Chapter One

One foot in front of the other. That was all I had to do. One step at a time. It was what the coin…fate told me I should do. Judging from the past ten days, I knew in my heart fate was real, that she wouldn’t steer me wrong, that this was all part of her plan.

Then why was there a sick taste in my mouth about what would happen once I left the security area of the airport? What would life be like? Would it be the same as it was before? Was I making a huge mistake?

When I reached the sign warning me there would be no re-entry once I passed, I hesitated. I looked from where I’d come to where I was headed. Both held uncertainty. Was one choice better than the other? Was one path easier than the other? I couldn’t be sure. All I knew was I’d tossed a coin. I had to believe fate knew what she was doing when she showed me which direction to take.

Hardening myself for whatever awaited me on the other side, I sucked in a long breath and walked through a pair of sliding glass doors, my heels clicking on the tile. There was no turning back now. But was this where I truly belonged?

I immediately came to a stop, closing my eyes and holding my breath, almost expecting something horrible to happen as fate’s way of telling me I’d misread her signs. But nothing did. No big explosion. No bolt of lightning hitting me. No swarm of locusts. Life carried on, hurried travelers passing me as they sought the comfort of their homes or hotel rooms.

Refocusing ahead of me, I continued up the ramp, the fluorescent lights overhead feeling as if they were burning my skin. I scanned the crowd, watching old friends hugging after not seeing each other for any given length of time. I couldn’t help but feel like this was all wrong, like I was a stranger here, like the coin had steered me wrong. Maybe I should have followed my heart instead.

“Ellie!” Mila’s voice cut through the bustle of bodies. I snapped my head to the left.

The instant I saw her tall, slender frame rushing toward me, I exhaled, dropping my bags and walking into her arms. It wasn’t until this moment that reality sank in. I’d actually gotten on that plane and returned home to the pieces of a broken life. I didn’t want to be here, but I wasn’t sure Rome was the answer, either. I didn’t know what the answer was. All my life, I’d always had a plan. Now I was lost, a fish swimming upstream against a current, getting nowhere.

“I really hoped I wouldn’t see you here today,” Mila lamented, rubbing my back. Her own voice sounded as pained as I felt.

“It’s for the best,” I struggled to respond through the lump in my throat, pulling out of her arms as I swiped away the few tears that had escaped.

Squeezing my biceps, she peered at me with comforting green eyes. “Why did you come back?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” I shook off what she was insinuating. “I had a round-trip ticket.”

She shrugged. “So? That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Mila,” I sighed, my shoulders falling. “I don’t want to talk about it right now. Like I told you earlier in the week…” I grabbed the handles of my bags, rolling them toward the automatic doors leading to the busy pick-up area of the airport. “It was just a vacation fling.” My voice faltered. Nothing could be further from the truth. I didn’t want to rehash everything I’d felt, everything I’d experienced with Dante. The wound was still too raw, the ache in my chest still too painful, the memory of his skin on mine still too real. “Nothing more,” I finished, the words barely audible.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, Ellie. I won’t beat it out of you today, but I’ll get you to talk about it one of these days.”

“And I’ll talk about it, but not yet. Right now, I just want to pretend the last few months…hell, years of my life never happened.”

“No, you don’t.”

I met her stare, my lips lifting slightly at the corners. “You’re right.” I sighed. “I don’t.”

As much as my heart ached from the memory of Dante, he’d shown me how it felt to be free, to be loved, to fly. He gave me my wings. He changed me. Regardless of what the future held, of how much my soul wept without him, I would always be grateful to him for that.

When we reached the crosswalk, I slowed my steps, soaking in the familiar ambience of Los Angeles International Airport. I used to find a sense of comfort whenever I landed back here. The smell in the air. The heat of the sun. The sound of the cars whizzing by as they fought to find curb space to pick up a waiting passenger. Now all these things just made me long for the serenity of rolling green hills, beautiful vines, and warm arms holding me with more love and devotion than I thought possible.

“Feels good to be back home, doesn’t it?” Mila remarked, noticing my distant expression. “Or maybe this isn’t home anymore.”

Biting my lower lip, I stared straight ahead, a heaviness in my limbs. “This is home,” I answered, my flat, emotionless voice anything but convincing. “And yes.” I faced her, smiling a fabricated smile. “It’s good to be back…where I belong.”

“Are you sure about that?”

I sucked in a breath, giving her the only answer I could. “I’m not sure about anything right now.”

She wrapped an arm around my shoulders, leaning her head against me. “I know. I hate that you’re going through this, but we’ll figure it all out.”

“Thanks, Mila,” I offered. “You’re a good friend. The only friend I have.”

She lifted her head, her expression lightening as a playful smile built on her mouth. “Correction. I’m the only one you need. Let’s go.” She gestured toward the parking garage across the street. “Car’s this way.”

Once we were situated in her SUV, she drove away from the airport, past several blocks of hotels, finally merging onto the freeway. Red brake lights met us immediately.

“Only in LA,” I muttered.

