by T. K. Leigh
He closed his eyes, his lip quivering from the memory. “I tried to hang on, but I couldn’t. It was too much. That’s when I pleaded with you to put me out of my misery. Without knowing if help was on the way, I broke down. I hated leaving you, but I knew Bradley would make sure nothing would happen to you. When this all began, he swore he would. And it’s been his ability and influence that allowed him to fulfill that promise.”
“Why did you do it?” I choked out. “Why did you almost die for me?”
“Because, Eleanor.” He swiped at the few tears falling down my cheeks. “Because I love you. The thought of you suffering, even for a second, gutted me. And I would gladly take another beating, another knife to the stomach, to the heart, to the liver to save you from enduring any pain. I wouldn’t even hesitate.” He reached his free arm across his body, pulling me back against him.
“I almost shot you, Dante.” I blinked back my tears, my chest squeezing as I thought how different today could have been, how I could have been standing at his grave instead of snuggling against his warm body. “If the FBI had come in one second later…”
“But they didn’t.” He cupped my cheek. “Like I said the other night, this was all in the cards. This was the path we had to take.” He brought his lips close, sparks shooting through me when they brushed against mine for the first time in days.
“I hope the rest of our path is filled with unicorns and rainbows.”
“Me, too.” He chuckled slightly, then winced. “But if it’s not, we’ll get through it, just like we got through all of this.” He grabbed my left hand in his, bringing it to his lips. “Together.” He placed a delicate kiss on the vacant ring finger. His eyes filled with promise before they closed and he slowly drifted off to sleep.
I listened to his breathing even out, then slowly peeled my body from his, doing my best not to disturb him as I made my way across his room. Just as I was about to close the door behind me, I took one last look at him.
“If you ask me, I’ll say yes, Dante,” I whispered.
His lips curved into a flirtatious smile.
“I know,” he murmured groggily.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I STRUGGLED TO KEEP my eyes open as I walked down the hall toward the waiting area to get a coffee before finding James. Mila jumped up the instant she saw me approach.
“How’s he doing?” she asked.
She and Steven had barely left the hospital since Saturday. I’d told them they didn’t need to hang around, that we were fine, but they insisted on staying. I couldn’t fault them. If the shoe were on the other foot, I’d do the same.
“He’s sleeping again. Now that they’ve started cutting back on the pain meds a bit, he’s more awake and coherent. We had a good talk with James. He told me everything.” I looked at Steven.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what I was working on. I had just hoped to find something on Brock to wipe that permanent self-righteous smirk off his face and hold him accountable for what I know happened in Rome, although you refused to tell me any details. But in my gut, I knew it couldn’t be good. Never would I have thought I’d stumble on what I did.”
“How did you?”
“I put the fear of God into that bimbo secretary he was screwing. It’s amazing how agreeable people get when they see a badge. I was just looking for information on whether he’d ever been violent with her, but she ended up spilling her guts and telling me about some of the phone calls she’d overheard where he mentioned drug contamination and winning the Senate seat. Since he was running for the House and not the Senate, I knew something was going on. I went to James just to ask a few questions and hit the proverbial gold mine.”
“So what’s going to happen now?” Mila asked after a brief silence.
I shrugged. “My dad will probably be discharged tomorrow. We’ve already made arrangements for home nursing care for him, and he’ll have to go through vigorous physical therapy, but the doctors are optimistic he’ll be walking again in no time.”
“And Dante?”
“He’ll still be here another three or four days. Regardless, his doctor doesn’t want us doing any major traveling for at least two months, just in case there are any complications.”
“Do you still want to do any major traveling?” She lifted a brow.
I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth. “When I first learned my father survived, my gut reaction was that I couldn’t go, not now, not after everything. But I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Staying here doesn’t feel right. Dante and I both need a fresh start, and we can have that in Italy. I’ll be back throughout the year, but this place doesn’t feel like home anymore. The instant I met Dante, Italy became my home.”
Mila nodded, running her hands down my arms. “Then you need to go.” She pinched her lips and we shared a look before I averted my eyes, clearing my throat.
“Well, I told James I’d find him once Dante fell asleep. You guys should get back to LA. We’re both okay. Go home and give those kiddos a big hug for me.”
“Are you sure?” Mila pressed. “We don’t mind staying. What if—”
“Mila, I love you. But if I learned anything from this ordeal, it’s that family comes first. Go see your girls. I’d do anything to get back the time I wasted with my father. Don’t make the same mistake.”
She nodded in understanding, then wrapped her arms around me, giving me a longer than normal hug. “Okay. But if you need me, just say the word. I’ll be out the door and on my way back here in a heartbeat.”
I inhaled a long breath, relishing in the feel of her embrace. “You got it.” I released my hold on her and flung my arms around Steven, squeezing him tighter than I ever had. “Thank you,” I whispered. “So much.”
He kissed my cheek. “You bet, Ellie.”
