Love in Purgatory (De La Fuente #2)

by Lexi Buchanan

  “Since Thanksgiving.”

  “Okay,” her father started as he turned back to Emelia. “You know that your mother was good friends with my first wife, Francesca?”

  Emelia nodded.

  “Lucia had been dating someone. She was in love…or thought she was, but he grew increasingly violent. By the time she realized how extremely violent he was, she was pregnant by him. Francesca knew…she also knew that she only had a short time left. To protect her friend, and her friend’s babies, she begged me to marry Lucia, to claim her children as mine. I refused at first because the thought of being married to anyone other than Francesca made me sick to the stomach.” He wrapped his arm around his wife.

  “She eventually wore me down because she said that she couldn’t go peacefully until she knew that me and her children would be looked after...emotional blackmail...myself and Lucia agreed…I loved your mother, Eric. She was my life before she died.”

  Eric cleared his throat. “I know.”

  “Of course when you,” he looked at Emelia, “and Diego were born, it caused so much conflict between me and Dante, and you, Eric, but Francesca had sworn us to secrecy. No way could your biological father find out about you. My heart was broken back then so I didn’t really care, which I should have. Perhaps if I had, then I’d still have the friendship with Francesca’s brother, Elias McKenzie, which I once had. It wouldn’t have ruined my relationship with my oldest son if I’d been honest, either. I have regrets about that time in our lives, but we just couldn’t risk it back then.

  “Over the years, I fell deeply in love with Lucia, and that’s when we renewed our wedding vows. I love your mother, Emelia, with all my heart...and Eric, your mother is still in my heart and she always will be.”

  Emelia sniffled into a Kleenex, and stood to accept her mother’s arms around her. “I’m so sorry we never told you.” Her mother kissed Emelia on her cheek. “We nearly did so many times after we knew he’d died, but as time went on, it became more difficult. Everyone seemed settled in their lives that we just left it.”

  “We know now,” Emelia pulled away, and looked at Eric.

  He hadn’t said much and he was old enough to remember that time in their lives, but as she looked at him now, he looked as though he was fighting back his anger.

  “Eric?” she reached for his arm and, after he glanced at her, he looked at his father.

  “Our lives could have been different if you had told us the truth. We all missed our mother, and I know Dante and I thought you’d been having an affair,” he paused, and Emelia saw the anger he tried to hide, “while our mother had been dying,” he shouted.

  Emelia felt numb while she watched Eric get angrier by the minute. He had every right to. Before he could carry on, she asked, “Who is mine and Diego’s biological father?”

  Silence followed, and was finally answered by their father, “He was a violent man, and we got word that he’d died, which is what you overheard nine years ago,” her father answered. “If you really need to know more details, we will tell you, but that is something I want you to think very carefully about first because once you know, it isn’t something that can be unknown.”

  She gasped when the office door was pushed open, and Dante stood there, his expression clouded in anger.

  A stunned silence followed before she watched Dante pull himself together. “Emelia isn’t my sister?” he asked so quietly that she didn’t think anyone could hear.

  “Of course she is,” her father stated, a trace of anger in his voice.

  “No...she isn’t,” Dante growled.

  “How much did you hear?” Eric asked.

  “Fucking everything.”

  Emelia’s eyes widened in shocked surprise at hearing the curse leave Dante’s mouth—a true sign that he was angry and upset.

  Emelia was glad that he’d overheard everything because it meant that she didn’t have to work up the courage to tell him. If only she could get her legs to move, she could go and offer him comfort. He looked sick at what he’d heard…sick and angry.

  “Why?” Dante asked. “Dammit to hell, answer me,” he shouted. “All these years I thought you’d betrayed my dying mother with Lucia. Why the hell did you let me believe that? From the moment that you told us about Lucia and her pregnancy, our relationship has never been the same. Do I mean so little to you that you didn’t care?”

  “That’s not true,” their father started, tears hovered on his lashes. “You’re my son, and I love you...I promised your mother. It was her last request before she died. It wasn’t a promise that I made lightly or that I was willing to break.”

  Dante looked ready to break when Emelia took a step toward him. Her heart broke, as he took a step away without even looking at her.

  “As I got older, became a man, you had plenty of time to tell me then, to explain...except you never did.”

  Dante looked ready to break, so she took another step toward him. When she moved to touch him, he finally looked at her. “Don’t, Emelia. I can’t deal with you right now.” His black eyes looked straight through her—hard and uncaring.

  The man standing in front of her wasn’t the man that she’d fallen in love with all those years ago. He wasn’t the man that she still loved. There didn’t appear to be any sign of her Dante when she held his gaze—it was empty.

  His jaw clenched tightly as his gaze left her to glare at his father again. “What about the others? I’m presuming you’re going to tell them.” It wasn’t a question that came out of Dante’s mouth but a demand, like: you will tell them.

  “Dante?”

  “Em, not now,” he snarled, and she took a step back—hurt and heartbroken.

  Eric came up beside her and pulled her back toward him. “Leave him for now,” he whispered. “He needs to let everything he’s heard sink in. Give him time.” Eric took her into his arms.