“Why would you want to live anywhere else?” Mila mused, repeating a line I’d said so many times in the past, words I once believed with every ounce of conviction I had. I’d always loved Southern California. The food. The climate. The landscape. The majestic mountains that gave way to miles of pristine ocean. The culture. The diversity. Now it all seemed lacking. It was all different. It was all wrong.

“Why would you?” I mumbled, leaning my head against the window. I felt Mila’s eyes on me, studying every move, every facial expression, every breath. Instead of giving her an opening to push more about my time in Italy, I turned to her, my voice bright, masking my pain. I’d spent the last twenty-eight years of my life pretending to be someone I wasn’t. This was no different. “So, tell me, anything exciting happen this week?”

“Nothing nearly as exciting as your week.”

“Which I don’t want to talk about just yet. So make something up to take my mind off everything, okay?” I looked at her with pleading eyes.

She studied me for a protracted moment, then turned her attention back to the road. “Well, Harley decided to say ‘Goddammit’ over and over again this past weekend.”

“There are worse things she could say.”

“During church.”

I laughed, picturing both Mila’s and Steven’s horrified reactions. I was certain neither one of them were able to keep from laughing, although I was sure they wanted to.

“Let’s see. What else?” She tapped a finger on the steering wheel. “Oh, Ashlyn says she has a new boyfriend. Some little kid we see at the park from time to time. But he’s six. Apparently, she has a thing for older men. It’s probably a good thing, though. Boys do mature at a slower rate than girls.”

“Yes, they do.” I settled into the seat, listening to Mila talk about whatever popped into her head. Being the good friend she was, she kept talking, not letting any silence fill the air. Thankfully, she was careful to avoid discussing my failed wedding, Italy, or Dante Luciano.

Finally, after a longer than normal drive, thanks to the notorious LA traffic, she pulled into her driveway in a suburb north of Hollywood.

When I walked into the foyer of her home, I furrowed my brow, the place alarmingly quiet. “Where are the kids?” I expected to be bombarded by a flurry of activity and small voices.

“They’re spending the night at their grandma’s,” she answered, helping me with my bags. “And Steven’s working. I figured you could use a little peace and quiet. Plus, we haven’t had a girls’ night in ages. Probably since your lame excuse for a bachelorette party.”

I shot her an annoyed look as I lugged my suitcase up the stairs, heading straight for one of the guest bedrooms.

“What?” she exclaimed. “You only get married once…unless you’re Elizabeth Taylor. You’re supposed to go big for your symbolic last night of freedom. You’re supposed to wake up the next morning, preferably in Vegas, and wonder what the hell happened, not be in bed before ten PM.”

“It couldn’t be helped,” I responded. “Brock and I had a fundraiser to attend the following morning. He would have flipped a gasket if I’d shown up hungover.”

“Which is exactly why you should have done it. No woman deserves to be with a man who treats her the way that asshole treated you. I’m just glad you finally opened your eyes and realized that.”

I stepped into the small guest bedroom, looking around what was to become my new home for the time being. The only furniture was a bed, a nightstand, and a tiny dresser. I doubted anything else would fit. Approaching the bed, I lowered my laptop bag to the floor with a thump, the weight off my shoulder a welcome reprieve.

“That’s all in the past. None of it matters anymore.” I faced her as she leaned against the doorjamb.

“I think it still does,” she observed thoughtfully. “If it didn’t, I don’t think you would have gotten on that plane. I think you would have stayed in Rome.”

“Mila, that’s crazy.” I looked everywhere but into her eyes, not wanting her to see the truth I sought to hide from everyone, including myself. “No one moves their entire world for someone after just—”

She held up her hand, interrupting me. “Not now. Like you said, we have plenty of time to talk later. For now, I’m sure you’d love a shower and a nap.”

“My hair definitely feels a bit…greasy.” I ran my hand through my dark locks, cringing at the oil that had built up over the past day of travel.

“Do what you need to do. I have piles of laundry to catch up on.” She sighed. “The joys of motherhood.” She grabbed the knob, about to close the door, but stopped herself. “By the way, I’m glad you fixed that horrendous blonde. You weren’t doing yourself any favors with that color.”

“Thanks, Mila.” I rolled my eyes playfully, then smiled. “It feels good to finally be me again. Whoever that is.”

“I think you know exactly who that is, but you’re too stubborn to admit it.” She paused, allowing her words to sink in, then closed the door, leaving me alone with just my thoughts to keep me company.

Exhaustion setting in, I collapsed onto the bed, relishing in my solitude. Almost instantly, the sound of my phone alerting me to a new text ripped through the silence. A glimmer of hope rushed through me at the idea that maybe Dante had tracked me down and sent a message to tell me he was currently standing outside Mila’s front door. Instead, all I saw was a short, curt text from my mother.

I understand you’re back in California after your little “trip”. We’re hosting a dinner party Friday night, as usual, in case you’ve forgotten. I expect to see you there. 8 PM.

