by T. K. Leigh
His laughter only increased, the deep vibration causing a feeling of absolutely joy to wash over me. “So what happened between you two?” I pressed.
His ears turned red, my chest warming at his reaction. I loved this side of him — this carefree, relaxed version of the man who, just the other night, had me blindfolded and bound.
“We had talked here and there. At some point, that progressed into getting together before mass most Sundays, since the rest of the day was for family. I think our parents figured out something was going on because they caught us red-handed only a few weeks later.”
“Doing what?”
“Kissing in the confessional. It was my first kiss with tongue.”
I broke out laughing, picturing a stunned Dante as he got caught kissing the object of his adolescent affection in a church confessional.
“I have to admit,” he continued, “I didn’t see what the big deal was. After the priest made both of us say way too many Hail Mary’s and the Lord’s Prayer as penance for our sins, particularly sins committed in a house of God, I never wanted to kiss another girl for the rest of my life. I thought it was sloppy and wet.”
Still laughing, I hooked his fingers with mine. “I’m glad you changed your mind.”
“So am I.” He raised my hand to his lips, brushing the barest hint of a kiss across my knuckles. A fluttering erupted in my stomach, warmth coursing through my veins. All I could think was how barren the world would seem without this man’s kisses to fill me with hope, with promise, with happiness.
Within a few minutes, Dante pulled up in front of an old theater I’d been to on more than one occasion. I didn’t even realize it was still in business. Several years ago, I stumbled on it after a meeting with a client. I’d just moved in with Brock and had a taste of how difficult he was to live with. The last thing I wanted to do was go home. When I saw the marquis announcing they were showing An Affair to Remember, I pulled off the road, parked my car, and spent the next few hours losing myself in a love story for the ages.
For months, I made it a habit to stop by to see whatever classic movie they were showing that night, movies Brock refused to watch because they were in black and white, or there was too much singing, or there weren’t any special effects. Movies like Casablanca, The Apartment, To Have and Have Not. Movies that always seemed to instill hope, however fleeting, that there was such a thing as love.
“What are we doing here?” I asked when Dante killed the ignition. “I think this place closed a year ago.”
“It did,” he said very matter-of-factly before stepping onto the street and hurrying around to my side to open the door.
I raised myself from the car, staring at him. “Then what—”
“It’s amazing what a few phone calls to the right people can do.” He winked, then hooked my hand in his arm, leading me toward the front doors. I noticed a movie poster in the “now showing” display case — Roman Holiday. I inhaled a sharp breath as I turned to peer at Dante, who met my inquisitive eyes with a simple shrug. “I figured it would be fitting, considering our story. How you escaped to Rome to shrug off your responsibilities for a little while.”
“Yes, but you didn’t find me passed out on a bench, like Joe found Princess Ann.”
“Our story may not follow Princess Ann and Joe Bradley’s exactly, but the parallels are a bit striking, particularly the bit about Joe realizing who she was and only spending the day with her for a story for his newspaper…until he fell.”
“Except she walked away from him and returned to her duty.”
“As did you, yet here we are.” He turned to face me, stopping in front of the glass doors leading to the theater’s lobby.
“Here we are,” I murmured, gazing into his dark eyes. “I always liked to think they found each other again, that Princess Ann would give it all up.”
He lowered his head toward me, barely any distance between us. “I’d like to think she wouldn’t have to give it all up for Joe. That they could work it out. That the obstacles they believed threatened them were insignificant in comparison to the one important thing.”
“And what’s that?”
A smile lit up his face. “Love. What else?”
“What else indeed.” I lifted my lips toward Dante’s, his mouth meeting mine. It was a simple kiss, soft, light, tender, but it made my heart leap in ways I didn’t think possible.
Even when I no longer felt the warmth of his breath so close to mine, I kept my eyes closed, basking in the glow of his perfect kiss. It wasn’t until Dante spoke that I finally opened them again. “Come. I have even more surprises inside.”
“More?” I lifted a brow, smirking playfully.