  She was glad for the support, and snuggled against Eric because she’d never needed comforting more than she did then, while the truth that she’d known for years had finally been told.

  The deepest hurt came from Dante’s rejection. She knew that it had to be one heck of a shock for him to discover the truth after all these years.

  It still hurt though.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Dante’s head throbbed with what he’d overheard. He’d had no intention of listening in on the conversation until he’d heard ‘biological’, and then he’d been frozen in place...and he’d listened.

  Why had Emelia and Eric been in the room for the discussion without him? Had he been excluded for some reason?

  He looked at his father, and asked, “Were you planning on telling me or was this just Emelia and Eric’s show?”

  “No!” Emelia cried, and it was like a knife to the heart. He’d pushed her away when she’d needed holding, like his brother held her now.

  She’d wanted to console him as well. He’d seen it on her face clear as day, but he knew that he’d fall apart if she touched him.

  “No, Dante,” she tried to move to him but the arm Eric had wrapped around her waist prevented her from going anywhere, “I wanted to talk to them first, and then I was going to come and tell you...I needed what I overheard confirmed before I told you.”

  Wait. What?

  “What do you mean overheard?” he bit out between his clenched jaw.

  “About Diego and me having a different father, everything you just overheard, really.”

  He couldn’t even think about it because his head swam with words that came at him all at once. His first thought had been to run, and he wished that he’d done that so he didn’t have to face everyone. He was a priest and supposed to be able to forgive, but he never truly forgave his father for the betrayal of his mother. How could he forgive now when the truth to those lies could have sent his life along a different path?

  “How long have you known?” he asked Emelia, and when she stayed silent and chewed on her lip, he looked at his father and Lucia and then t
o Eric, but no one volunteered the answer. “How long?” he growled.

  “About nine years.”

  He took a step back at Emelia’s confession, and if it wasn’t for the look on her face, he’d have thought that he’d misheard, but he hadn’t. “Nine years?” he hissed.

  “I tried to tell you after...but you wouldn’t talk to me or answer my calls, and then I discovered that you’d gone to the church, and tried again. It was so hard. You’re too damn stubborn.”

  “And you?” he asked, Eric.

  “Since Thanksgiving,” Eric answered.

  “I need to think.” With that he turned and left the room as quickly as he’d entered without any idea as to where he was going. His thoughts were running faster than he could and he knew he couldn’t outrun them. But he could outrun his family.

  His room was out of the question, and he knew that Eric would come after him. He’d heard Emelia as she begged Eric to go after him so he wasn’t alone. Even after he’d pushed her away, she was still thinking about him and how he was feeling.

  Emelia…

  He’d wanted nothing more than to have her arms around him, and to accept the comfort that she’d wanted to give him. He shouldn’t have pushed her away.

  As well as having a lot on his mind, it was obviously filled with Emelia because he found himself standing in the middle of her favorite place in the house—the sunroom.

  “Everyone comes here to think,” Eric drawled as he entered and closed the door behind himself.

  “Why Eric? Why didn’t she tell everyone back then?”

  “You heard her. You refused to listen to what she had to say.”

  “Fuck,” he cursed and tugged at his hair while he noticed his brother’s frown.

  As a rule, he never cursed, or at least he hadn’t since he’d become a priest, but now he wanted to scream or curse or, maybe even, punch something.

  “You can’t blame Emelia for all this. She was only eighteen when she overheard the truth—too young...I don’t get why you’re not relieved. The feelings you have for Emelia, although not ideal, are not wrong.”

  Dante moved to the window and looked out while he tried to calm down, and he admitted, “I am relieved about that. Some part of me must have known, but it doesn’t really make any difference in the long run. I’m still a priest.” He let the silence surround them before he added, “My relationship suffered with our one remaining parent, Eric.” He turned to face his brother. “For many years, I could hardly be in the room with Father because of what I thought he’d done. I suffered for years with the knowledge that our father had an affair when, in actual fact, he hadn’t. He lost a good friend in our uncle Elias. We lost our cousins. Lives changed because of what happened.”

  Feeling weary, Dante dropped into a chair and rested his head against the back of it while he gazed up at the glass ceiling. He couldn’t see anything because the snow had covered the roof, so he closed his eyes and rubbed at his temple. “I gave everything up when I realized I had feelings for Emelia and thought she was my sister. I ran scared, Eric, and for what?”

  He lifted his head and met Eric’s gaze as his brother answered, “You have a real chance at happiness…more than you thought you’d ever be allowed, and you need to think about what you want more—Emelia or the church.”

  Tears came out of nowhere as he pressed his finger and thumb against his eyelids to try and stop them from falling. “I wish it was that easy,” he admitted quietly.

  “It is,” Eric stated before he left him alone.

  No, it wasn’t.

  He felt so tired that his body wanted to stay where he was, but he needed to move, and leave the house.

  Home called him and was the only place that he’d be able to think properly. His family wouldn’t be around, making it easier to get his head in the place that he needed it to be. He needed the clear air and the quiet of Frederick, and he certainly needed to be somewhere that his family wasn’t.

