Bellissimo Lotta (Beautiful Struggle): Companion Novel to Bellissimo Fortuna (The Family Trilogy Book 2)

by Lunsford, Leigh Ann

  I grew up with these people and saw them last night, minus Dakota, so we take our places, not having to bother with introductions. She and Callie jump into conversation. I place my arm across the back of her chair, staring at Dakota while I do it. I’m making a statement. Dick move, maybe, but it’s the only one I have at this moment. I don’t have their history, I don’t have the years they shared, but I’m making it known I want her future.

  He looks into my eyes, nods, making his own statement. I watch his face soften as Bianca laughs at something Callie did and the love he feels for her washes over his face. Fuck. I wonder if I’m doing the right thing pursuing her, thinking I should step back. He’s not playing with her heart. He didn’t handle it correctly the first time, but he’d cherish her. She loves him still. I’m not sure their relationship is able to stand the test of time or if she can get over what he did, but they have a story. I’ve got to decide if I’m willing to endure the pain that may come or bow out and let them find their way back to each other.

  Bianca looks over her shoulder and smiles at me, grabs Angelo from Bronson, and my decision is made. Seeing her cuddling him, the joy evident on her face, love shining from the deepest part of her . . . that’s the look I want to see staring back at me every day. I want my son or daughter nestled up to her. It’s not about what I want as much as what she needs, and that’s what I’ll figure out and give it to her.

  Our meal is served and talk ceases. The tension evident, the eyes darting between Dakota and myself and settling on Bianca. I notice her pushing her food from one side to the other, so I lean over. “Eat, gorgeous. Remember what your part is tonight. Do that for me, okay?” I see Dakota slam back the rest of his beer, and while I wish I could do that to ease the unsettling feelings swirling inside me, I don’t. I focus on letting her enjoy tonight and ignore him.

  “Okay. This is weird,” she whispers to me.

  “It’ll get easier.” I stop myself from kissing her lips, not wanting to be a complete asshole. If the time comes to let him know, I won’t hesitate. I lean back from her and eat like nothing is wrong, when in truth the food tastes like sawdust in my mouth, settling like bricks in my stomach.

  Dessert is placed in front of us, and Bronson drops to his knee, which causes Gianna to burst into tears, Angelo to follow suit, Bianca to laugh, and Bronson to growl in frustration. Bianca reaches over to take Angelo from Callie who is stupefied and staring at Bronson like he hung the fucking moon. Dakota follows Bianca’s every move, and I roll my head trying to ease the tension and distracting me from knocking his ass out.

  “Callie, will you marry me?”

  “Weak!” Bianca yells, and I chuckle at her. She leans her head back resting it against my shoulder, and a glass slams down. Luckily, Bronson and Callie are too caught up in their moment, so Dakota’s move went unnoticed by them. Bianca’s head jerks up, her spine rigid, and the anxiety rolling off her.

  I squeeze her shoulder letting her know I’m with her. Congratulations are offered. Tears and hugs are flowing. Callie and Bronson leave, with Bronson grabbing Angelo and dragging his family home.

  “Be safe. Another child out of wedlock will be frowned upon in the church!” Bianca hollers.

  “Figlia!” Gianna admonishes her with a grin ghosting her lips. She isn’t serious but has to play the part.

  “Oh whatever.” Bianca rolls her eyes causing her mom to giggle. This is her. The full of life, smart-ass, heart bigger than anyone else’s . . . this is who I want. “We’ll take Mom home, and it looks like your stuck with me tonight because I’m not walking all up in that celebration commencing at their apartment.” Before I can readily agree, Dakota speaks up.

  “My bed always has a place for you.” Bianca closes her eyes, trying to tamp down her temper and lick her wounds from those words.

  “Take your mom to the car, I’ll handle this,” I tell her. She stands and so does he. I quickly place myself in front of her and pray I don’t do something I’ll regret with her mom as a witness.

  “A minute, Bianca?” he asks her. I defer to her. As much as I want to refuse, this has to be her call.

  “Dakota, it’s late. You’ve been drinking, we can do this tomorrow.”

  “Please,” his voice croaks and fuck it all I feel sorry for him.

