by T. K. Leigh
“I bet she made a killer gumbo.”
“Did she ever,” I shot back enthusiastically. “Everything she made was incredible. Whenever I make a roux now, I remember how she taught me.”
“What was your favorite food?” Dante asked, obviously intrigued. We’d never really spoken much about food. I figured it would feel too much like work to him.
“How can I pick just one?”
“There must be one thing that whenever you smell it, it makes your heart feel full, like it evokes memories of a happy time in your life.”
“Pasta Bolognese seems to come to mind.” I gave him a sly smile.
“Me, too,” he answered in a soft voice, then readjusted his expression. “But before yesterday, what food evoked a feeling inside you?”
“Popcorn,” I said without a moment’s hesitation. I’d dined at my fair share of five-star restaurants during my life. I’d been exposed to more gourmet meals than most people could imagine eating. I never felt anything when I was served beautiful presentations of food by white-gloved waitstaff. But every time I smelled popcorn, I felt a twinge of happiness.
“Popcorn?” He lifted a brow, popping another olive into his mouth. “I’m not so sure that counts as food. Why does it make you happy?”
“It reminds me of the one day I felt like I had a real family,” I admitted thoughtfully, looking straight ahead, my memories playing like a movie in my mind. “My parents took me to Disneyland. I think I was maybe seven or eight at the time. They’d never spent much time with me. While all my friends seemed to do all these fun activities with their parents, like going to the beach or the park, my weekends were typically spent at home with Gloria while my parents were away doing whatever politicians do. But that weekend…” I let out a contented sigh. “I thought maybe I would finally have a real childhood. We went on all the rides, and my parents actually smiled. They seemed to be having fun. And I can’t tell you how much popcorn I ate that day. I couldn’t get enough. I had popcorn before and have had more than my share of popcorn since, but nothing tasted as wonderful as the popcorn did on that day when I thought my parents actually loved me.”
I blinked back my tears, straightening my spine as I fought to shrug off the painful memories of my past. “But like everything else in their life, it was just a show, a way to remind voters that my father was a family man, that he was just like everyone else.” I met Dante’s eyes. His expression fell, sympathy covering his face. “I can barely remember what I had for breakfast a week ago, but I remember the popcorn I ate that day.”
He brought my hand to his mouth, kissing it. “I promise I’ll take you to Disneyland and you can have all the popcorn you want. And I assure you, it won’t be just for show.”
I settled into the crook of his arm, his lips lingering on the top of my head as I basked in his promise to me. As much as I knew I shouldn’t make plans for a future that wasn’t in the cards, it gave me a small slice of comfort. “I’d like that,” I replied, my voice unconvincing.
Chapter Fifteen
“I’ll never tire of this view,” a deep voice cut through my thoughts Sunday evening as I stood in the patio area behind Dante’s house, admiring the vineyards surrounding me. We’d spent the day relaxing by the pool with Beatrice and her sons, more and more of Dante’s family stopping by as the day wore on. It was wonderful to see them, but I was thankful it was now just us again, considering the number of hours we had left were limited.
“It is quite spectacular,” I answered.
Dante wrapped his arms around me and I melted into him, losing myself in the moment. “I was talking about you,” he murmured, feathering kisses along my neckline.
I sighed, reaching behind me to run my fingers through his hair. He grabbed my hand, peppering kisses down the inside of my arm, my skin warming under his touch. He spun me around, wrapping me in his tender embrace. He began to sway slowly, and I followed his lead. My gaze locked on his, neither one of us uttered a word. I simply allowed myself to savor the moment. I knew this was one of those times I would always look back upon fondly. Whenever I needed to feel I had worth, that I was capable of being loved, all I’d need to do was remember the time I danced with Dante underneath the Italian sky to the music in our hearts.
