Chapter 31

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

DANTE

“ A re you going to text someone on there or just stare at it?” Slate asks as I open my message to Alyssa for the hundredth time in the last hour.

I clear my throat and shove it back into my pocket. “I was just checking something.”

He smiles knowingly, and I hate him for it. “Mm, well, pick your roller back up. This wall isn’t going to paint itself, and if we don’t get it done before Brynne gets home, we’re both dead.”

I grab the long handle on the paint roller brush and run it through the blue paint in the pan he’d filled for me.

“What color is this, anyhow?” I ask him. I connect the roller to the wall, making smooth lines up to the painters’ tape and back down to the baseboards with the overhang of plastic sheeting covering the floors.

“Pacific Blue,” he says, slathering his own wall in the stuff.

“It’s nice,” I say offhandedly.

My mind is too full, and my heart is too torn up to be more present than I am, which isn’t present at all.

“Are you alright?” he asks me as I place the roller back down, having only finished half the wall with a second coat.

“I’m fine, why?” My words are clipped. Even I don’t believe them.

“Yeah, sure, you’re fine, and I’m the King of England.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You don’t want to talk about her, you mean.”

“Just don’t do that shit right now, okay?”

“Do what shit?” He whirls around, nearly hitting me with his roller covered in Pacific Blue.

I dodge out of his way as he grins.

“The Slate thing. Where you know all the right things to say to fuck me up even more. Let me wallow, alright?”

He shrugs, returning to his wall once his roller is good and wet again. “It’s been six months. Nearly seven. How long do you think this wallowing will go on for?”

I grumble something under my breath as I go back to painting. Slate’s right; Brynne will murder us where we stand if she returns from walking with Lorenzo, and this room isn’t finished.

We promised it weeks ago but have been engrossed in keeping the peace with the Romanos after the truce and getting our house in order after the switch in power nearly a year ago.

Everything is falling into place.

Well, mostly everything.

“You sure we should’ve let Lorenzo go with Brynne? You know he drives her up the wall.”

Slate shrugs. “I can’t be in two places at once, and she’s determined to walk Nico right out of her stomach. I find it best to let her do what she wants.”

I smirk, knowing he can’t see me with my back turned. “Wise man.”

“I’m not trying to be wise; I’m trying to stay alive. She’s as good of an aim as any of my men.”

I laugh despite the seriousness of his words.

“I think you’re being an idiot, you know?” Slate says. He’s never been one to mince words. I don’t know why I thought he’d start now.

“You’ve said as much.” I sigh.

I replace my paint roller with the tray and stand back as I finish my wall.

“Both of you are being stupid.”

“Hey!” I turn on him, forgetting my place for a beat as I scowl at him. “Her fears are valid, and she’s been through a lot. While some of us barrel into the scary shit, others run from it, alright? You don’t get to say shit about her when you don’t understand her.”

His immediate reaction is anger; how could it not be, being who he is? However, he stows it, his eyes softening as he takes me in.

I scrub my paint-covered hands over my face. “I’m sorry, Slate. I don’t mean to be this way; it’s just… It’s like I’m not in control of my temper anymore. I’m sorry.”

He puts his roller into his tray, walks over, and claps me on the shoulder.

His dark brown eyes stare into mine. “You don’t give up on love, Dante. No matter what. Give her time. Give her space. But don’t give up.”

“We Riccis don’t give in,” I say, mirroring words he’s said to me a thousand times over the last few months of therapy and emotional breakdowns through my recovery.

Brynne walks into the room, her hands on the curvature of her back, her belly jutting out further than I thought the human stomach could stretch.

We both freeze as she assesses our work.

She moves around the room, and my heart races behind my ribs. It’s silly, really. However, she is a bit scary, if I’m honest.

“It’s great, guys. Thank you!”

The room gets lighter as we both sigh in relief.

Brynne eyes me as Slate cleans up the mess on the floor. Something about how she looks at me says she wants to say something, but how she sinks her top teeth into her bottom lip says she knows she needs to keep her mouth shut.

It has worry seeding in my gut.

I step into her. “Is she alright?”

She chews her cheek, eyes narrowing as she pauses.

“Come on, Brynne. You and I are friends. I need to know she’s okay.”

She sighs as she shakes her head. “No. She’s not. Your last text fucked her up, Dante. You didn’t hear that shit from me, though. You got me?”

I nod. “I got you. Thank you, B.”

She smiles as she leaves the room, and I note that the smile doesn’t reach her eyes. Not even close.

Fuck.

I hadn’t meant to hurt Alyssa, even though part of me knew the texting these last six months was likely doing just that. I couldn’t let her go.

Even if I was mad at how she left me after the accident.

Brynne pops back in the room, and Slate and I freeze again.

“You know, I wish you and her would work this out. Mauro is driving me insane. I want my right-hand man back.”

I give her a tight smile in answer.

I’d love to tell her that I forsee me and Alyssa working shit out, but I don’t have much hope anymore.

Not this far gone.

Slate gives me a look that says make his wife happy or else, and I roll my eyes at him.

“Sir, what are we doing? You said you were through with this?” Pauly says.

“I know what I said, just…give me a few minutes.” I get out of the car and lean against it, the New York cold nipping my nose as I look up as if I can see her through any of the street-facing windows.

Everything Slate and Brynne said stuck with me on the way home, and I rerouted Pauly faster than anything I’ve ever done.

We’ve been here for an hour now, and she hasn’t returned. I don’t know which apartment is hers or her routine. I only found her address pinned to Brynne’s freezer when I was helping put food away after dinner and snapped a picture of it when no one was looking.