Groaning, I tossed the phone onto the bed. I had no desire to see my parents anytime soon, or ever, especially with the knowledge my father may have had a role in what happened to Dante’s daughter. But a nagging voice in my head reminded me that fate must have wanted me to come home so I could tie up all my loose ends. This was all part of finally stepping out of my parents’ shadows. If I didn’t face them, if I didn’t tell them everything I’d kept at bay for years, I would never be able to close this chapter in my life. So, instead of ignoring my mother, I picked up my cell and shot off a quick text, wishing she could hear the sarcasm in my tone.

Looking forward to it.

With a sigh, I placed my phone back onto the mattress, then stood. Opening my suitcase, I took a sharp breath, completely unprepared to be faced with a physical reminder of my time in Italy. I ran my hand along the silk robe lying on top of all the clothes Dante had bought me. I had almost left everything that would make me think of him and Italy there. In the end, I was able to fit it all in my luggage, with the exception of the gown I wore to the gala, which still hung in Dante’s closet in Rome. I wondered what he thought every time he saw it hanging there, if it made his heart ache just as much as mine did at this moment.

Grabbing my toiletry bag, I headed into the Jack and Jill bathroom attached to the bedroom, maneuvering around step stools and toys, and ran the water in the tub, allowing steam to fill the tiny room. I rid myself of my clothes, staring into the mirror. My reflection was devoid of the energy and vitality it had the past week. My lips were pale, the bags under my eyes from the lack of sleep making me appear worn out and beaten down. My skin seemed lifeless. My hazel eyes were dull, dispirited, somber. I no longer looked like the Eleanor I thought I was, the Eleanor Dante brought out. I no longer felt like her, either. I wondered if I ever would again.

Once the temperature of the shower reached the level I preferred, I stepped into the tub, rearranging the curtain so water didn’t get all over the floor. I blew out a long breath, allowing the heavy stream to wash off the past twenty-four hours. A thickness formed in my throat at the notion of erasing Dante’s touch from my skin.

As I ran a loofah over my body, I closed my eyes and imagined he was with me. His strong, calloused hands exploring every inch of me. His voice murmuring the most salacious and wanton things in that toe-curling Italian accent of his. The fantasy in my head was so real, right down to the tingle running down my spine, reminding me of the last time I had the pleasure of experiencing that high only one man had ever given me.

“Hurry,” I begged, tugging at his pants, then practically ripping the buttons off his shirt as I hastily undressed him in the family restroom of the airport. His lips crashed against mine, our teeth clashing against each other, our kiss hungry, desperate, pained. “I need you. Now. One more time.”

He lifted me up, slamming my back against the wall as he pushed my panties aside and thrust into me. I released a cry of ecstasy, heartache, and relief, holding onto him as tightly as I could. I feared I’d open my eyes and he’d be gone. I needed to know he was still here, I was still his, that we still had time.

Our breathing became heavy as we nipped and grabbed at each other, taking everything we could with no hint of regret for our greediness. I ran my hands through his hair, my fingers digging into his scalp. I moved against him, urgency and sorrow all wrapped up in one last attempt to hold onto what we had experienced this past week, to have one last moment in the clouds.

My body betraying me sooner than I wanted it to, I threw my head back as fire built inside me, growing hotter until I could no longer control the flames begging to be set ablaze.

“Don’t fight it, Eleanor,” Dante said, driving into me harder, deeper, fuller.

I shook my head, blinking back my tears. I wanted this moment to last, needed it to last, couldn’t come to terms with this ending and having to walk away.

“It’s okay. Just let go.”

“I don’t think I can.”

He cupped my cheeks in his hands, peering at me with all the love I never thought I deserved. “Yes, you can. This is the path you’ve chosen, the path fate has prescribed. It’s going to be okay. You’ll always have my heart, Eleanor. Always.”

“And you’ll always have mine,” I murmured as I gave in to my desire. My toes curled, my breath catching, my mind blank. Clawing at his back, I tried to erase even the tiniest whisper of distance between us, moaning out his name, my earth shattering around me.

Dante buried his head in my neck, pushing into me with more force, more greed, more agony, then stilled, grunting through his own release. Our bodies remained connected for seconds or hours. At that precise moment, time had no true measurement. We simply held on to each other, neither one of us wanting to break the connection, to return to reality.

When he finally pulled his head away, he looked at me with an expression I couldn’t quite label, one that rocked me to my core. He touched his mouth to mine, kissing me in a way he never had before. I felt his body quivering against mine, so I deepened the kiss, holding him tighter. Tears cascaded from my eyes as I tried to take away his heartache, and he mine.

“Ti amo, Eleanor,” he murmured against my lips, his voice wavering.

“Ti amo, Dante,” I repeated. “Sempre e per sempre.”

“Sempre e per sempre. No matter what.”

I brushed my thumb against my bottom lip, feeling the ghost of Dante’s lingering kiss. “Sempre e per sempre,” I said through the lump in my throat. “No matter what.”

As I slowly returned to the present, I noticed my skin had begun to prune and wondered how long I’d been lost in my fantasy world. I finished showering, then stepped out of the tub and toweled off. After running a brush through my hair, I pulled on one of Dante’s t-shirts I’d stolen and crawled under the soft duvet of the double bed in Mila’s guest bedroom, wishing that coin had landed on tails instead of heads.