I drew in a shaky breath through the ache in my chest that had grown stronger with each passing hour. My time here was almost at an end. Tomorrow, we would make our way back to Rome for my final night in Italy. Despite his efforts to keep the hope alive, I think he’d finally realized nothing he said or did would stop me from getting on that plane. I didn’t exactly have much choice. From an immigration standpoint, I was here as a tourist, so I could only stay for ninety days anyway.
Even if that weren’t the case, I couldn’t ignore the long list of reasons why I needed to leave — to close the last chapter of my life, to learn to stand on my own two feet…my father. Despite wracking my brain to come up with reasons why I should stay, only one remained. Dante. Was that one reason enough? Did that one reason outweigh the dozens of reasons I should leave? A few days ago, I was confident it didn’t. But with each passing moment, my certainty had begun to wane.
Dante ran his fingers through my hair, supporting my head. Licking his lips, he slowly lowered his mouth toward mine. There was something different about this kiss. It wasn’t full of hunger or intensity. But it wasn’t soft and sweet, either. This kiss was full of something else entirely. Reverence. Veneration. Love?
I arched my body into his, deepening the exchange, our tongues tangling. Tugging him closer, I moaned, desperate to feel more of him. More of his touch. More of his kisses. More of his fire.
He pulled back. “Would you like to go for a walk?”
“I’d rather go to bed,” I responded playfully.
“We’ll get there. Don’t worry. I want to walk with you.” He stepped away from me, holding his hand out, just like he always did. “Come.”
Unable to deny him anything, I linked my fingers with his, enjoying the warmth of his skin on mine as he led me from the patio area and down the dirt path, winding through row after row of vines.
“What kind of grapes are these?” I asked, striking up a conversation.
“Sangiovese.”
“Is this where you make the wine we had at your restaurant?”
“It is. There’s a huge warehouse on the opposite side of the property where my winemakers work their magic. There’s a tasting room, too, but don’t worry. No one comes this far back, apart from some of the farmers to check on the grapes. But it’s Sunday. No one works on Sunday here. It’s a day to spend time with your family.”
I met his gaze, smiling sweetly before I looked forward once more. Inhaling deeply, the smell of grapes and clean air filled me with despair. A lump formed in my throat as I thought how this was the last time I’d breathe in this particular aroma.
I cleared my throat, cutting through the thick atmosphere. “So, when do you start shooting for your next season?”
“I was supposed to be heading to South Africa at the end of the month. From there, about twenty other locations…”
“But?” I lifted a brow, sensing there was more.
“But some things are more important. Yes, I travel a lot and am constantly on the go, but whenever my family needs me, I will not hesitate to drop everything to be with them, even if it means taking a huge hit to my production budget.” He swallowed hard, his expression becoming despondent. “The truth is, I should still be shooting right now. I’d been filming in Mexico, but it was more important I be here.”
“Why?” I pushed, my curiosity getting the better of me.
He paused, his eyes raking over me, then he turned his gaze forward. “My mother’s sick,” he stated in a quiet voice. “She has been for a while.” He looked at me. “Breast cancer.”
“Oh, Dante.” I closed my eyes, shaking my head, wondering how much pain one man could possibly endure. Not only did he have to suffer through the one thing no parent shou
ld ever have to, but now his mother was fighting a form of the same disease.
“That’s where I was when I told you I had business meetings in Rome. I was meeting her and my uncle Massimo at her doctor appointments. I needed to hear her prognosis for myself.”
“I had no idea. She didn’t appear to be sick the other night.”
“That’s Gabriella Luciano for you,” he stated, a twinkle in his eyes. “She’s always been an incredibly strong woman. If she’d had a particularly bad day at work, she never let it show. She’ll always put on a smile and act as if she’s not at the end of her time.”
“Is she at the end of her time?”
Dante ran a hand through his hair, lowering his head. “She’s been fighting this for years now. She’s gone into remission more times than she cares to admit only to have the cancer return. Last time, she said if it comes back, she’s not going to fight it anymore. She’d rather live her final days happy, surrounded by the people who love her, than pumping her body full of chemicals, barely able to keep any food down.”