  I lean over. “It’s up to you, gorgeous. I’ll let you talk and take your mom to the car.”

  “I want to avoid a scene, so that’s best,” she tells me, not meeting my eyes. I know partly she’s lying; some part of her wants to know what he has to say. That stings, but I’ll deal. He can make his play tonight. I’ll give him that. He can have his fifteen minutes because I’ll have her all night. I nod at her, meet his eyes, and drop my mouth to hers. That needed to be addressed before she’s alone with him.

  I turn and hold my arm out for Gianna and lead her to the car. “Patience, Heath. Something you inherited from your dad and something invaluable when it comes to my daughter.” I smile at her. At least I have an ally.

  I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.

  ~Maya Angelou

  Chapter 24

  Dakota

  Torture. My chest feels like a brutal war is being waged inside. I can’t stand to watch Bianca with him. Her smiles, her brief touches, the way she leans into him with ease . . . those were once mine. As her head hits his shoulder in comfort, I snap. I slam the bottle down, my hands clench into fists, and I want to scream. Shout to everyone at this goddamned table that this isn’t right. It isn’t what our future was supposed to be. I’m fixated on her, watching her stiffen from my reaction.

  Toxins. That’s what I wove into our love. I became a poison coursing through something so pure. As much as I know I caused this, it doesn’t relieve the conflict swarming through me. I promised her time, but that time was for her to realize what I already knew . . . she belonged with me.

  Repent. I’ll drop to my knees in front of her, in front of everyone, and beg for her exoneration. I’ll delete every harrowing mistake I made from her mind. Her heart. I’ll replace them with bliss and happiness. I know I can do it; I just need her to believe in me.

  After pleading for a minute of her time, she grants it to me. With much unease, but it’s a start.

  “Bianca, don’t do this.”

  “Do what, Dakota? Enjoy my brother and best friend reconciling? Or enjoy someone who isn’t you?”

  I force myself to look in her eyes, and I want to explain it all . . . again. No excuses, just lay the facts out and make her see I was someone else that day. I wasn’t the man she loved whole-heartedly in that moment. She knows it. My lungs feel like they are seizing, and as much as my body is screaming at me to run, I force myself to stay and make her listen. Cocking my chin up, “I want it to be me. It should be me. We’ve been through hell, but we’ve also been to heaven. I gave you so many firsts, and I know you still love me. Don’t let us slip away. Don’t take your love from me, please. I need you. I want you. I’ll give you everything that I am.”

  She’s not unaffected. Her tears threaten to spill over, and her hands shake as she covers her mouth. “Dakota,” she whimpers. “You gave me so much, and I’m remembering that. But with those memories the ugly parts slip in, the cruelness in which you set out to hurt me. You can’t just wipe that part clean. You can’t ask me to forget it. You not only shattered my heart but my trust. I don’t know what to tell you.”

  “Tell me you aren’t spending the night with him. Tell me you still think of me. Tell me I still have a chance.”

  Her head shakes back and forth. Reaching her trembling hand out to place on my arm, she snatches it back at the last second. I watch as she bites down on her lip, and the tears course down her face, dripping from her chin onto her shirt. “I can’t. I can’t tell you any of that because I don’t know.” Her voice breaks, a wail escapes her throat, and I grab her, pull her close.

  “Tell m
e how to stop it. I can’t stand to see you like this.” Her tears soak my clothes and her body vibrating mine with her sobs. Love isn’t logical. Rules are tossed aside and when you add in the jealousy running through me, I’m willing to do anything to make it stop for both of us. I tore everything apart and making her relive my monumental mistake constantly is breaking her further. I drop my head and my lips find her shoulder of their own accord. Her skin is smooth against my lips, her scent engulfing me, and I pray she doesn’t ask the one thing I can’t do. I can’t let her go. I’d rip every one of my limbs off, tear the heart out of my chest to take this agony from her. The only thing that’s worse is knowing I did it. I put this inside of her.

  She pushes back from me, turns, and flees the restaurant. To his waiting arms, I’m sure. My arms are empty and my heart desolate. I need help and don’t know where to turn to get it. I just know I can’t see another motherfucker’s hands on her. It makes me feel crazy, my limbs like dumbbells and my mind racing irrationally. The bar is calling my name, and a resolution to this mess needs to come. It’s not healthy for either one of us.

