by T. K. Leigh
“Please, God,” I murmured as I hurried toward a set of doors leading into the theater. “Let him be here.” I reached for the handle, but an usher prevented me from going any farther.
“I apologize, ma’am. No re-admittance. Did you leave something? If you tell me where you were sitting and what it was, I can have one of our ushers look for it.”
“I didn’t leave anything. I…,” I stammered, hoping I wouldn’t come off sounding like an obsessed fan. “I came to see Dante.”
“You and over a thousand other people.”
“I know. I just… Is he still here?”
“No, ma’am,” he said in a drawn-out voice, looking me up and down. It was readily apparent that he thought I was crazy. And I probably looked it — out of breath, hair disheveled, barefoot, holding a pair of heels, limping. “You’re about twenty minutes too late.”
My shoulders fell. I briefly closed my eyes, releasing a heavy sigh. Maybe Mila was wrong. Maybe fate didn’t need a little push. Because I pushed, but fate seemed to do everything in her power to stand in my way.
“Isn’t that the story of my life?” I remarked as I shuffled away, my voice barely audible from the frustration building in my throat, in my heart.
I emerged into the crisp night air, my body chilled now that the adrenaline had worn off. Holding onto the railing, I carefully stepped down the short set of stairs, keeping my eyes downturned as I made my way through the thinning crowd outside the theater. Jealousy bubbled inside me at the notion that all these people had been in Dante’s presence this evening, had heard his voice, had seen his smile. They didn’t realize how lucky they were.
Pausing for a moment, I glanced back at the building, considering whether or not I should take a photo of myself in front of it and tag Dante so he knew I tried to get to him. In the end, I resisted the urge. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe we were doomed to the same fate of Hèloïse and Abelard. Maybe our love was best shared in love letters…or, in our case, Instagram posts.
With slow steps, I limped through campus, my ankle now screaming at me. A few people, clearly students, stopped to ask if I needed any help, but I refused their assistance. I didn’t mind the pain. It was nothing compared to the ache in my heart, my frustration turning into despair. I’d done everything to stay mostly positive through our separation, thinking fate would eventually bring us together again. I didn’t know how much longer I could do that.
When I finally reached the street where I parked, my car nowhere to be found, all I could do was laugh hysterically.
“I get it!” I shouted to the sky. “You win, okay?” I was certain I looked like a complete lunatic — standing on the dirty sidewalk in downtown Los Angeles, holding a pair of heels, my hair disheveled and dress askew from all the running I’d done. “I give up.” I shook my head, doing my best to stop my chin from quivering, barely able to speak through the painful lump in my throat. “I give up.”
I didn’t know why I thought this would work, that I’d get to him, that he’d see me and immediately sweep me into his arms, begging me in his husky, commanding voice to never leave him again. The image in my head was so real. I could almost hear his voice and feel his arms around me. Why couldn’t that be my reality?
Defeated, I reached into my purse and grabbed my phone, about to call for an Uber, but paused. I didn’t want to go home and be reminded of how miserable I was. To see all the clothes Dante had bought me hanging in my sad excuse for a closet. To lay awake in an empty bed, the memory of falling asleep beside him gutting me. I just needed a moment to myself, then I could move on. It was time I finally moved on.
Tears prickling my eyes, I limped down the street, crossed the train tracks, and headed toward what had become one of my favorite spots during my unemployment — the Rose Garden by the Colosseum. The instant I walked through the archway, a sort of tranquility washed over me, the hustle of Los Angeles all but vanishing. I hoped the peacefulness could quiet the troubled thoughts invading my subconscious, help me stop feeling, make me numb, even if for just a minute.
I walked past rows of perfectly manicured rose bushes, the bulbs in full bloom. I took my time as I made my way up the path toward the fountain in the center, stopping to smell a few of the roses, the powdery sweet aroma calming me like a baby’s blanket.
