Page 72

“I like that,” he murmured approvingly. “Are we going to be honest with each other, Elysa?”
It felt almost like when we lived together—and that was another realization. We had shared dinner often, and it had always been easy, laid-back, never forced. It was never awkward or boring, and not just because I put in the effort—he did, too. I had never given him credit for that. But that was because he always had tosay something to make me feel like I wasn’t up to the job of being his wife.
“Dante, you complained about my food when I cooked.” I twirled my glass of wine, taking the first step toward transparency with Dante.
He frowned. “I did? I always told everyone you’re an amazing cook. I ate everything you made and”—he paused, looked at me carefully—“tell me when I complained.”
I swallowed. This was hard. I felt foolish and petty telling him how he’d hurt me in small and big ways, but if I didn’t tell him, he’d never know, and he’d continue to keep doing the stupid shit that made me unhappy.
“I made brisket, and you…kept saying it was too rich and how?—”
“I love your brisket.”
I sighed. “But, Dante, you complained about it.”
“I did?” He shook his head. “That was thoughtless of me. I’m sorry,mi leoncina.”
So, he hadn’t even known he was doing it? How clueless was this man?
Well, as clueless as you allowed him to be, Elysa.
“You behaved like I didn’t know how to dress and hired that…anyway, it made me feel like I was beneath you because I didn’t fit into your highfalutin, big-money Roman society.”
I cut a strip of the bistecca, giving him time to think and reply and not interrupt him when he saidsomething I didn’t like, no matter how tempting. We were talking, and that meant we were also listening.
“I’m sorry, Elysa,” he said softly.
I didn’t doubt his sincerity. It was clear to see.
“That was insensitive of me. I wish…I wish I’d listened to you about Patrizia, who, by the way, is going to find it very hard to find work in Rome.”
“She is?”
“Yes.” He sounded very pleased with himself. “She didn’t just mistreat you — she’s the one who told Lucia about the divorce papers. Lucia found them while snooping in our bedroom, and I—like an idiot—confirmed it when she asked.”
“What?” I couldn’t believe the balls on the woman.
“Those papers, which I haven’t bothered to read, have been sitting in my dresser since the day you gave them to me.”
“So…no lawyers have looked at them?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want a divorce. I want my wife back in our home and in our bed so we can live our lives together.” He picked up his wine and took a sip. “By the way, fantastic wine.”
“I feel like you’ve just changed your mind about being married to me, likethat.” I snapped my fingers. “It’s difficult for me to believe.”
“I understand.” He then sighed, the sound unguarded, like the weight of everything he wascarrying was getting too much for him. “I meant what I said last night. I love you. I know I’ve never said it before to a woman, but I also know my actions haven’t shown it to you. And I am very sorry for all the ways I’ve hurt you, because loving you means…that when you hurt I do as well.”
I closed my eyes, my throat tightening at the unexpected vulnerability in his voice. This wasn’t the Dante I was used to—the controlled, polished man who always had an answer for everything. This was someone different. Someone raw. Someone real.
“Dante...” I started, but he cut me off.
“Please, just let me finish.”
He saidplease,but he wasn’t pleading. The man was too arrogant to do that. I almost smiled at the thought. The one thing I could always count on Dante to be was authentic, and that’s when it struck me: he had no reason to lie to me. If he wanted me back, it was because he did, and the choice was mine if I could overcome my fears and insecurities to be with him.