  Each swig of the amber liquid I take burns. All the way down to the pit of my stomach, where regret swirls as I stroll down memory lane. The first time I met her at the gym. Her incessant flirting, running hot and cold with me. Drawing me in then pushing me away. I stood fearlessly beside her, knowing she’d crumble and reach for what was in front of her. Me. My love. I remember seeing her come undone underneath me the first time. The first time she told me the words I craved. Her arms around me, her eyes holding me captive. It’s always been her.

  Every time she wavered I stayed steadfast in my pursuit.

  As the tears ran down her face, I wiped them away. “No regrets,” I whisper to her. I knew what she needed to hear. “He wouldn’t want you beating yourself up. He’d hold you if he was here and tell you how much he loves you. Feel that, Bianca. Feel his love.” She cried harder, afraid she’d never feel her father’s love again. No regrets . . . the motto he instilled in her, and the sentiment I’m full of when it comes to her.

  She ran and I waited. The reward of having her love was worth every battle. “Come back to me.” I stare into her gorgeous eyes, pleading for her to relent this time. She tries to hide, but I’m pushing her this time. Her brown eyes tell me what I know. I just want her voice to speak it. She blinks, crushing my hopes, destroying my dreams. “Damn,” I mutter. “One day, Bianca. One fucking day you will say it.”

  I fucked up but so many times I didn’t. The memories keep slamming into me like a jackhammer. Hard. Stabbing. Bone jarring. So many times it was me patiently biding my time, as she heaped abuse on my heart, I still waited and loved her. “Nobody has to get hurt. I love you. This works. We work.” My pleading sounds frantic, but I’m desperate for her to acknowledge the love between us. After arguing and proving my point time and time again, she utters the words that weave into my soul. Mending me. Holding me together.

  “I love you. I love us. I want this.” When I took her mouth that night, I claimed every ounce of her soul, giving her mine in return.

  I have to make her see the times I didn’t punish her, that I didn’t hurt her. Ironic that after so many years, so many celebrations, we are back to where we started; she is running and I am waiting. I know my salvation will be when she’s standing in front of me, promising me forever.

  I sway up to the door and pound. I’m starting fresh, and I don’t care that it’s the wee hours of the morning. I need to purge my soul. I need his help. The lights are off, so I bang louder . . . longer.

  The door swings open, and I fall in. “What the fuck?” Bronson’s standing above me, glancing down with a frown marring his face.

  “Sorry,” I manage to slur, even though I’m not apologetic at all.

  “Don’t be sorry, tell me why you are drunker than hell and banging on my door. I have a kid, man.” His tone is low and seething as he glances down the hallway. Yes, I know he has the woman he loves and a kid down the hall. I was there picking up the pieces not so long ago when he was destroying his life.

  “I know, I just never thought I’d hear those words after Callie left. Damn, you are one lucky son of a bitch.” I remind him of his screw-ups because I’m going to need his forgiveness.

  “What are you rambling on about?”

  “How’d you do it? How’d you make her love you after you fucked up?” He can give me the holy grail of answers.

  “What did you do?” His sigh lets me know he has resigned himself to listening to me.

  “Nothing . . . recently.” I look down to the floor as I’m struggling to tell him the truth.

  “Are we talking about my sister?” He tenses up, his shoulders rising, and his voice tight.

  “Yep.”

  “Am I going to hit you?”

  “Probably.” Wouldn’t be the first time over her. I’ll take a million hits if needed.

  “Not tonight. I’m gonna make sure you feel it, and you’re too drunk for pain to register. Now, tell me.” He steps into my space, and my confidence plummets. This was stupid. I lost the girl, and I risk losing my best friend with this.

  “See, I asked her to be my girl. Finally, after all the dicking around.”

  “That’s not so bad.” His posture relaxes. I take a deep breath.

  “Then I fucked her roommate within the hour.” I never saw him move, but the explosion of pain radiating down my cheek into my jaw lets me know he lied. My ass hitting the floor jars my teeth into each other. Fuck, that hurts.