“How much…”
“Doctors say maybe three months. It’s spread to her brain.” He drew in a shaky breath, then offered me a sad smile. “But who knows? She may just prove them all wrong.”
I grabbed his hand in mine, squeezing. “I hope so.”
“Me, too.”
We continued walking through the vineyards in silence. I wanted to imprint everything about it to memory. This place. This time. This feeling. I never wanted to forget it. I wished I could bottle it all up and bring it home with me so I could have it to cheer me up when I needed to feel something other than what I’d grown accustomed to.
When we came to a small hill, he pulled me toward it, helping me climb up. Cresting the top, I turned around, gazing over Dante’s property as we stood beneath the shade of a tree that was probably older than the Declaration of Independence.
His house sat in the distance toward the left. At the far right was a large warehouse attached to a brick building covered in ivy, which I assumed was the tasting room and where they made the wine. In between the two were acres upon acres of vines stretching as far as the eye could see. I’d never really put much faith in religion or any sort of higher power. But at that moment, gazing at the majesty before me, I couldn’t help but thank God, if he or she did exist, for creating something so magnificent.
“Would you like to sit?” he asked. “The sun will be setting in about thirty minutes. The view from this hill is amazing. It’s one of the reasons I decided to buy this particular piece of property.”
I nodded slightly, following him to a shady area beneath the tree, sitting beside him on the warm grass. I pulled my legs into my chest. A comfortable silence settled between us as we looked to the horizon, the sky turning a beautiful orange hue in preparation for the sun to disappear from view. A breeze blew around me, my hair falling in front of my face. I smoothed it behind my ear.
“Gloria had cancer, too,” I admitted after some time had passed. “She was there one day, gone the next. When I asked my mother what happened, all she told me was she didn’t work for us anymore. I was sixteen and had my own car, so I found out where she lived and went to see her, which was when I learned she had lung cancer. I made sure to visit her every day after school for nearly a year. One day, she wasn’t there anymore.” I wiped at the tear trickling down my cheek. I’d never allowed myself to mourn her death when I was younger. I was more angry at her than saddened over her passing. She was the only parental figure in my life and I hated her for leaving me.
Dante pulled me close, rubbing my back, remaining silent.
“She had three kids of her own, yet I never heard her complain once that she spent more time raising me. She had a beautiful soul. I guess that was why I always had trouble believing in fate or the idea of some higher power pulling the strings. I couldn’t understand why anyone would want to take such a wonderful person so soon.” I peered at him through inquisitive eyes. “How could you possibly still believe in it after everything?”
“Like I told you the other night, it’s the only thing that keeps the hope alive, Eleanor. It’s the only thing that keeps me from breaking down every time I see kids around the age Lilly would have been. I must believe fate and karma are working together. I must trust the people responsible for Lilly’s death will pay for what they’ve done. And I have to trust that fate knows what it’s doing.” He clutched my cheeks in his hands. “If I never got that phone call that my mother’s cancer had returned and jumped on the first flight home, I never would have been sitting across the aisle from you. I love my mother with all my heart. And my daughter… Not one second of the day goes by where I don’t think about her, about what she’d be doing if she were still here.” He pulled my head closer to his. “But everything that’s happened in my life has led me to this point. What I feel for you…” He licked his lips, drawing in a deep breath.
I swallowed hard, the power and fervor in his eyes, in his voice, in his body making my mouth dry. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. I wasn’t supposed to meet someone now. Not when I didn’t even know who I was. And he wasn’t supposed to fall for me after just a few days. Love needed time to bloom, to grow. It didn’t simply happen overnight. But there was no mistaking the affection behind Dante’s eyes.
“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.” His lips feathered against mine. I pulled him toward me, holding onto him with everything I had. His mouth moving tenderly with mine, he gingerly lowered my back to the ground, hovering over me, running his fingers down the contours of my frame as he kissed me like it was the last time. Every inch of my body ignited with a riotous need. Dante’s touch always seemed to have a unique effect on me, but this… This was different. I was different.