  He felt hollow inside, as though everything had gone poof with what he’d heard...turning his head toward the door, he heard footfalls outside just before the handle turned and his father walked inside.

  He watched as his father walked closer and took the seat opposite him without giving him a choice as to whether or not Dante wanted to talk. “I need you to understand something,” his father started and paused when he couldn’t go on.

  His father looked his sixty-five years, when he usually looked ten years younger. His face was strained with raw emotion running through him. So when he’d pulled himself together and continued, Dante listened, “I fell in love with your mother when I was fourteen years old, and I never looked at anyone else. I’d have given her the world if she’d asked, and when she died I kept the promise that I made to her. It seemed so important to her that she know her children and me were looked after when she left us. Neither of us considered what that promise would do to the family—to you, our eldest son.

  “For a long time, I let life pass me by, and in truth, if it hadn’t been for Lucia, I’d have probably followed your mother because I was working myself into the ground. Lucia made sure I ate, and she made sure my sons had food on the table, carried on with school. Lucia made sure that everyone kept moving forward.”

  His father paused to wipe at his eyes, and Dante didn’t know how he was supposed to feel at his father’s words.

  “Lucia held us all together,” his father continued, “When you asked me to sign the papers for school, I had no idea it was for you to board at an all boys catholic school. It wasn’t until Lucia was heavily pregnant and put on bed rest that I realized how much she did for us all, and it made me sit up and finally take notice.” He offered Dante a wry smile, “If you remember, I visited you at school and tried to get you to come home, but you refused. You’re as stubborn as me…and, I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me the most.”

  Dante sat forward and rubbed at his forehead again, his headache getting worse. “Things would have been so different if you’d at least confided in me, and maybe Eric. We were the oldest and more able to understand why you married a pregnant Lucia. Everything could have been so different.” He looked away before he met his father’s gaze again. “I probably would still be in the restaurant business.”

  “What? I thought you loved being a priest...you don’t?” his father asked in more shock than before.

  What was he really saying?

  He hadn’t been settled in the collar for a good while, but that was because of his feelings for Emelia.

  “Dante?”

  “I ran to the church...after something happened. Something that, at the time, I thought was wrong. So very wrong.” He sighed, heavily. “And now I’ve learned that it wasn’t wrong after all. Well, not as wrong as I thought it was.”

  “You aren’t making a bit of sense now.” His father frowned.

  “I know I’m not.” Dante stood and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’m going to head home. I need time to think about everything.” He moved, and placed his hand on his father’s shoulder and squeezed. “I love you, Dad, and even though it hurts a lot for the time that we wasted, I do understand. I remember you and Mom before she got sick. You’d have given her anything, and sometimes I used to think that if you could have, you’d have traded places with her so that she could live.”

  His father covered his hand and patted, and with one last squeeze, Dante walked out and went to grab his things so he could leave quickly.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Why are you still in bed,” Diego grumbled before he opened her curtains to let in the bright sun. “Are you sick? Mom never said anything.”

  She hid under the covers when her brother let the light into her room. She’d just woken up at his abrupt entry, and wasn’t in the mood for anything. In fact, she felt so close to tears at the sight of her twin, she tried to fight them back before Diego removed the cover, which she knew he’d do.

  It had been two days since she knew
the absolute truth, and since Dante had left without one word to her. She’d messaged him, and it hurt that he hadn’t even read them. Eric had left to go home to Sylvia, which left Emelia at home to be there when her parents told the others.

  Mateo and Kasey had arrived the night before, and Aiden would have flown home with Diego as he was still in New York. But now she had to stay quiet until her brothers were called in to their father’s office.

  She certainly wasn’t going to be the one to tell anyone, not after Dante’s reaction, which still hurt deep in her heart.

  The longing to go to him, so that he wasn’t alone, was strong, and she knew that it wouldn’t be long before she gave in and turned up on his doorstep with her bags. He’d have to deal with her then—no avoidance.

  “Sis,” Diego gently called, sounding unsure, which wasn’t like him. “Emelia, c’mon out from there. You have me worried.”

  She felt him sit on the bed at her hip just before the covers were peeled back from her face. “I’m okay,” she whispered.

  Diego frowned. “You don’t sound too good.” He placed the palm of his hand over her forehead. “You don’t have a temperature. Why are you hiding in here?”

  “I’m not.”

  He arched a brow as though to say, ‘yeah, right’.

  “Okay, maybe I am.” She pushed herself up and rested her chin on her knees. “I’m glad you’re here.” That was the truth as well. She always wanted Diego when she was upset, and her twin never bothered with what others thought when he held her. He was always affectionate with her.

  She climbed from the bed and crawled onto Diego’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. She sighed and felt that everything would be okay with his arms around her, protecting her.

  “Emelia, you know I’m always here for you, but you really have me worried. Does this have anything to do with why Mom and Dad have called us all here?”

  He stroked down her back, but held her tightly against him with his other hand. And then, when he kissed her shoulder, she started to quietly sob against him.