forty-five

Tessa

Dante’s massive cock always seems to find me. I swear, the damn thing has a honing device for my ass. I wriggle away and crane my neck to see the clock. I’m not ready to get up yet, but we probably should.

“Stop wiggling,” Dante groans.

“Sorry.”

I attempt to slide out of bed, but he snakes an arm around my hip, holding me in place.

“Dante, it’s almost eight, and depending on traffic—”

“What time do you need to be there again?”

“Ten.”

“You’ll make it.” He rolls from his side and onto his back. “Come here.”

I twist to face him, and he taps his chest, so I scooch closer, nestling into him. We lie there in silence for several minutes while the beating of his heart thrums in my ear, and he traces circles over my hip.

“I’m going to miss you,” he says quietly.

“You keep saying that.”

“I know, but it’s true.”

“I’ll miss you, too, but I’m coming back.”

“So you keep saying.” He kisses my forehead. “We need to get moving.”

“My clothes?” I can’t remember exactly what I left behind, but I’m hoping for options.

“Top left drawer.”

“After I get dressed, I’ll make some coffee.”

When I get out of bed, he doesn’t stop me, and I make fast work of my morning routine, making sure to grab what I wore last night out of the bathroom. Once Dante is in the shower, I stride over to the dresser and opt for comfort. I pair black workout pants with two layering tanks.

Then, I go into the kitchen and make two mugs of coffee, so we can take them with us. Twenty minutes later, Dante is ready, and we’re out the door.

The drive to the airport is quiet. Dante’s attention is severely focused on the road, so I stare out the window, thinking about Napa and where the path will lead after that. I glance at Dante, taking in his profile. I hope, wherever the journey takes me, it will bring me full circle.

Before long, we’re at the airport. Dante drives into the garage and follows the signs for short-term parking. When he finds a spot and shuts the car off, I start to get out, but his voice stops me.

“You could find someone to talk to here.” His tone is gentle but matter-of-fact.

I settle back into the seat, and our gazes lock.

I tell him the truth, “I have to go, Dante. Please don’t make this harder.”

“Do you think this is easy for me? You aren’t the only one who’s been through hell, Tessa. Trevor betrayed me, too. He stole from our company. Then, the fucker got himself killed and didn’t have to answer for a damn thing. I’ve been running on empty, doing everything half-assed, while trying to clean up his mess.”

“I know how hard this has been for you,” I say calmly.

“Really? I wasn’t sure you noticed because, lately, all you seem to do is walk away.” Fire flashes in his dark irises.

“I’m sorry, Dante. I’m so sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry for what Trevor did.” My eyes sting with unshed tears, blurring his face. “I’m going. Please try to understand.”

We sit here in the stillness, in the confined space, with a chasm of emotions between us until Dante finally breaks the silence. “You need to get checked in.” He gets out of the car, slams the door, takes my bag from the trunk, and closes it with more force than necessary.

I know he’s hurting, but I can’t carry the weight of his pain with my proverbial baggage. I’m not that strong. I get out of the car and double-check to make sure I have everything before shutting the door.

Tension wafts off us in thick waves, causing the ocean of people to part, giving us a wide berth as we tread through the airport.

“You don’t have to stay,” I tell him, not wanting to draw out the painful process.

“I’m not. I have to get to work. I’ll make sure you’re squared away, and then I have to go.”

Dante follows me as far as he can, and when it comes time for us to part ways, my heart seizes. He kisses my forehead, turns, and strides away. I stare at his back for several seconds before panic takes over. He can’t leave like this.

He’s maybe thirty feet away when I call out his name, “Dante.” I yell louder, “Dante, wait!”

He stops and slowly pivots in my direction.

I run toward him, tears cascading down my cheeks. I drop my carry-on and throw myself into his outstretched arms. My legs go around his waist, and I hold tight to his neck.

“Not like this. Please…not like this.”

My heart is pounding, and his is, too. I want to tell him I love him, but until I can give him the mangled pieces of my heart and mean those words the way he does…I won’t.

He slides me down his body, and my hands fist the front of his shirt. Dante cups my cheeks, crashing his mouth to mine, and our tongues tangle. Stoking the flame until the heat of our kiss scorches my soul like the sun. When he drags his lips away, his palms remain on my face.

Raw pain shines in his eyes as he makes his plea, “Come back to me, Tessa.”

He puts his forehead to mine, and for several seconds, we breathe in each other’s air. Then, he cradles my head against his chest, and my arms glide around him.

“Promise you’ll come back to me,” he whispers harshly.

I can only nod in the tight hold of his embrace. It takes me a few minutes to gather the strength to let him go.

“Let me know when you land.”

“I will.”

“Bye, Tess.”

Not good-bye. “See you later, Dante.”

We turn away from each other, moving in opposite directions and both hoping, wherever the broken road leads, it will bring us back together.