I drew closer to the fountain, smiling wistfully at the sight of a couple who had obviously just come from their wedding reception and were having their photos taken. I gazed upon them with a mixture of envy and longing. They looked so happy, so in love. I experienced that for a brief moment, but was stubborn and pushed it away. And for what?
My ankle throbbing, I took a moment to rest on a bench in front of the fountain. As I watched the water dance in the sky before falling back into the pool, I couldn’t help but think of Dante. Everything seemed to remind me of him. Fountains. Coffee. Pasta. Wine. Even things as simple as an old tree and fresh-cut grass. It only took a week, but he’d ingrained himself in every facet of my life. So much so that even three months later, my need for him had only grown stronger, the hole in my heart where his love used to be leaving me empty.
I closed my eyes, imagining that we were back in Italy in front of the Trevi Fountain. But this time, instead of me saying I needed to leave, I agreed to stay. The smile and relief that washed over his expression when I finally gave him what he wanted, what I wanted, made my heart nearly burst. I ran my fingers over my lips, almost able to feel his mouth on mine, the scruff of his two-day beard scratching my skin.
I wrapped my arms around my body, fighting back the tears forming in my eyes. His intoxicating aroma of basil, mint, and licorice seemed to grow stronger with each breath I took, as if his scent were permanently ingrained in my nostrils. I wondered if I would always smell it, even after years. Even after we both moved on with our lives and tried to find that same happiness we’d been lucky enough to experience for too short a time. Even when we turned to dust.
My phone chimed, snapping me out of my fantasy world. I looked at where it sat on my lap. When I saw I’d been tagged in one of Dante’s posts, I inhaled a shaky breath at the irony. Biting my lips to stop my chin from quivering, I wiped at my tears, doing my best to reel in my emotions, despite the constant lump in my throat becoming more pronounced with each passing second. I didn’t know if I could bear to look at his post. Not anymore. Not knowing fate obviously didn’t think we belonged together. But I’d become addicted to these posts from him, had grown dependent on his words for my own happiness.
Maybe tonight was fate’s way of telling me it was time I found something else that made me happy.
“Just one more,” I said to myself. “Then I’ll stop. It’s time to stop.”
Picking up my phone with a shaky hand, I reluctantly opened the Instagram app, clicking on Dante’s most recent post. My eyes fell on the image and I quickly shot off the bench, paying no attention to my ankle. I turned around in a circle, looking everywhere for a familiar face, but the only people I saw were the newlyweds and their wedding photographer.
I looked back at my phone, staring at the photo of me sitting in this exact spot, my back facing the camera, wearing the dress I currently had on, my hair styled the same, right down to the tangled mess of its present state. I glanced up again, scanning the area, the world seeming to spin around me. He was here. I could feel it. In my veins. In my bones. In my heart.
“Where are you?” I murmured, limping around the fountain as I frantically searched for him, my chest heaving. If he wasn’t here, if this was just a cruel joke, I didn’t know how I would survive. I was ready to fall apart as it was. This… This would wreck me.
I returned my eyes to my phone to determine the exact angle he’d snapped the photo. When I finally noticed the caption, I stopped moving, allowing the words to wash over me. Instantly, I sensed a warmth approach from behind, just like that day back in June
when I waited for him in front of the Spanish Steps.
Then it hit me. That voice I’d dreamt about. The heat I’d longed to feel on my skin. “‘I’ll follow thee and make a heaven of hell, to die upon the hand I love so well.’ William Shakespeare. A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”
God, it sounded so real, right down to his toe-curling accent. I wanted to believe it was, but what if it wasn’t? What if I finally hit my breaking point?
“Please tell me this isn’t a joke,” I begged in a shaky tone, refusing to turn around, worried I’d do so and find myself alone.
“It’s not a joke, Eleanor.” A hand fell on my hip, forcing me around.
