Page 162 of Anti-Heroes in Love Duet

I stared at the photos for a long time, unspooling tangled theories until I was caught up in a mess of threads.

As if summoned by my thoughts, the phone in my purse started to vibrate.

I’d had it on airplane mode for the entire trip, and when I flipped on the data, there were messages from Mama, Sebastian, Cosima, Yara, Beau, and even Daniel.

Daniel:I had a concerning message from Dante Salvatore. Just checking in to see if you’re okay, Elena.

I stared at the text and tried to decide if there were any lingering feelings for him in my crowded heart.

There was still the bitterness of betrayal, which I doubted would ever fully go away, and the echo of my own shame that I hadn’t given him a proper chance to explain his sexuality to me. It was my fault as much as his that our relationship hadn’t worked out, but I still wished he hadn’t fallen in love with my little sister.

There was just so much history between Giselle and me. At this point, I wished them all the best, I really did, because they clearly made each other happy, and I wanted that for them both.

But even as in love with Dante as I was, falling more and more into it every day, I didn’t know if I’d ever be close with either of them again.

I didn’t know if I had the strength to face the demons both of them represented as individuals and as a unit.

My phone rang again in my hand, and Mama’s name popped up on the screen.

I hesitated.

Mama was my confidant as much as Beau was. She had stood by me through the entire Daniel and Giselle affair. But I realized, especially as I stared at the Polaroid of her on Tore’s wall, that I hadn’t been the same confidant to her.

It made me want to keep my own secrets from her.

It was spiteful and unhealthy, but that was my instinct.

Only Sebastian’s voice in my head talking about the distance all our secrets had caused between our family members made me pick up her call.

“Mama,” I murmured as I moved out of the hall into the kitchen. It was a gorgeous, rustic space, but I didn’t linger. The massive glass doors to the patio were open, so I moved through them to the warm, citrus-scent air of the back garden.

The fragrance reminded me of Dante and made me smile.

“Lottatrica mia,” Mama said warmly. “I read in the paper Dante has run away. This is bad, no?”

I bit my lip as I went to the round, worn wood table under the trellis and took a seat in a cushioned chair. “Well, if he was to return to the country, he would go to jail for bail jumping. They could let him off with a fine and/or community service, but the prosecution wants him too badly to agree to that.”

“So he has left forever?” She sounded deeply morose about the idea, which surprised me. To my knowledge, Dante and Mama hadn’t interacted more than a handful of times over the years.

“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully.

“What does this mean for you?”

I chewed my lower lip, noticing a deliberate scar in the wood table. My breath caught as I leaned closer to read the symbols there “EDD.” Edward Dante Davenport. I could imagine Dante as a young boy sitting in this exact chair carving his initials into the table to make a permanent mark on a beautiful memory.

My fingers itched to join my name with his.

“As his lawyer?” I asked even though I knew Mama was too shrewd to be waylaid.

“No, Lena. This man, he isrightfor you. Do not tell me you are not with him.”

“With him romantically or with him as in with him on the run?” I stalled.

She blew air through her lips and clucked her tongue. “Lena mia, I may be an old woman now, but do not insult me, hmm?”

I sighed. “Okay, then yes to both, I guess. We’re in Naples together, at Salvatore’s house.”

There was a pregnant pause, static with things unsaid on both ends of the phone.