“Yes. More.” He opened the lobby door and allowed me to walk in front of him.
The place looked exactly as I remembered. Deep red carpeting, brass accents, glass chandelier hanging overhead. It was like going back in history to a time when people went to the movies to experience something. To laugh, cry, and scream with other people. To appreciate the hours upon hours it took to create this work of art. These days, people were only interested in bigger, louder, faster. They didn’t care about the talent involved, as long as they could have it now.
An elderly man in a dark tuxedo stepped out from the doors leading into the theater. A smile instantly lit up his face when he noticed us. “Welcome. Ms. Crenshaw.” He nodded at me, then at my date. “Mr. Luciano. We’re ready whenever you are.”
“Certainly.” Dante led me toward the theater, stopping by the concession stand. “Would you like some popcorn?”
I looked at the counter, the display shelves barren, no popcorn to be found. “I don’t think they have any, Dante.”
“Oh really?” He gestured just past it. I followed his line of sight, my eyes widening when I saw a popcorn cart set up. But that wasn’t what shocked me. It was all those familiar mouse ears lining the window showcasing the freshly popped kernels. I whipped my head back toward his, a dozen questions plastered on my face.
“This one was a little bit more difficult, but I was finally able to get someone with authority to agree to my crazy idea, even on such short notice.”
“Is that…” I covered my mouth to hide my quivering chin, unable to speak through the thickness in my throat.
He swiped at the tear falling down my cheek. “I remember the story you told about your parents taking you to Disneyland, how you love the taste of popcorn because it reminds you of the one day you thought you had a family.” He grabbed my hand in his, looking at me with more sincerity than anyone ever had. “I needed to do something to make you have a happier memory, Eleanor. You said your favorite food was popcorn, but it only evokes a painful memory for you. I don’t want that to be the case anymore. I want to replace that memory with something happier, a reminder that you do have a family. You have me.”
Overwhelmed with an emotion that was so much more than love, I flung my arms around his neck, hugging him tightly, not wanting to ever let go of him, of this, of what we had.
“Thank you,” I finally managed to say, although it seemed incredibly inadequate for the gift he’d given me. “Thank you so much, Dante.”
“I love you, Eleanor. I’ll do anything for you.” He peered down at me as I loosened my hold. “Now, can I interest you in some popcorn?”
“Definitely.”
Minutes later, my head resting on Dante’s shoulder, a strange sense of homecoming washed over me as I watched the opening title of Roman Holiday. This moment made all of the worry, heartache, and despair of the past several months worth it — a belly full of popcorn, the love of a beautiful man, and a new memory. A memory I would cherish for years to come. A memory I would return to during my darkest of times when I needed to remind myself there was good in the world, there was hope in the world, there was love in the world.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I STRUGGLED TO REEL in my smile as I held Dante’s hand, walking up the pathway from the parking lot of my co
mplex toward my building. Tonight was exactly what I wanted, what I needed. After the movie, we grabbed a quick bite to eat at one of his favorite Mexican restaurants, then drove up to Griffith Observatory, where we simply marveled at the excitement, hope, and dreams that made up the city of Los Angeles. We even danced under the stars to no music at all. It was the perfect end to the evening.
Dante far exceeded every single one of my notions of what a first date should be like. I’d only expected dinner. Never did I anticipate being completely swept off my feet, of him putting so much thought into the evening. He’d set the bar ridiculously high. I doubted anyone else would ever be able to treat me to a first date as perfect as this one, but that didn’t matter. As I stole a glimpse of Dante and admired his silhouette, I knew this would be the last first date I’d ever go on.
We approached my apartment and he turned to peer down at me, his eyes filled with adoration. I sighed, butterflies flitting in my stomach. It was like we’d never kissed, never had sex. The anticipation of his next kiss made my insides coil and tighten.
“I had a wonderful time tonight, Dante,” I said, wrapping my arms around his neck as he brought my body closer to his.
“As did I. In the history of first dates, this will always be my favorite.” He gradually inched his mouth toward mine, the warmth of his breath causing the muscles in my core to clench.
