by T. K. Leigh
The sound of a fork clanging on a glass pierced the room. Everyone ceased talking, looking to the head of the table where Dante’s mother, Gabriella, stood.
“Before we fill our bellies,” she began, speaking in English to make me feel comfortable. “I wanted to take a moment to thank all of you for being here, for dropping whatever you were doing tonight to spend your evening with me. We may not have always seen eye to eye on everything…” She gave her older brother sitting beside her a playful glare. “Regardless, we’ve always stuck by each other. That’s what family does. At times, we may not like each other, but that doesn’t diminish the love we share.”
“Salute!” a few voices called out. Gabriella smiled politely, exhibiting so much grace. This wasn’t the first pre-dinner speech I’d sat through. I’d been witness to quite a few of my father’s and Brock’s over the years, but those seemed forced and fake. I’d barely spent more than an hour with this group of people, yet I knew Gabriella’s words were genuine. She said them because she meant them, not simply to earn favor with someone, as seemed to always be the case with Brock and my father.
“I’m truly blessed to have the family I do,” Gabriella continued. “To always have the support of my brother and cousins, who helped me raise my son when I thought my world was falling apart.” She turned to Dante, pinching her lips together to stop them from quivering. “You’re the best part of me…although you still have a bit to learn in the kitchen.” She winked, lightening the mood in the room. A few people chuckled politely. “It makes my heart full to see you genuinely happy for the first time in what seems like years.” She offered me an appreciative nod.
“There’s no way of knowing what our future holds. Life has a funny way of taking you in a completely different direction than what you originally planned. If one thing in my life were different, I doubt I’d be standing in front of all you wonderful people, being able to share this moment with you. Fate’s funny that way, isn’t she?”
Dante reached for my hand beneath the table, squeezing it. I shot my eyes to his, noticing a sparkle in his gaze, before returning my attention to his mom.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is thank you for traveling the same path as I.” She raised her wine glass, and we all mirrored her movements. “Salute.”
“Salute,” everyone responded.
“Now, mangia. Buon appetito.”
When I felt Dante’s breath on my neck, a shiver rolled down my spine. “Thank you, Eleanor,” he murmured.
“Why are you thanking me?” I asked in earnest, meeting his eyes. “I should be the one thanking you.”
“For what?” he pushed.
I chewed on my bottom lip, searching for the right words. “If I never ran into you, I doubt I would have been able to stay here. I probably would have already gone back home, back to that life.”
“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit,” he whispered, brushing a tendril of hair behind my ear.
“Because no one in my life ever did, except Mila…and now you.”
“I’ll always support you, mia cara, even if that means supporting your decision to leave me on Tuesday. Now, let’s eat.”
I studied him for a moment longer, wanting to list all the reasons why I should go back home in a few days, but decided against it. I didn’t want to ruin the happiness I felt at being surrounded by Dante’s friends and family by reminding myself it was short-lived.
“When did you tell your mom we were coming?” I asked under my breath, surveying the dishes upon dishes filled with more food than necessary for the ten bodies sitting at the table. It was as if Gabriella were trying to feed a small army.
“When you were packing,” he responded, spooning what appeared to be chicken onto both our plates.
“The drive wasn’t that long, was it?”
He shrugged, dishing more and more food onto my plate…pasta, green beans, mushrooms, bread. “Maybe a little over two hours.”
“How did she make all this in that short of time?”
“It’s her passion. She loves cooking. She loves being able to sit back and watch people enjoy what she’s created. Speaking from experience…” He leaned toward me, his mouth close to my skin. An ache settled in my stomach, my fingers burning to reach out and feel him. I’d never been so affected by another man. I doubted I ever would be again. “There is nothing more satisfying than knowing you brought someone so much joy, so much pleasure.”
“Is that so?” I murmured, licking my lips.
He sucked in a breath, his eyes locked with mine. “Yes. Now eat.”
“Why? Do I need energy for later?” I gave him a coy smile.
“No,” he answered, then paused. “Well, yes, but if you want to stay in my mother’s good graces, you’ll eat her food.” He grinned, grabbing one of the many bottles of wine and filling our glasses. “I’ve lost count of the number of girls I’ve dated she said were no good for me, all because they barely touched their food when they came over for supper.”
“Always the ladies’ man, huh?” I remarked, taking a sip of my wine.
“I—”
“Don’t let him try to tell you otherwise,” a voice interjected. We looked across the table at one of his cousins. When Dante had introduced us earlier, I think he said her name was Beatrice. She had the same dark coloring as everyone else, except for her eyes, the blue standing out among a sea of brown. “Dante always had a way with the girls. We were in the same grade throughout school, and all my friends always had their eyes on him. He’s certainly left a trail of broken hearts.”
“Look who’s talking!” he shot back playfully, a genuine smile on his lips.
I studied him, unable to shake the feeling that I was finally seeing the real Dante. Ever since he told me the truth, I felt as if he was able to drop all pretenses and be himself. He no longer had to be this mysterious, aloof stranger who had to watch what he said for fear he’d slip and reveal his secret. He could just be Dante. And truth be told, I liked this Dante best.