I stared into his dark eyes and reached for his face, choking out a sob when I felt the scruff against my trembling hand. I drew my body closer as he cupped my cheeks, both of us gazing at each other, worried we’d blink and it would all disappear.
“How are you here?” I whispered.
“I was about to ask you the same question.” He wiped the tears cascading down my face, his eyes wet with unshed tears of his own.
“I pushed fate and she pushed back,” I explained, swallowing hard. “I tried to get to you, but everything that could go wrong did. I thought it was fate telling me it wasn’t meant to be.”
He brought his body even closer, lowering his mouth toward mine. Our breath intermingled, his eyes searing me, the fire that had grown dull over the past few months now a raging inferno once more.
“And now?”
“Now I can’t help but think that fate has a terrible sense of humor.” I laughed slightly, another tear trickling down my cheek. Swiping at it, his thumb traveled across my face and caressed my bottom lip, sending a spark through me.
“Tell me, Eleanor,” he began, hope building in his gaze. “Have you had enough time to figure out who you are?”
My eyes locked on his, I gave him the only answer I could. “I don’t know who I am without you. You’re a part of me. Without you in my life, I’m hopelessly incomplete.”
He smiled, exhaling a short breath. His lips ghosted against mine, giving me the slightest hint of a kiss. “It took you long enough to figure that out.” He pressed his hand to my back, erasing the last bit of distance between us. Then he kissed me, fully, beautifully, completely, the feeling of his lips on mine releasing all the tension that had built up over our months of separation.
I moaned, running my fingers through his hair as I deepened the exchange, telling him without words how much I missed him, how much I needed him, how much I loved him. Our kiss was passionate, greedy, and perfect in all the ways I imagined it would be.
He pulled away. “Eleanor,” he panted, cupping my face, his gaze intense.
“Yes?” I swallowed hard.
“Don’t ever make me live without you again. Please. I just… It makes no sense, but I don’t ever want to be the person I am without you. Okay?”
I smiled through my tears. “I don’t ever want to be the person I am without you, either. You found me, just like I hoped you would. Now you’re stuck with me.”
“Sempre e per sempre?” He lifted a brow as his lips lowered to mine once more.
“Sempre e per sempre. Always and forever.”
As his tongue swept against mine, his arms holding me in a way that made me think he’d never let go, his need consumed me. I finally lowered the walls I’d constructed over the previous twenty-eight years of my life. I finally realized I was worthy of everything I’d been deprived of before. Happiness. Devotion. Love.
This time, I wasn’t going to let it go without a fight.
Chapter Thirteen
I struggled to keep up with Dante’s long strides as he pulled me through the elaborate lobby of the Beverly Wilshire, my heels sliding on the slick, shiny tile. He slowed his steps, glancing back at me.
“Are you limping?” He lifted a brow.
I faltered briefly before correcting myself. While we made our way from the Rose Garden and into an Uber, I’d been conscious to act as if I weren’t in any pain. I’d almost forgotten about my ankle…until now.
“My heel got caught in a crack in the sidewalk when I was trying to get to you before your appearance was over.” I tried to play it off as I continued toward the elevators, tugging him along with me. “I twisted my ankle or something.”
He immediately came to a stop, forcing me to stop, as well. “Why didn’t you say anything?” His eyes raked over every inch of me. His obvious concern for my well-being warmed my heart, reminding me why I’d fallen for him so hard, so fast, so easily. “We need to get you to a doctor.”
“No, we don’t.” Vehemently shaking my head, I raised myself onto my toes, doing my best to hide any sign of discomfort. The last thing I needed was to sit in a waiting room for hours just for a doctor to tell me to put some ice on it. There was only one thing I needed at this moment, only one thing that could heal the pain I’d been enduring the past three months, maybe longer. “I just need you, Dante.”