All evening, I’d only been treated to an occasional, simple kiss, nothing deep, passionate, or all-consuming. That was what I needed at this moment. A kiss that swallowed me whole, that broke me into pieces, that consumed my soul.
When I couldn’t take the buildup any longer, I grabbed the back of his neck and forced his mouth within a whisper of mine, the proximity of his lips tickling my skin. “Kiss me, Dante,” I pleaded.
“With pleasure, Eleanor.” Instantly, his lips were on mine, his hand on my back pressing me tighter against him as his tongue caressed my mouth, begging for permission to enter. I opened for him with a moan, his tongue tangling with mine. We’d kissed thousands of times, but this one was much more charged, more electrifying, more intense. It didn’t matter how many more of Dante’s kisses I’d be the lucky recipient of. I’d always remember this kiss…the kiss Dante treated me to when he kissed me goodnight after our first date. I always dreamed what a goodnight kiss would feel like, what it would do to me. I imagined it would be the perfect mix of tender and passionate, of respectful and erotic, of sensual and desperate. This kiss was all those things…and more.
Dante slowly pulled back, his intense eyes unwavering as he kept his gaze trained on me. With each second we spent together, all my concerns regarding what the future held for us slowly disappeared little by little. Maybe I was making a bigger deal of the situation than was necessary. At the end of the day, the only thing that should matter was Dante’s love for me, and mine for him. If our love was strong enough, wouldn’t it weather any storm the universe threw at us?
“Come inside?” I looked up at him with pleading eyes.
Dante subtly shook his head. “Not tonight.”
“But—”
He pressed a finger against my mouth, hushing me. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I do. So bad, Eleanor. But I don’t want you to think I only want to spend time with you just to get you into bed. I love you. You. Not your body. Not the look on your face when you’re close to falling over the edge.” He gripped my body tighter, his eyes growing darker, more heated, more carnal. He lowered his voice, his lips gently brushing against my neck. “Not the tears running down your face when you’re on your knees and you take every last inch of me into your mouth.” He abruptly pulled back, his jaw tight and muscles clenched as he took heavy breaths, struggling to reel in his need. “I just love you. I know it’s a difficult concept for you to grasp, especially after everything your parents have put you through, but it’s my mission to prove to you that you are so loved, that you’re deserving of that love.”
“Is this about what you overheard my mother say?” I asked in a small voice.
“It’s about everything. Yes, I want you to see that your mother’s spiteful words have no bearing, that they hold absolutely no truth. More importantly, I want to give you everything you’ve never had. You’ve never had a real first date.”
“And you’ve given that to me,” I protested.
“I also want to give you that excitement of when we’ll see each other again. I want your stomach to flutter when I walk into your work unannounced. When I send you flowers just to put a smile on your face. When you arrive home after a long day to see I’ve already prepared dinner for you. Those are all things you do when you’re in a relationship. I’ve never done any of them, but I want to do them for you. Like I said earlier, I’ve taken you for granted. I won’t do that anymore. So, as much as I want to, I’m not going to come inside. Just like I wanted our first date to be special, I want the next time we make love to be special.” He ran his hand along my face, pushing a few waves of hair behind my ears. “I want to know I have all of you, your body, your heart…and your future.”
Seeing the passion in his expression, I could only answer one way. “Yes, Dante.”
A slow smile grew on his lips and he leaned down, kissing my nose before stepping back and releasing me from his hold. He grabbed my hand in his and placed a gentle kiss on the knuckles.
“I’ll be thinking of you all night.”
“When will I see you again?”
“Soon,” he said with a smirk, turning from me.
“You’re really going to leave and not tell me?”
“This is all part of dating. But know this… I am more addicted to you than any drug. I won’t be able to stay away for long.” He winked, then continued walking toward the parking lot. “Buonanotte, amore mio.”
“Buonanotte, amore mio,” I repeated before calling out to him once more. “Dante?”
He glanced over his shoulder.