“Sir,” Pauly warns through his now-open window.

He’s right. This is weird.

I told her I’d leave her alone and that I needed to.

No matter what I know about how she reacted to my last text.

No matter how much I want to march in that building, kick down every door until I find her, and spank her fucking ass raw.

“I’m coming,” I tell Pauly, opening the door and giving the building one backward glance.

I slide in and shut the door as Pauly moves away from the curb.

“This isn’t healthy,” Pauly tells me, but my head and heart are too overwhelmed to listen to him.

I don’t know which way is up and what’s the right thing to do anymore. Not when it comes to her.

I wish I were someone different. Someone whose life she wasn’t petrified of.

It’s been hours since Pauly dropped me off at home, and I’ve been drowning my sorrows in any liquor I could get my hands on in the apartment, blasting music loud enough that the neighbors likely hate me more than they already do.

It’s one a.m. when I hear someone pounding on the door. I turn the music down and shuffle to the door. I’m fully ready for it to be the neighbor coming to tell me to shut the music off when I swing it wide open.

“Listen, I’m sorry…” I slur but stop talking when I stare into Alyssa’s tear-stained blue eyes.

Neither of us move.

Neither of us speaks.

My heart pounds so loud that it’s all I can hear, and tears spring to my eyes as my breathing fires out of control.

“Tesoro,” I finally say, and she sobs louder, stepping into me and wrapping around me.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” she cries as I robotically wrap my arms around her and tug her inside.

Moving her to the couch, I sit down and tug her onto my lap.

I say nothing. What is there to say?

So many raw emotions float, and a lump gets stuck in my throat.

I can’t swallow past them.

Anger mixes with joy, which swirls into sadness as I hold her tight.

She cries, her body shaking violently as she buries her head into my neck.

Closing my eyes, I bask in the feel of her in my arms again, her scent winnowing into every sinew of my sinuses.

She turns in my lap, straddling me as she cups either side of my face.

She looks me over as if she’s relearning what I look like. There’s a deep scar on the left side of my head, digging its way through my hair and down my ear and jawline from where the car had buckled and sunken into my skull.

“Fuck,” she whispers, fresh tears falling from her puffy red eyes.

“It’s healed now,” I tell her, trying to make her feel better, but likely only digging the knife of shame deeper through her stomach.

“I should’ve been there.”

I let her words settle between us. There’s nothing else I can say back. Even if I feel like she should have, she wasn’t under any obligation to be there, logically.

She told me from the beginning she could only handle no strings, and I promised her it was just sex.

Things have been complicated with us from the beginning, but she has always been honest with me about who she is.

It was me who got the wrong idea.

Even if she went about leaving the wrong fucking way.

She leans forward, her forehead resting against mine, which blanks my mind for the first time in six months.

The world silences in her presence, and I close my eyes and breathe the peace in.

“Why are you here, tesoro?” I whisper.

“I have things to say to you,” she says, pulling back.

Something in my stomach burns, and I try to ignore it.

“Alright, I’m drunk enough to hear what you came to say. Go ahead.”

She gets out her phone, clicks on something, and starts scrolling, her hands shaking.

She clears her throat. “Thank you. When I wake up without you, it nearly kills me, too. I’m glad you survived for me. I think about what we could’ve been if I were different, but never in my thoughts are you any different. You’re perfect.”

It takes a few more moments until I realize she’s answering my text messages.

Tears overflow from my eyes, and I let them.

She continues, “What things would you do to me if I were there? I miss you, too. I’m so fucking proud of you and how you kicked ass in recovery. I wish I could’ve seen it all. I wish I were stronger. I wish I were more like you. You’re not afraid of anything. I’m so sorry you’re struggling. I have nightmares, too. I’m sorry, too. The world isn’t dimmer without you; it’s fucking bleak.”

My tears are blurring my vision, and I want to stop her. I want to kiss her.

But I want all of her answers.

Fuck, I’ve wanted all of these answers for so long. I know it took her a long time to decide to come here, too, so I let her keep going.

“Pain is for the birds, and I’m sorry I caused your pain.”

She puts the phone down, and I open my mouth to reply. She shakes her head.

“You’re the strongest man that I know, and you’re the only man in my life that I’ve ever cared about. It scares me, Dante. Commitment scares me. I don’t know if I can ever be what you deserve, which scares me. Being without you and feeling this pain for the rest of my life petrifies me.”

I swallow; she’s doing so well.

Even if I can smell the alcohol on her breath.

After all, who am I to judge?

“I just needed to apologize, Dante. I needed to answer these. I’ve almost texted back a thousand times. I’ve almost come here a million more times than that. You’ve changed me. Changed my life. Changed how I see the world, and I don’t know…” She starts to hyperventilate, and I pull her back into me as she starts crying again.

“Shh, tesoro. I forgive you. Fuck, I was never mad at you. Shh, don’t cry. You’re killing me.”

“I’m just so sorry,” she snivels, and I hug her tighter.

“I know, tesoro. I know.”

She cries until she runs out of tears, or maybe she’s fallen asleep.

I don’t move, even though my feet are falling asleep, and my eyes are growing heavy.

I hold her as tightly as my arms will allow, feeling her breaths on my neck and drinking in the feel of her.

When morning comes, I wonder if she’ll still be here. I also wonder if this is all a drunken dream.

Another hour passes before I finally have to move. With great effort, I stand, holding her to me and carrying her into her room, where I’ve been sleeping since I got home.

Laying her on the bed, I climb behind her and tug her close. I wrap around her and get her as close as I can.

If she’s only here for a night, I’ll soak in every minute I can.

I close my eyes, and for once, sleep finds me.