  “Stop!” Callie shrieks and Angelo starts crying from his room. “You,” she points to Bronson, “go get your son. You,” this time I’m the object of her demand, “sit your ass down, and I’ll get you ice. This couldn’t have waited until tomorrow?” She is looking between both of us.

  “I told him I broke his sister’s heart.”

  “Shit, Dakota. You have no sense.”

  “You knew?” His incredulous tone aimed at Callie.

  “We’ll worry about that later. Now, go.” Angelo is getting louder and isn’t happy being ignored.

  “Damn straight.”

  “Shut it, Bronson. You don’t know everything.”

  “I’m not sure I want to.” He walks down the hall.

  “Well that went better than I thought.” I laugh.

  “Really?” Callie snaps. “You’re sitting here with one hell of a bruise on your cheek, blood seeping from your mouth.”

  “I’m still sitting here. That’s a good thing.” A few minutes later an ice pack is shoved on my face, the room stops spinning, and Bronson is sitting across from me, eyes stormy, and the only thing saving me is Callie making him hold Angelo.

  “Why are you still here?”

  “Bronson, you need to hear him out.” Callie walks beside him and rubs his back. I see him visibly relax, his eyes don’t hold murder in them, and he exhales.

  “Go ahead and make it good.” This shit is so good I can barely wrap my head around it . . . still.

  I get to the point in my story when I found out my sister is really my mother. “Fuck,” his eyes close, and when he opens them they are crystal-clear with understanding.

  “It’s not over,” I tell him. The worst is yet to come. When the time comes that he learns his dad’s organization ordered the hit, he stands and gives Angelo to Callie.

  “I need a minute.” I nod in understanding. It’s a lot to take in.

  “Hate to beat a dead horse, but had you done this with Bianca, you’d be in a different situation right now.” Callie isn’t trying to be a bitch; she’s just stating the obvious.

  “I know. I’ve replayed that night in my head a million times. Every single time it ends with Bianca comforting me, us working the catastrophe out, and me never fucking someone else.”

  “I know, Dakota.” Bronson walks back in the room and sits down.

  “How does this end with you fucking someone else?” His voice has lost some of the harshness, bu
t I know his loyalty and love is with Bianca. It should be.

  “Drinking. My head spinning out of control. Punishment.”

  “Punishment for my sister?” He rubs his hands over his face trying to get inside my brain.

  “That part doesn’t matter.”

  “The hell it doesn’t. What the fuck did you have to punish her for?”

  “Her last name. Your last name. That’s all I could see, man.” I’m breathing heavily, reliving all the sensations from that night. “It doesn’t make sense now, but at the time it’s the only thing that made sense. For years, I got to sit back and wasn’t involved in the shit that swirled around y’all, and I was grateful. One fucking piece of paper shredded that. Shredded everything I had known. I talked her into forgiving your dad for his life choices. You didn’t know that, did you? You had no clue the internal struggle she was going through trying to wrap her head around how he could be a killer, a criminal, yet a terrific dad. Out of respect for him, and her, I ended things with her so she’d never have to choose between us. Then I see his name linked to the death of the other person I loved with my entire heart. Dana. I lost it. I didn’t think; I just reacted. I went to her dorm. She wasn’t there. I fucked Anna. Bianca walked in, and I never stopped. She ran. She didn’t stay and fight. Jesus, I don’t know what I expected.”

  “Dakota, calm down.” Callie rushes towards me. I’m standing and making my way to the door to flee. I can’t believe I came here expecting empathy. He can hate me as much as he wants, I’ll always hate myself more. The indignity I live with is crippling, and I’m losing everything and everyone because of it.

  “Stop!” his voice booms. “I don’t know if I want to hit you again or not. Just sit down and give me a minute.” He could hit me everyday; I’d deserve it.

  Callie brings me a glass of water. “Why now, Dakota? Why come and tell him tonight?”

  “She leaned her head against him while watching you and Bronson get engaged. She shared that with him. He looks at her like I did when I was falling in love with her. She gave him a smile, one I hadn’t seen from her in ages. I’m losing her for good, and I don’t know what to do.”