where he led Emelia to.
His room was like the others in the house, and he had his own bathroom. He had a large king-sized bed that took up a lot of the space, but he had a large fitted closet down one side of the bedroom with built in drawers. His favorite comfy reclining chair took up one corner of the room, close to his bed, which was where he’d spend many a night, reading or on his laptop while he prepared sermons.
The room was just fine for what he used it for, but, with Emelia in the room, it seemed to shrink.
While she stood
at the bedroom window looking down to the courtyard below, he admired her and felt pain lance through his heart at the thought of her belonging to another man when she was his.
But she isn’t yours . . .
Emelia’s dark hair flowed down her back in long, glossy, black waves that his fingers itched to touch. So he shoved his hands into his pockets and dropped to the edge of the bed.
“Em, will you sit?” he asked.
Without saying a word, she took a seat in his chair and met his gaze. Although her eyes looked wary, he noticed longing as well.
Closing his eyes, he inhaled, then snapped them open and watched her. He decided to be blunt, and admitted, “I remember your touch...your hands...your mouth.”
She flushed, but held his gaze, so he continued, “I...I released in your mouth.” He clenched his fists as his own words left his mouth, and his arousal threatened to cut off circulation. He only hoped that she hadn’t noticed.
He wanted to pull her close when her eyes glazed with tears, but he forced himself to stay put. He rested his elbows on his knees and let his hand hang between his thighs. He wanted her to think he was relaxed when he was anything but.
“Em, please say something...I need to know…”
She wiped a lone tear. “What you remember happened. I didn’t mean to touch you...I came out of the bathroom with a wet cloth and you’d gotten, um, naked.” She looked away. “You’d climbed onto the bed...and I’m not sure whether you were dreaming or not, but you looked in pain.” She glanced at his groin.
He groaned and met her startled gaze. “This is so inappropriate and it happens all the time when we’re together.” Not only was his erection embarrassing, it was wrong, but he couldn’t bring himself to apologize.
Emelia glanced at his groin again before her gaze lifted to his. “It’s no secret as to how I feel about you, Dante. And I should feel guilty for taking advantage of you, but I can’t. I wanted to feel you under my hands and then when you, um...at the end, I craved to touch you.”
She killed him with her confession, so he confessed, “I wake nightly remembering, but what I can’t remember, and long to, is whether it went any further.” He watched her tense, and then sighed.
Emelia wet her lips and admitted, “You wrapped me up in your arms and pinned me beneath you,” she offered a watery smile, “but you passed out cold.”
He sighed in relief, content to know he hadn’t broken the most sacred of vows, but conflicted over his desire and need to be with her. This was his half-sister. His father’s daughter. He knew it was all kinds of wrong, but, God forgive him, he still craved her.
“I wish you hadn’t fallen asleep, Dante,” she whispered. “I wish you’d have made love to me so that I would have known what it was truly like to be with you,” she admitted.
The honesty in her eyes destroyed his heart. He knew how she felt, and he had a feeling that if they’d made love, he would have remembered it, regardless of how drunk he’d been.
Their situation couldn’t go on…
“As much as it kills something inside of me, you have to live your life, Emelia. You have to.”
“You’re the only one I’ll ever want, and if I can’t be with you, then I don’t want to be with someone else.”
“What about the friend of Diego’s?” he asked, his fists clenched tight.
“He’s okay, but he isn’t the one that I want...how long are you staying for?”
He let the change of subject go because, if he didn’t, he wasn’t sure what would come out of his mouth, so he replied, “A couple of days.”
Emelia stood. “We need to talk again before you leave. There’s something that you need to know, but I need to talk to my mom first.”
He frowned, wondering what he needed to know, and agreed, “We can talk. We can always talk, Emelia.”
She nodded and wiped her tears with a Kleenex before she started to make her way past him.
Dante reached out and took her hand with his. She didn’t turn to him, but waited, so he said quietly, “Thank you for telling me.” When she still didn’t look at him, Dante stood close behind her and buried his face in her long curls. He inhaled as Emelia caught her breath.
I’m glad that I didn’t make love to you, because if that happened, I would have wanted to remember every single minute of it.
“You better go.”
“I know...but you need to let go of me if you want me to leave.”
He closed his eyes, inhaled her again to pull her scent into his lungs, and finally released her hand.
Emelia hesitated before she left him standing in his room while she closed the door behind her.
He had no clue how long he stood in the middle of his room, but the dampness on his face caused a hand to lift to wipe at it. He moved his hand away and looked at the wetness that coated his fingers, and that’s when he realized that he was crying.