I held him for a moment longer, then stepped back before heading down the hallway toward the vending area, keeping my head lowered. Every sound still had me on edge. I felt the heat of a hundred eyes scorching my skin, whispers about what I’d been forced to endure making the hairs on my nape stand on end. One of the reasons I’d stayed at the hospital once I’d been discharged was because of the news crews camped out front, waiting for either Dante or me to emerge so they could shove a microphone into our face and blind us with the lights of their cameras, begging for a sound bite they could play on the six o’clock news about what we’d been through. I didn’t want to talk to them. I didn’t think I’d ever be ready for that.
I ducked into the small vending room, reaching into my purse for my wallet and inserting a bill into one of the machines. As I waited for it to spit out my coffee, I rested my forehead against the machine and closed my eyes, letting out a long breath.
Without warning, Dante’s bloodied and near lifeless body flashed before me. I immediately flung my eyes open, reminding myself that we were safe, that we’d survived, but all I could hear were his agonizing pleas for relief surrounding me like a sadistic chorus. I stepped back, covering my ears as I sank to the floor, trying to drown out the sounds. I dug my fingers into my hair, tugging at it, struggling to capture a breath as my world seemed to spin around me. Would I ever be able to close my eyes and not see that horrible sight, not hear his anguish, not smell the stench of death? I drew in breath after breath, nothing soothing the fire in my throat. I knew there would come a time when everything I’d been through would finally hit me, causing me to break down. I just thought it wouldn’t happen until I was somewhere with a bit more privacy.
Before I had a chance to figure out what was going on, I felt a pair of arms around me. “My god, Ellie,” a familiar gruff voice said, his own tone shaky with emotion.
I looked up through my tear-filled eyes to see James sitting beside me, pulling me into his arms. He kissed my forehead, rubbing my back. “It’s going to be okay. You’re okay.”
“I almost killed him.” My entire body trembled as I mentally returned to that moment, feeling the weight of the gun in my hands, hearing
the jeers of all the men watching. I peered at him. “My finger was on the trigger, James. We prayed. I almost shot him.”
He blinked, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. “But you didn’t. Don’t dwell on what could have happened. Focus on what’s important, what really matters. That you survived. That you’re okay. That you’re both okay and you’re going to go on to live long, healthy lives. That the person responsible for Lilly’s death, for hundreds of deaths, will finally be brought to justice.” He pulled me closer, rubbing a soothing hand down my back as we sat on the floor.
“She used Brock, too,” I said after a long silence, staring at the wall in front of me. “He had no idea…” I shook my head. “She promised she’d support him in a run for my father’s open Senate seat if he helped, but she had no intention of doing so. She probably planned to kill him all along…” I trailed off.
“I love my son, and what happened to him was tragic, but he made his decision. While I don’t believe he deserved to die for his actions, it was an unfortunate consequence of his poor judgment. We all must suffer the consequences of our decisions.” He looked forward, running his large hand over his face. I could physically feel his guilt and remorse for how he’d treated Dante the past several decades.
“He’ll come around,” I offered. I didn’t know what else to say. I didn’t know why I felt so much compassion toward him. If I’d learned anything over the past several days it was the importance of forgiveness, to allow people to make amends for their mistakes.
“I hope so.”
I remained in his embrace for several long moments. When my tears had subsided, he stood, holding out his hand toward me. “Come on. There’s something I need you to see.”
“What is it?” I furrowed my brow.
“Just come with me. Afterward, I’ll take you to get a real coffee, not this crappy swill they have here.”
I smiled, taking his hand. “I’d like that.” He helped me to my feet, then slung his arm over my shoulders, leading me out of the vending room.
It felt a little strange to have this sort of familiarity with him. I’d known him since I was a baby. In fact, I couldn’t remember a time when James Harrison wasn’t a permanent fixture in my father’s life. But this was different. There were no attempts to pretend to be someone we weren’t…not anymore. For the first time, I could be myself, and I had a feeling James finally could, as well.
We passed the reception area, the desk buzzing with activity. My sneakers squeaked against the linoleum floor as James continued to lead me down the hallways, skirting staff and visitors, some of their eyes puffy and bloodshot from crying. I wondered who they were visiting, why they were upset. I said another prayer that I wasn’t in that position, that despite what I’d been through, I still had my life. I still had Dante.
As we approached my father’s room, the two secret service agents stationed outside nodded a greeting, then stepped back, allowing us to proceed past them. James hesitated briefly when he put his hand on the door, glancing at me. My heart immediately began to race, wondering what he was about to show me. Then he smiled a wide smile and slowly opened the door.
Crossing the threshold, my eyes fell on my father’s bed. My heart immediately dropped to the pit of my stomach at the sight of the woman sitting in the chair beside him, holding his hand, planting soft kisses on his knuckles.
James cleared his throat and she shot her head up, her eyes meeting mine for the first time.
“Eleanor?” She released her hold on my father and stood, stepping around the bed toward me, pausing a few feet away.
My lips parting, I slowly walked toward her, studying her. I knew she was on the other side of fifty, but she looked remarkably young, barely any lines on her fair skin. Her shoulder-length dark brown hair had a subtle curl to it, her deep hazel eyes full of decades of apologies and regrets.
“I know you probably have so many questions,” she began nervously, fidgeting with her hands. “And you have every right to be angry. I just—”
Not allowing her to mutter another word, I flung my arms around her neck, squeezing her tightly as tears fell down my face. She briefly tensed up, then relaxed, her arms welcoming me back home after years of being apart.