“If you wanted to take things slow, why did you tell me not to wear any underwear?”
A salacious smile lit up his face, his eyes sparkling. “I just wanted to see if you’d do it.” His grin widened, then he added, “Ti amo.”
“Ti amo, Dante,” I murmured with a sigh, watching him disappear from view. When I heard the roar of his engine, I stepped into my lonely apartment, blown away by all the flowers that now covered nearly every available surface…one flower for every day I’d known Dante, just as he promised.
As I got ready for bed, part of me hoped he’d knock on my door at any minute. But no knock ever came. And for some reason, as I crawled under the covers and snuggled against the pillows, pretending they were Dante, I was more satisfied and sated than if he had been beside me.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE NEXT FEW WEEKS seemed to fly by as I found myself completely preoccupied with all things Dante. I no longer worked until all hours of the night. I went into the office at nine, and left promptly at five. I didn’t even get frustrated when Blake told me he hadn’t had a chance to track down any additional information on my father or Cynthia Edelman. It didn’t matter. Not anymore. The only thing that did was spending time with Dante.
The morning after our first official date, he created a bit of a buzz at the office when he brought me a coffee and a pastry. No one had ever done something like that for me before. It sounded like such a small thing, but for me, after being in a relationship with someone who never appreciated me, it was everything. Dante was everything.
The more time we spent together, the more I was able to catch a glimpse of what real life with Dante would be like. Going through this process of dating and not sleeping together forced us to see each other through the fog of the clouds we’d been living in. We went bowling. We chased food trucks around the city, looking for that hidden gem. We went to the zoo. We played carnival games at Santa Monica Pier. As we strolled along the boardwalk on Venice Beach, he promised to take me to the real Venice one day. And, for the first time, I did nothing to dissuade him
. Instead, I told him how much I looked forward to walking along the canals with him by my side.
Despite all the time I’d spent exploring the city with Dante, he’d yet to stay the night. He would walk me to my door, treating me to yet another goodnight kiss to add to my growing collection, but refused to come inside. However, as desperate as I was for more of him, to feel him, to lose myself in him, I wouldn’t trade this time for anything in the world. Taking things slowly helped me realize the path I was meant to take. I supposed I’d always known what that was. These few weeks simply solidified I was making the right decision.
The wind blew pretty fiercely on the first Friday in October as I hurried out of the office, rushing to run a few errands and get home to prepare what I had in store for the evening. Over the past few weeks, Dante had planned every single date, wooing me and stealing yet another piece of my heart with each outing. Tonight, it was my turn. I told him I wanted to surprise him with something special and, after a little resistance, he eventually agreed.
Once I was home, I unloaded my groceries and the other items I’d picked up, then took a shower. After toweling off, I eyed the time, noticing I still had a few hours until Dante arrived. I threw on a pair of yoga pants and one of Dante’s t-shirts, bringing the material up to my nose to inhale the scent that reminded me of sunshine, vines, and happiness. That reminded me of lazy days and romantic nights. That reminded me of home. I finally realized where home was. It had been right under my nose all along.
I walked into the kitchen area and opened a bottle of Sangiovese I’d picked up at the store, pouring myself a glass. Over the past several months, I had steered clear of all Italian wines, even the taste of the robust grapes too painful. But it seemed fitting tonight, a way to mark the next stage of my life.
The wine warming my stomach, I turned toward the small pantry and grabbed the flour. Rummaging through the refrigerator, I found the carton of eggs, then went about preparing the pasta dough the way Dante had taught me in Italy. When it looked about right, I set it in a bowl and placed some plastic wrap over it, allowing it to rise while I worked on browning the ground beef for the Bolognese. I could have made him any number of dishes, but something about the memory of the day he taught me to make this particular one always stood out in my mind. Over the past few months, when I felt as if things couldn’t get any worse, all I had to do was close my eyes and go back to Dante’s kitchen as he stood with his arms around me. A moment when I was able to forget about the truth of who we were, about my past, about his past. In that moment, we were simply two people struggling to find our way.