“If I remember correctly, Uncle Massimo had to chase a different guy off his property every night of the week.”
She shrugged, flashing a wicked grin nearly identical to one Dante had treated me to a few times. The fact they were related was unmistakable. “A little competition never hurt anyone. I needed to keep those guys on their toes.”
“And it worked.” A ruggedly handsome man sitting next to her slung his arm around her shoulders, a twinkle in his dark eyes.
“Giuseppe and Beatrice were what you Americans refer to as high school sweethearts,” Dante explained.
“But then we both went away to different universities.” She looked at Giuseppe, a small smile building on her lips. “Ten years ago, we ran into each other again in Palermo, of all places.” She returned her attention to me, a glow washing over her when Giuseppe leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her neck. Normally, I hated listening to other people’s accounts of how they met their significant others, always thinking it was some fabricated tale. After my unusual beginnings with Dante, I realized anything was possible. “He was engaged and working in finance in Rome. I had just opened my interior design business in Florence and wasn’t looking for any distractions.”
When he stole a glance at her, I could feel their love by the way their eyes met, neither one of them wanting to break the connection. I’d never seen anything so beautiful, so inspiring. I thought love like this only existed in the movies — the devotion, the heat, the yearning. My parents never looked at each other that way. Hell, for the longest time, I thought it was completely normal for a married couple to have separate bedrooms. Now I was beginning to think I had it all wrong. Maybe that kind of love did exist in real life.
“After seeing her again, I knew I’d been a fool to let her slip through my fingers once. I wasn’t going to let it happen again.”
“So you left your fiancée?” I lifted a brow, engrossed in their story. It was captivating…a second chance at love, a random e
ncounter between two people who were somewhere neither one should have been, as if someone else was pulling the strings. Almost like Dante and me.
“I did. I loved her, but it wasn’t the same. When I looked at her, I didn’t feel that spark, that shock straight to my heart. Not like I do when I look at Bea…even to this day, after eight years of marriage and two kids. With every day that passes, she grows even more beautiful, despite the few gray hairs I see from time to time.”
She jabbed him playfully. “They’re your fault.”
He leaned down, placing a soft kiss on the top of her head. She melted at the contact.
“How did you two reconnect?” I asked.
Beatrice returned her attention to me, taking a sip of her wine before answering. “He found where I’d set up my business. One day, when I was closing up, he was waiting outside, holding the same kind of flowers he gave me on our first date back in school.”
“What were they?”
“Scarlet poppies. And if you haven’t figured out from being with Dante, stubbornness runs in the family. So I told Giuseppe I wasn’t interested. That I didn’t have time in my life for a relationship. That his life was in Rome and mine was in Florence, so how could we possibly have a future together?”
I felt a squeeze on my hand and glanced at Dante as he gave me a knowing look, lifting a brow. I playfully rolled my eyes before returning my attention to Beatrice.
“But he was persistent. He refused to take no for an answer. He said he was going to make it his mission to prove to me we could have a future, regardless of distance or anything else. That when two people belonged together, nothing could keep them apart. Over the next few months, he did just that. Two years later, we were married. We now have two wonderful children, all because this asshole wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
The conversation around the table had grown quiet as everyone listened to Beatrice, even though they’d probably all heard the story more times than they could count. That didn’t matter. They seemed just as engrossed, as if it were the first time hearing it.
“How about you two?” Giuseppe asked as I brought a forkful of pasta to my mouth. “How did you two meet?”
I nervously shifted my gaze to Dante, unsure what story he wanted everyone to know.
“She propositioned me for a night of passionate sex, then couldn’t stay away.”
I coughed, nearly choking on my food. Dante slid my glass of water toward me, a devilish grin on his face. Bringing the glass to my lips, I glanced at all the wide, shocked eyes staring at me, my face burning. Then raucous laughter broke out.
“Good one,” Giuseppe commented. “I’ll get the real story out of you one of these days.”
Chapter Seven
“Come. I want to show you something.” Dante held his hand out as we sat with his family after dinner, my stomach aching from laughing at all their wild stories. This group of people certainly didn’t take themselves or life too seriously, which was exactly what I needed to start doing, as well.
Politely excusing myself from the conversation I’d been having with Beatrice, I placed my hand in his, allowing him to help me from the couch. “What is it?”
“You’ll see.” He winked, then led me out to the patio and into the evening air. A chill ran down my spine, making me shiver. Just as he did my first night in Italy, he shrugged out of his jacket, placing it around my shoulders. That seemed like ages ago, even though it had only been a few days. So much had happened since that night. I felt like I’d led a different life back then, like I was a different person altogether. I supposed I was.
“It’s beautiful,” I remarked as we walked down a dirt path past rows and rows of what appeared to be olive trees. Leaves and twigs crunched under our feet, the smell of grass sand dirt comforting me. The night sky was clear with just a slight breeze. Now that we were far away from the city lights, the stars shined brightly, shimmering against the darkness.
“I never appreciated it before.” I felt the burn of his eyes on my skin and glanced up at him. There was a sort of craving within…and something else. I couldn’t quite explain what it was. Or maybe I knew, but didn’t want to acknowledge it. “I do now.”