“But—”
I pressed my lips to his, interrupting him from any further argument. As I curved my body into his, brushing against his growing erection, he groaned, any hint of his previous protest melting away. He palmed my back, the distance between us becoming non-existent. Intensifying the kiss, he breathed into me, giving me everything I’d dreamt about since I walked away from him at the airport in Rome. As the world seemed to disappear around us, I ran my hands through his thick hair. The instant his coarse locks hit my fingertips, I whimpered. I didn’t think I’d ever feel his hair in my hands again, his body against mine, his lips on mine. I didn’t want this moment to end. I didn’t want us to end.
I loved this man. I was a fool to leave him once. I thought I needed to be on my own to figure out who I was, ignoring the truth that had been glaring at me like the brightest star in the sky. I already knew who I was. A woman who would do anything for love. Who would fight LA traffic. Who would disregard the rules and park in a tow zone. Who would put her safety at risk and run in heels just to chase that unmatched high one feels when in love with another human.
Gone was the woman who always did what was expected of her, who never stood up for what she wanted, who always put everyone else before her. When I met Dante, that side of me died. I opened my mind and tried things I never thought I would. Dante had said he would show me who I was, who I was meant to be. I finally realized he had fulfilled his promise. I knew who I was. Maybe fate was waiting for me to finally figure it out.
I slowly pulled my lips away, smiling up at Dante, studying everything about him. The slight wrinkles around his eyes. The small vein in his forehead. The tanned skin. The little bit of gray hair visible in his short sideburns. The flecks of gold in his dark eyes.
“What is it?” he asked, licking his lips.
I opened my mouth slightly, completely overwhelmed, everything I’d been through the past several months washing over me — struggling to find a job, trying to figure out what my father was involved in, my mother’s obvious animosity toward me. But every tear, every moment of despair, every lonesome thought… It was all worth it. To be here, to be with this man, to feel something I didn’t think existed…to feel loved.
“You…” I shook my head, running my hand against his cheek. He melted into me, briefly closing his eyes. “I didn’t…” I trailed off, struggling to come up with the words I needed. I laughed slightly. “You’re the best part of me, Dante.”
“It’s about time you figured that out.” He touched his lips to mine, treating me to a tender, warm, affectionate kiss before slowly pulling back, gazing at me with the same mixture of ardor and hunger I’d come to expect from him, reminding me of his duplicitous nature and how much I craved it, needed it, yearned for it.
Before I knew what was happening, Dante swooped me into his arms.
“What
are you doing?” I shrieked, laughing as he carried me through the lobby. His smile was wide, carefree. Other hotel guests stared at us, some whispering under their breath about the scene we were making, but neither one of us cared. Dante always had an uncanny ability to make me forget about the world around us, to make me see only him. And from this moment forward, that was all I wanted. Just to see him. To never look away again.
“Three months is a very long time for a man to go without feeling your legs wrapped around him,” he whispered, his tone seductive as his teeth scraped my earlobe.
“Is that right?” I shot him a coy look.
“That’s right, Eleanor.”
When we approached the bank of elevators, he gingerly lowered me to my feet, his eyes filled with desire as he stalked toward me. My back hit the wall and he reached past me to press the call button, his proximity and the way he seemed to leer at me like a man who hadn’t seen a woman in months causing my heart rate to skyrocket. I feared the second he’d touch me, I’d shatter into a million pieces and never find them all to put myself back together again.
“Do you have any idea how much I’ve looked forward to this?” he murmured against my neck, his breath hot on my skin.
Goosebumps prickled my flesh, a shiver rolling through me. I knew if the wall wasn’t supporting me, my legs would have given out, his sensuality, his words, his essence turning me into putty.
“To feel you shake beneath me.” He pressed his body against mine, his erection prominent against my stomach. “To watch your expression as I drive harder and harder, pushing you to your breaking point.” He gripped my hair, tugging it, yanking my head back as he ran his mouth over the exposed flesh of my neck. “To hear your breathing grow more ragged and uneven as you struggle not to fall apart too soon.” His hand floated to my backside and he cupped my ass, causing me to yelp in surprise.