His feet moved and then he was in the bathroom, staring at his reflection in the mirror.
Reaching out, he turned the faucet on and splashed his face with cold water before he grabbed a towel and dried off.
As he glanced at his reflection in the mirror, he looked sick, or at least like someone who had a lot on his mind.
Chapter Seventeen
“Eric,” Emelia shouted the minute she’d spotted her brother heading in the opposite direction.
He came to a stop and swiveled around on his booted feet while he pinned her with his stare. “What’s wrong?” he asked, and frowned when she stopped directly in front of him.
The minute she’d left Dante, Emelia knew that it was time to find her mom and ask what she knew, even though it filled Emelia with a strange mixture of hope and fear. She had to, and she had to do it now because Dante was tortured with his feelings for her. It wouldn’t change the fact that he was a priest, but it would take the sister element away. Her only hope was that Dante would listen afterwards.
“Emelia,” Eric gripped her shoulders, “snap out of it and answer me. What’s going on?”
“I’m going to find my mom and talk to her, now. I have to. Can you distract Dad?”
“Wow, slow down.”
She caught her breath and admitted, “I’ve just spoken to Dante about that night, and I need to tell him everything, but I can’t until I’ve talked to my mom, so please distract Dad. Chances are they’ll be together somewhere.”
Eric sighed. “I’ve been thinking about this, and I think it’s best if he’s present as well because it concerns them both.”
Of course it did.
She’d been so concentrated on just talking to her mom that she hadn’t really entertained the thought of talking to them both. Her mom was the easier one to talk to and always had been, but she loved them both and really did need answers. Emelia nodded her head. “You’re right.”
Eric chuckled. “I always am.”
Emelia rolled her eyes and elbowed him in the stomach. “I will never say those words again to you.”
“C’mon, let’s find them.” He shook his head, and turned her back around.
Her feet felt lighter as she moved closer to their father’s office because, although talking to Dante had embarrassed her something wicked, he’d given her the confidence to talk, and ask for the truth.
Eric knocked on the office door and waited to be given permission to enter. There weren’t many rules in the house, but just walking into their father’s office was one of them.
“We need to talk to you both,” Eric said on entering. “Is now a good time?”
She felt on display as her mom and dad stared at them before her dad asked, “Is everything okay?”
“I just need to ask you something, and I want Eric with me,” Emelia added, and took a seat on the sofa beside Eric.
“This is why you’re both here at the same time, and it’s nothing to do with your wedding?” Lucia stated while looking at Eric.
“That’s right,” Eric confirmed.
As though her mother
sensed that it was her who needed to speak, she turned in Emelia’s direction. “Emelia, honey.” She smiled, offering encouragement like she’d done all Emelia’s life.
Emelia cleared her throat and debated where or even how to start the conversation, but settled on her eighteenth birthday.
“Just after I turned eighteen,” she paused, and fidgeted with the purple polish on her nails when she realized the room was so quiet you’d hear a pin drop, “I’d gone looking for Mom.”
Eric took her hand and squeezed, she smiled and continued, “I found her, but you were both arguing, and then you started talking about someone dying. So I didn’t let you know I was there. I didn’t want to interrupt.”
Her mom paled, and grasped the necklace at her throat while holding her husband’s gaze before she looked back to Emelia. “Go on.”
“I need to know if what I heard is true? Did Francesca, Eric’s mom, beg you both to marry while she was...sick? Is it true that dad isn’t my biological father? What really happened back then?” Emelia gushed everything out so quickly that she wasn’t sure if she’d been coherent.
That was until she looked at her parents, and realized that they’d heard everything she’d said. They both sat in shock, and the tears on her mother’s face made her heart hurt. She knew that there would be tears, but it hurt knowing that she was the cause.
She had to keep telling herself that she hadn’t caused the mess, because it had already been decided before she’d even been born.
Her father walked around his desk and pulled his wife up and into his arms. “It’s alright, honey,” he consoled her before he pulled her down with him on the opposite sofa. “My name is on your birth certificate,” he whispered, his voice husky with tears.
“You’ll always be my father. A piece of paper will never change that, but I do need to know the truth.” She wiped at a tear, and hoped that she wouldn’t continue to be a faucet.
Her father nodded. “In my eyes, you and Diego will always be mine.” He smiled at her mom before he turned back to her. “I’ve never treated you differently, and I never will, but you’ve asked for the truth so we owe it to you.” He looked at Eric. “You’ve known?”
Love in Purgatory (De La Fuente #2) Page 8