“I am so sorry, baby. I’m sorry I let her take you.” She kissed my temple, and I melted into her. I was almost twenty-nine years old, but I felt just like the sad little girl who cried into her nanny’s chest, wondering why her mother didn’t love her. “I just didn’t know what else to do. I’ve prayed for this day for years.”
“I remember you.” I pulled out of her embrace, meeting her eyes. “I thought you were an angel, but I remember playing hide-and-seek when I was a little girl.”
A warm smile lit up her face. “You loved that game.” She held me at arm’s length, gazing fondly at me. “I’m so sorry I didn’t fight harder for you, that I gave you up so easily.”
“I know why you did. Dad told me how Merriweather went to you,” I said, looking at my father, who simply beamed at the sight of us together.
“That’s true,” he said. “But I think you deserve the whole story, not just the shortened version. It may just restore your faith in fairy tales, although I’m pretty sure Dante’s already done that.” He winked.
Cynthia grabbed my hand and led me toward the bed, sitting down beside him. When I took the vacant chair next to her, James smiled, then retreated silently, closing the door behind him to give us some space to talk.
“You were born early.” She looked at my father. “Francis didn’t even know I was pregnant until I was nine months along. I had left D.C. and was in my first year of law school in Connecticut.”
“You left your internship early. Was it…?” I lifted a brow.
She nodded. “Yes. I didn’t want him to know I was pregnant. After all, he had a wife.”
“Who I’d told you time and time again I’d leave in a heartbeat for you.”
“And like I told you time and time again, I couldn’t allow you to destroy your career,” she retorted. “I knew how powerful her family was, how hungry Lucas Merriweather was to finally spread his influence to the White House. I worried what they’d do to you, to me, to us if they found out.” She turned her attention back to me. “So I left D.C. without another word to Francis…until one day in early January when he tracked me down at the office I was temping in.”
“After the initial shock wore off, I was over the moon,” Dad continued. “I had to get back to D.C. for an important vote, but promised to return in time for your birth.”
“Like I said, I went into labor early,” Cynthia interjected, meeting my eyes. “This was the late eighties, so there wasn’t any texting or cell phones. I certainly couldn’t call his home phone to let him know. I tried calling his office, but I couldn’t arouse suspicion, so my messages were pretty vague.”
“I didn’t get any of them, so I had absolutely no idea she’d even called.”
“Merriweather?” I lifted a brow.
“I think so. I’d given him so much power and control over my office and staff. I won the election, but he was the one making decisions. Not me.”
“So you were completely oblivious to the fact that I was born?”
He nodded, his eyes heavy with remorse.
“The hospital discharged me forty-eight hours after you were born,” Cynthia explained. “I was all alone, in a small apartment, trying to take care of this human. When days went by and I still hadn’t heard from Francis, I started to wonder whether all his promises to me were just lies. I was struggling to breastfeed, and you were crying all the time. I thought maybe I’d made a mistake.” She swiped at the tears trickling down her cheek.
“So when Lucas Merriweather showed up on my doorstep, I didn’t know what else to do. I was at such a vulnerable time in my life, I don’t even remember agreeing to give you up. One minute, I was trying to soothe your cries. The next, silence rang in my apartment. Not even twenty-four hours later, your father was bang
ing on my door, demanding I let him in and tell him why I’d done it. But I couldn’t face him, so I ignored him. And I ignored everyone else for weeks. When the regret from what I’d done was more than I could handle, I bought a train ticket with my last few dollars and went to D.C. to get you back. But Merriweather answered the door and threatened to have me arrested for kidnapping.”
“But you were my mother.”
“Not anymore. This was before computers really took off. Merriweather had enough pull to convince someone to manipulate the record to reflect that Marjorie was the biological mother, and that’s exactly what happened. So I left without speaking to Francis, without letting him know that I did care about you, allowing him to think I gave you up. And I allowed him to think that for the first year of your life.
“I never returned to Yale. I ended up staying in the area, crashing with a few friends in Northern Virginia while I looked for a job. I began working as a waitress at a few upscale restaurants in D.C. and was finally able to move into my own place. Nothing special, but it was all mine. I thought I was getting my life together. Then, just after your first birthday, it all crumbled when I saw Francis walk into my restaurant, then get seated at a table in my section. I ran into the kitchen and found my boss, trying to come up with some excuse about why I couldn’t be there. Luckily, the last thing any restaurant wants is an employee with a stomach bug serving food to their customers, so I was able to leave, but not before Francis noticed me.”
My father gave her a slight smile. “I thought I was hallucinating when I saw this flash of dark hair dash out the doors. I’d been on edge from the instant I’d walked into that restaurant. I can’t explain it.” He ran his thumb along her knuckles. “There was this charge in the air. I had a feeling it was her, so I darted from my table and ran after her, hoping it wasn’t a complete stranger. When I placed my hand on her shoulder and forced her to stop, that same charge I’d felt the first time her fingers brushed against mine trickled through me. I knew it was her. She turned around and our eyes locked for the first time in over a year.”