“Why me?” I asked with a tremble in my voice as I stared at the affection in his gaze, just like I had on our first night together. But now that I knew exactly who he was, it didn’t make any sense. This man could have any woman he wanted.
“Why not you?”
“Because I told you I couldn’t give you my heart.”
He trailed kisses up my neck, nibbling on my earlobe, his breath warming my skin. “That doesn’t mean I won’t give you mine, Eleanor. You deserve to know you’re loved, even if you don’t return that love.”
I closed my eyes, fighting back my tears. Most women would be over the moon to hear a man as handsome, passionate, and benevolent as Dante declare his love to them. If this were a different time, a different place, I would have been thrilled, too. But now… His admission only made my heart break even more. Because as much as I’d done everything to remain guarded, to be able to walk away with my heart intact, Dante had blasted through those walls. He’d done the one thing I didn’t think anyone could. He’d shown me how to fly.
“You’ve captured my heart,” he continued, kissing my jawline, my neck, my chest. “Don’t ask me how or why because I am just as confused by this as you are.” He returned his eyes to mine. “But I can’t ignore these feelings. Not anymore. The moment I saw you, my heart felt something it hadn’t in years. Even if you walk away, I’ll forever be grateful to you for making me feel again.”
When he lowered his lips to mine, I wrapped my arms around him, kissing him fully. I hooked my leg over his waist, running my hands through his hair, desperate to feel him everywhere, to have him possess me, to have him consume me — my mind, my body, my heart.
“Eleanor,” he began, pulling away. He stared at me, his expression intense, focused…loving.
My chest rose and fell in a quicker rhythm, my heart pounding in my chest. I knew what he was about to say. I just didn’t want to hear those words. Not because I didn’t want his love. I did. I wanted it, needed it, craved it. I was just petrified to admit I felt the same.
“Please, don’t,” I begged. “It’s too hard otherwise.”
He kissed the tear that fell. “It doesn’t have to be. What’s it going to take for you to realize
that?”
I peered at him through sad eyes. “More than just three words.”
“It’s not just three words to me,” he said. “It’s everything. You’re everything.”
He pressed his lips to mine briefly before leaning back. Lifting the hem of my sundress, he silently asked for permission. I nodded. He raised the dress over my head, a burning desire filling his eyes as he gazed upon my exposed chest.
Slowly, he brought his mouth to my breast, an unmatched yearning flowing through my veins. I tugged him closer, losing myself in the sensations overcoming me. I’d lost count of the number of times Dante and I had been intimate over the past week. But this… This was different. This was so much more than just foreplay or sex for him…and for me.
“I’m scared,” I murmured.
He pulled back. “Of what?”
“Of you. Of what I feel for you. Of forgetting you. Of forgetting this.”
“Oh, Eleanor.” He pressed his lips to mine, kissing me sweetly. “You will always have my heart. And my love. No matter if you get on that plane, my love won’t stop.”
With a light touch, he slid my panties down my legs, pulling back to shrug out of his t-shirt and shorts. Returning to me, his mouth captured mine. “Say you want me.”
“I want you.”
“Say you need me.” His demanding voice turned almost pleading, as if he couldn’t go on if he didn’t have my reassurance.
Swallowing hard, I said, “I need you.”
His muscles relaxed as relief seemed to wash over him. “I need you, too,” he admitted, settling between my legs. Brushing my hair out of my eyes, he added, “Like lungs need oxygen. Like the desert needs the rain. Like a sparrow needs wings.”
He pushed into me, and I released a noiseless gasp, overwhelmed by his words, his body, his devotion. His motions were slow, measured, deliberate. He didn’t even need to say the words. I knew everything he was feeling with the way he worshiped me, the way he held me…the way he made love to me.