Biting my lip, I looked forward and cleared my throat, cutting through the building tension. “Your cousin, Beatrice, had quite the tale about how she and Giuseppe got together.”
“Their love story is like one you read about in books or see in films.” He linked his hand with mine again. “But I like ours better,” he murmured.
I opened my mouth to respond, but didn’t know how. How could this be a love story when it was doomed from the very beginning? A love story needed a happy ending. I didn’t foresee any happy ending with us. Instead of dwelling on that, I simply nodded, remaining silent, basking in the peacefulness surrounding me.
As much as I loved the busy and fevered pace in Rome, this was infinitely better. I’d never lived somewhere I didn’t constantly hear cars driving by. Here, all I heard was the pounding of my heart in my ears.
“What was she like?” I asked after a while, a bit hesitant at how Dante would react. Something about being surrounded by his family and hearing how he wanted me to be a part of his life invigorated me to learn everything I could about this man.
“Who?” He scrunched his brows.
“Lilly,” I said in a soft voice. “What was she like?”
He opened his mouth, reluctant.
“I’m sorry.” I looked away. “I just thought—”
“She was so full of life.” I flashed my eyes to him, seeing a nostalgic smile on his face as he stared into the distance, like he was watching a home movie of her. “When she was first born, she only wanted to sleep in our arms. I can’t even tell you how many nights I just walked around the house holding her, singing the same song over and over again. It was the only thing that would put her to sleep.”
“What song?”
“‘Edelweiss’,” he said thoughtfully, laughing slightly at the memory. “She loved music as a baby, and that love never went away. Every Sunday, we would make pancakes and dance around the kitchen to the soundtrack of whatever her favorite Disney movie was that particular day.”
“She was lucky to have such a caring and devoted father,” I remarked. I would have given anything to have just one fond memory of my parents. I did at some point, but too many years had passed. Any happy times we shared had faded, now no more clear than a distant dream.
“I like to think so. I’ll admit, when Alison told me she was pregnant and had decided to keep the baby, I was scared shitless. I was just getting my life together.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I was committed to my career. By pure dumb luck, I’d made some great connections in culinary school. They helped me get jobs at a few premier restaurants in Rome, Paris, London, and eventually the States. I was still in a bit of a whirlwind at how fast everything had taken off. But the instant I held Lilly in my arms…” He sighed, a gleam in his eyes. “None of that mattered anymore. I knew I’d do everything I could to give her the best life possible, to be a part of that life, to never take her for granted.”
He paused for a moment. Instead of pushing him to keep going, I let him talk about Lilly in his own time. “She loved Snoopy. And books. God, she loved to read. She would just pull book after book off the shelf and bring them to me to read. That’s all she wanted to do when she was younger. And even when she got a little older, too. She was able to read before she turned five…in both English and Italian.”
He closed his eyes, pulling his lips between his teeth. It made my heart ache to consider all the life experiences this young girl missed out on. Did she ever go to Disneyland? Did she ever go ice skating? Did she ever put her toes in the ocean? These were things too many people took for granted, myself included. After hearing Lilly’s story, I didn’t think I’d ever take them for granted again.
I cleared my throat. “Do you still talk to her mother?”
He glanced at me, then slowly shoo
k his head. Something about the longing and remorse on his face made me think there was more to the story, but I didn’t want to press him. I didn’t know how many old wounds I should open in one night.
“Alison didn’t handle Lilly’s passing well. Not like anyone could possibly handle that well, but she was angry, depressed. Part of her died that day, too. A big part. She loved being Lilly’s mom, and when that had been taken away from her, she didn’t feel like her life had any purpose.”
“What happened?” I asked timidly, unsure if I wanted to hear the answer.
“She pulled away from everyone — friends, family…me. I just figured it was her way of grieving. I took some time away from everything, too. About three months after Lilly died, I had a stopover in New York before heading back here. I went by Ali’s house, since she hadn’t returned any of my calls in over a week. When I got there, no one answered. I considered just walking away, but I had a bad feeling in my gut. So I used the key I still had.” He ran his hand over his face, a weariness washing over him. “I should have seen all the signs. I was an addict myself at one point.”
“Oh god…”
“I found her lying in Lilly’s bed, the needle still in her arm.”
“Dante, I’m so sorry. I…” I struggled to find the right words, rendered mute by the amount of tragedy in his life. Not only did he have to say goodbye to his own daughter, but he had to do the same to the mother of his child. I wondered how he could appear so calm and put together, considering all the trauma he’d endured.
When we came to a clearing, he stopped walking, facing me. He grabbed my hands in his, his voice taking on a fevered quality. “This is the reason I believe in fate. I have to. You may call it stupid and naïve, but believing in the idea that someone else is pulling the strings, that everyone’s destiny has been predetermined, is the only thing keeping me from losing my fucking mind, Eleanor. I need to believe there’s a reason Lilly died and Ali overdosed. If there isn’t…” His chin quivered and he swallowed hard, his voice growing quiet. “If there isn’t, I don’t think I could go on, either.”